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“I’m going to kill the bastard. I’ll hang, but I don’t care.”
“Drive, Harry. He isn’t worth your sacrifice, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She had the exact same compulsion of killing the lying bastard. She steeled herself not to look as they drove off. Harry took the turn onto the side street next to the stable. They drove to the end of the next alley and stopped next to the stable walls.
Dita opened the door. “I will walk from here.”
“Why don’t I drive past once to evaluate the activity in the rear?”
“It will take too much time, and someone might see me exiting the carriage. I need to get in there while they are busy.” She wanted to get out of the carriage and run as fast as she could away from this place. To outrun the anguish burning in her heart. She was glad to have something to focus on… the misery would come later.
“I should come with you.”
“We’ve already been through this. You will stand out too much. You’re a giant and everyone will notice you.”
“But Lord Beldon is as big as I am.”
Dita didn’t want to think of Dash or hear his name. “Yes, but if he is stopped, he is an earl and no one can question his activities.” Dash could do anything he wanted, anytime, with anyone he wanted, at any moment. And she had been one of the many.
“Wait for me here and be ready for a possible fast departure.”
“When Lord Clifton hears of this, he is going to dismiss me.”
The mention of Roddy snapped her out of her self-absorption. Roddy was missing. Her heartache wasn’t important. Finding her brother was.
“He won’t do any such thing. And you know it. You’re delaying me on purpose.”
Harry’s familiar deep chuckle helped to soothe her raw feelings.
Dita strode away. She would search for Fury, and if the horse was here, she would go to Lord Rathbourne and tell him everything. She didn’t need Dash. Aunt Euphemia would ensure she got an audience with Lord Rathbourne.
Dita walked through the back door with a male swagger she’d acquired from spending time with the stable lads. The main corridor was lined with rows of stalls for the horses. She could see down the path to the front entrance where the carriages were lined up in the alley. This was her chance. No one was at this end. All she had to do was walk down the main corridor and examine the horses in their stalls. She moved quickly, looking back and forth between the sides, hoping for a glimpse of Fury. Many stalls were empty. No sign of the magnificent stallion yet. Would they keep the horse in a hidden space? He was too valuable not to keep. It was possible they had already moved him out of London.
She looked for possible places they could conceal the feisty horse. There were rooms on one side of the building closest to the club. The doors were half open, and she could see the tack and feed rooms. Housing and feeding the large number of horses would require space for the equipage and supplies.
She was halfway down the row when a loud voice from behind her bellowed. “Boy, what are you doing?”
Dita’s heart jumped, and she could feel the speeding pulsations in her neck. Panic blasted through her. All her plans stalled somewhere between her brain and her mouth. Was it better to pretend she worked here than announce she was looking for Fury?
She turned slowly, working hard not to touch her cap and to remember to lower the pitch of her voice. “I’m looking for my master’s horse. He sent me to get it.”
The man strode toward her, his forearms the size of small oak trees bunched under his rolled sleeves. He was a big, muscular man with a misshapen nose and a large scar above his bushy eyebrow. He had the size and strength to easily control any horse, including Fury.
Dita fought the urge to turn and run. But she did back up, edging closer to the front still filled with activity.
“And who be your master?”
She debated what was the best answer. If she had been with Dash, she would have definitely said her brother. Best not to think of the rake at this moment. But without Dash’s protection…
Dita inched back and fought the urge to look at the distance to the door. “Lord Clifton is my master. And he wants his horse. Now. He’s not a patient man. I don’t see Fury. Where is the stallion?”
Something dark and fierce passed across the craggy face. “He sent you, did he? Your master in the club?”
“What does that matter? I need the horse.” Did the man hear the way her voice got higher?
He was close enough that the stench of horse manure and sweat filled her nostrils. But it was the antagonism radiating off him that sent big red alerts to her brain. Her muscles tightened, her heart sped, and the taste of fear burned on her tongue.
He inspected her slowly, starting at her dusty worn boots to the cap resting on her forehead.
“You ain’t no stable hand. Look at those lily-white hands.” He had a long reach, and he lunged forward to grab her.
