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“Do your parents still live in Ireland?”
“My mother has passed away, but my father is still there.” Her gaze turned distant, her thoughts chasing elsewhere. “He sent Asad to me as a wedding present.”
“Asad,” Devon repeated, puzzled.
Refocusing on him, Kathleen looked perturbed, color sweeping from her neck to her hairline.
Then Devon understood. “The horse that threw Theo,” he said quietly.
“It wasn’t Asad’s fault. He was so badly trained that my father bought him back from the man who had originally purchased him.”
“Why give a problem horse to you?”
“Lord Berwick often allowed me to help him train the young colts.”
Devon ran a deliberate glance over her fine-boned frame. “You’re no bigger than a sparrow.”
“One doesn’t use brute force to train an Arabian. They’re a sensitive breed – they require understanding and skill.”
Two things that Theo had lacked. How bloody stupid he had been to risk his neck and a valuable animal along with it.
“Did Theo do it on a lark?” Devon couldn’t resist asking. “Was he trying to show off?”
A glint of searing emotion appeared in those luminous eyes before it was quickly extinguished. “He was in a temper. He wouldn’t be dissuaded.”
That was a Ravenel for you.
If anyone had ever dared to contradict Theo, or refuse him anything, it had ignited an explosion. Perhaps Kathleen had thought she could manage him, or that time would mellow him. She couldn’t have known that a Ravenel’s temper usually outweighed any sense of self-preservation. Devon would have liked to consider himself above that sort of thing, but he had succumbed to it more than once in the past, throwing himself into the volcanic pit of consuming fury. It always felt glorious until one had to face the consequences.
Kathleen folded her arms tightly, each small, black-gloved hand forming a clamp around the opposite elbow. “Some people said I should have had Asad put down after the accident. But it would be cruel, and wrong, to punish him for something that wasn’t his fault.”
“Have you considered selling him?”
“I wouldn’t want to. But even if I did, I would have to retrain him first.”
Devon doubted the wisdom of allowing Kathleen anywhere near a horse that had just killed her husband, albeit inadvertently. And in all likelihood, she wouldn’t be able to stay at Eversby Priory long enough to make any progress with the Arabian.
However, now wasn’t the time to point that out.
“I’d like to see the grounds,” he said. “Will you walk with me?”
Looking perturbed, Kathleen retreated a half step. “I’ll arrange for the head gardener to show them to you.”
“I would prefer you.” Devon paused before asking deliberately, “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
Her brows rushed downward. “Certainly not.”
“Then walk with me.”
Ignoring his proffered arm, she slid him a wary glance. “Shall we invite your brother?”
Devon shook his head. “He’s napping.”
“At this hour of the day? Is he ill?”
“No, he keeps the schedule of a cat. Long hours of slumber interrupted by brief periods of self-grooming.”
He saw the corners of her lips deepen with reluctant amusement. “Come, then,” she murmured, brushing by him to walk briskly along the hallway, and he followed without hesitation.
Chapter 2
After only a few minutes in Devon Ravenel’s company, Kathleen had no doubt that every damning rumor she had heard about him was true. He was a selfish ass. A repellent, boorish rake.
He was handsome… she would give him that. Although not in the way of Theo, who had been blessed with the refined features and golden hair of a young Apollo. Devon Ravenel’s dark good looks were bold and raffish, weathered with a cynicism that made him look every bit his twenty-eight years. She felt a little shock every time she looked up into his eyes, the blue of a rough winter ocean, the vivid irises rimmed with blue-black. His face was smooth shaven, but the lower half was shadowed with a beard grain that even the sharpest razor would not completely remove.
He seemed exactly like the kind of man that Lady Berwick, who had raised Kathleen, had warned her about. “You will encounter men who will have designs on you, my dear. Men without scruple, who will employ charm, lies, and seductive skills to ruin innocent young women for their own impure gratification. When you find yourself in the company of such a scoundrel, flee without hesitation.”
“But how will I know if a man is a scoundrel?” Kathleen had asked.
“By the unwholesome glint in his eye and the ease of his charm. His presence may excite rather lurid sensations. Such a man has a certain something in his physical presence… a quality of ‘animal spirits,’ as my mama used to call it. Do you understand, Kathleen?”
“I think so,” she had said, although she hadn’t at the time.
Now Kathleen knew exactly what Lady Berwick had meant. The man strolling beside her possessed animal spirits in abundance.
“From what I’ve seen so far,” Devon remarked, “it would be far more sensible to set fire to this rotting heap of timber rather than to try and repair it.”
Kathleen’s eyes widened. “Eversby Priory is historic. It’s four hundred years old.”
“So is the plumbing, I’ll wager.”
“The plumbing is adequate,” she said defensively.
One of his brows arched. “Sufficiently adequate for me to take a shower bath?”
She hesitated before admitting, “You won’t have a shower bath.”
“A regular bath, then? Lovely. What kind of modern vessel shall I find myself soaking in tonight? A rusted pail?”
To Kathleen’s chagrin, she felt her mouth quiver with the beginnings of a smile. She managed to batten it down before replying with great dignity. “A portable tin bath.”
“There are no cast-iron baths in any of the bathrooms?”
“I’m afraid there are no bathrooms. The bath will be brought to your dressing room and removed after you are finished.”
“Is there any piped water? Anywhere?”
“The kitchen and the stables.”
“But there are water closets in the house, of course.”