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“Damn!” he yelped, jumping back. The boy facing him was so filthy that he’d all but blended into the background.
The urchin’s guarded brown eyes narrowed as his grubby hands tightened on the pitchfork they held. “An’ just ’oo might you be, makin’ off with ’er ladyship’s ’orse?”
“I am Lord”—he thought better of it—“Withington, and I need to borrow this animal.”
“You’re not borrowin’ nothin’,” drawled his young adversary as he shifted his thin little body to block the doorway in a brave and somewhat ridiculous attempt at valor. “’Ow am I to know you’re ’oo you say you are? Could be a thief dressed in fancy plunder.”
“I am not a thief!” Julius replied, offended. “I am Lord Withington, a guest of your master, Lord Richmond. Now, I don’t have time for this, so just stand aside and I’ll be on my way.”
The youngster did not budge, save to hoist his pitchfork a little higher.
Julius sighed. “I was here earlier. I saw Lady Victoria ride out a moment ago before I was able to let her know I was still here. It is imperative that I speak with her. I only need the horse for a little while.”
Nothing.
Julius hesitated. There was one sure way to gain the cooperation of any servant. He dug around in his coat pocket and pulled out a shiny gold coin. The polished metal glinted cheerfully as he held it up.
Amazement filled him as the boy laughed. “I ain’t for sale, m’lord,” said the lad, eyeing the money with open scorn. “Me lady ’as me loyalty, an you don’t got enough to buy it—I wouldn’t betray ’er, not if you was the king ’imself. Wot’s your ’urry to speak with ’er ladyship? Why not wait at the ’ouse, proper like?”
Julius glared at his inquisitor. “Because I must speak with her privately, not that it is any of your business.”
The smudged face broke into a sly grin. “Maybe not, but that there ’orse is me business. An’ you’re not Lord Withington. I saw ’im walkin’ with ’er ladyship this mornin’, ’an you look nothin’ like ’im.”
Blast! He had no choice but to tell the truth now, lest the lad call to the house for help. “I am Lord Cavendish, and I apologize for the deception, but it is very important that I find your mistress.”
The pitchfork wavered. “Cavendish? Mrs. Marjorie in the kitchen said summat about a Cavendish courtin’ Lady Amelia.”
Thank the Lord! “Yes, and I am he. I must speak with Lady Victoria on a matter of urgency. If you can help me in any way, I’d be very grateful.”
The lad shifted from foot to foot.
“If I must find her on my own in order to appease your conscience, I shall,” said Julius. “I have no wish to cause you trouble. I ask only that you allow me to pass and that you remain silent. Lady Victoria and Primero were traveling south when I saw them leave.”
At the mention of the horse’s name, the boy relaxed. “’Eaded for the downs, they are,” he said, tossing his pronged implement into the hay. “Take the woodland path beyond the field, an’ be sure to stay to the left where it forks. But like as not, you’ll never catch ’er.”
“Good lad.”
“Me name’s Charlie.”
Reaching down, Julius pressed the coin into the boy’s palm. “Thank you, Charlie. This is not payment, you understand,” he said quickly, before the child could refuse it. “Merely a token of my gratitude. I’ll return the horse before nightfall.”
Once mounted, he followed the well-worn track toward the wood. He slowed on passing beneath its eaves, lest his horse misstep in the gloom. Eventually, the path forked as he’d been told. He stayed to the left, hoping he hadn’t been fed a falsehood. When he at last ascended out of the valley, he was greeted by a sweeping vista of low, grass-covered hills.
Victoria was nowhere in sight.
He rode on for a while, hoping. At last, a ripple of familiar laughter was carried back to him on the wind. Cresting the next rise, he looked down and caught his breath.
Primero streaked across the valley at what seemed an impossible speed for so large an animal, his powerful haunches bunching and lengthening as he ate up the terrain. Victoria rode astride on his great back, her hair whipping behind her like a long, black banner. She’d let him have his head, and he ran free of all restraint.
Julius watched them approach one of the low stone walls that riddled the hills, and his heart stopped beating. Just as he was about to shout a warning, Primero sailed gracefully over the obstacle, clearing it by at least a foot and thundering down on the other side. A triumphant whoop of joy erupted from his rider as he slowed to a trot.
The wind gusted, and Primero s
norted, lifting his proud head and turning toward the hilltop where Julius stood in awe. Even as Victoria spied him, her mount pawed the earth and neighed a challenge. She leaned down, taking a moment to calm him before urging him forward.
As they climbed the slope toward him, Julius marked how she guided her mount purely by the pressure of her knees, flowing with the giant beast’s movements as if they were one creature. She held no reins, and her saddle was hardly more than a piece of leather.
Like the Romani, she required neither bit nor bridle to control him. She was magnificent.
