The Rake of Hearts (A Lady to Suit Book 2) by Emily Windsor

The Rake of Hearts (A Lady to Suit Book 2) by Emily Windsor

Author:Emily Windsor [Windsor, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Senara Press
Published: 2021-08-22T23:00:00+00:00


“Apologies, Stanley, my boy, that was quite a gallop.” Ernest slowed them to a trot in order to cross the moat bridge, his faithful steed tossing his mane and snickering in reply.

This morning, Ernest had called upon the magistrate with an extensive list of the local mares, stallions and colts that had gone missing over the last three months, together with the circumstances of their disappearance – but to little avail.

A shaking hand had slopped brandy as the bacon-brained fool had shrugged and blamed, once again, idle grooms, strangers, tinkers or wandering soldiers.

Yet scanning the list, Ernest had been at pains to point out that every single one was of a fine breed, not an animal to be taken on the sudden whim of a passing stranger or a soldier looking for a ride to town.

In addition, the owners were never stolen from twice – a careful thief, or perhaps a gang, organised enough not to rouse suspicion, he’d concluded.

With disinterested, crimson-shot eyes, the magistrate had waved the list away, his body odour and vanilla cologne enough to make one retch.

“Lord Ernest,” the bacon-brain had uttered, “if I went after every horse that flew the paddock, I’d never be home for dinner. Most are found ambling the next field. And if one has been misappropriated, then it is by strangers and I cannot waste my time gallivanting to every country fair on the off-chance that your horse is there.” He scratched his belly. “My advice is to keep them inside if they are that valuable.”

Ernest had gritted his teeth and longed to stuff the magistrate in an airless box stable for a month over summer.

So on his return, full of exasperation and anger, he’d galloped poor Stanley to a lather.

The stable courtyard was a hive of activity with grooms carrying out their lunchtime duties: cleaning the cobbles with astringent vinegar and shifting haybales.

“Is all well, Grampy Tom?” Ernest puffed, leaping from Stanley and throwing the reins to Isaac, a new young stable lad whose mother worked in the castle kitchens. “You look a mite worried.”

“Well, I don’t know if all be well or not,” grumbled Grampy Tom. “This here leg is paining I, and the swans are on the bank. Something ain’t right.”

“Pecking for food?”

“Bah.”

“Where’s Redmond?”

“Somewhere about. That Lord Jack were giving him trouble. Trying to mount anything on four legs, including the water trough. So he took the lusty guts out for a run.”

“And is Mrs Locke back yet?”

“No.” Grampy eyed the circling rooks. “She ain’t.”

“Well, she can get rather absorbed in her sket–”

A mad clatter of hooves on the bridge took Ernest’s attention and he hastened to the arched gatehouse. It sounded like some errant knight about to request the portcullis be lowered against invaders – though it had rusted up some hundred-odd years back.

Or was it those bloody sheep again?

Instead, the blood-bay Lady Myrtle cantered towards him, and Ernest sighted Daniel upon her back with what looked to be a sack of some sort balanced in front.

“Daniel? What the hell?” And he flattened himself to the stone wall as the groom nearly drove him down.



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