The Prophet by Martine Bailey

Author:Martine Bailey [Martine Bailey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2021-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-NINE

10 June 1753

Whit Sunday

Through the fog of a thumping thick head, Nat recalled the previous night’s humiliation. Pox them all; if only he could have woken a thousand miles away from Langley Hall. Beside him Tabitha slept on, looking smooth and ripe in her nightshift. He longed to retreat into their private world of lovemaking beneath the bed sheets. He touched the warm softness of her cheek. Damn Caldwell, such unnatural rules were made to be broken. Gently, he nuzzled his lips against the hollow at her throat and tentatively licked the warm salt of her.

A loud rap sounded at the door. A voice cried out, ‘All gentlemen to saddle up and meet on the forecourt.’

Stoically, he dressed and found a mount waiting for him in the Langley stables and thereafter followed the chief gentry of the county across miles of heathland. Beaufort Langley came cantering to his side, an ungainly lad and damned if only for his connections, but Nat had little choice in his company. The youth jawed on about horses and dogs, mocking Nat for having brought no better horse or a hound of his own. Dammit, he wished he had Jupiter beneath him and could kick up the dirt in the coxcomb’s face.

‘My uncle has some fine new pups in his kennels,’ the youth boasted. ‘Look them over if you wish to learn about good blood and fine points.’

As Nat made a barely civil show of considering the suggestion, it struck him that his father might well be cheered by a replacement for dear old Hector. He had only to endure the morning’s hare coursing and then take a look.

In the event, the day’s sport went badly for many a hare escaped. The sun was rising to noontide when the final course commenced and Nat gave a heartfelt huzzah under his breath when yet another zigzagging hare disappeared into a wooded covert. He headed off unobserved, planning a brief inspection of the pups before returning for Tabitha and making an early break for home.

At the gate to the kennels, Nat was silently inspected by a surly dog keeper before he was ushered inside. For all its fancy brickwork, it was not as well kept as that at Bold Hall; the straw was dirty and the water not much better. He took a quick look at the pups, but they were all foxhounds and of no use to his father. Making to leave, he shook his head in disgust at the sound of dogs frantically barking; one poor creature was even howling to the wind. Nat’s head was down, busy inventing an excuse for an early departure, when he noticed a dark shape raised up on its hind legs frantically clawing at the fence. Nat stopped bolt still and then ran a dozen paces. The dog was like a wild beast, scrabbling to leap the barrier. He knew those loyal brown eyes anywhere and reached for the dog’s muzzle as a long tongue ferociously lapped his hand.

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