Page 129 of The Lord Meets His Lady

“I am capable of making my own decisions, you know,” Genevieve said.

Marcus touched the small of her back. “And your decision was to trustme.”

Cool winter sun lit strands of hair falling across her cheek. Her body relaxed under her cloak, the easing slight as an exhale on his hand. Lips parting and a gentle flush on her cheeks were private messages for him, the trust as sweet a gift as her body yielding to him. The earthy, sensual, rough-around-the-edges Genevieve sated his soul better than all the mannered misses of London.

A calmer Genevieve turned to Samuel. “In all the uproar, we forgot to ask about Adam. Is he well?”

“Fever broke this morning, but not before giving me a scare.” Samuel removed his hat and scraped a hand through his hair before jamming the hat back on. His normally tidy queue was in disarray, and dark circles marred the skin under his eyes.

“You should go home and rest,” Marcus said.

“Not yet. I’ve been thinking. We may have another way to get the stallion back and recoup our funds.”

“How?”

“A horse race. When Atal brings his guests back from hunting grouse. They hunger for new entertainment. They jumped at the idea when I suggested it on the road.”

A gust skirled through the barn’s open door, stirring Marcus’s redingote. “You want me to race Khan.”

The wind played with the frock layers on Samuel’s shoulders. The tip of his nose was red from his ride. “Against Atal’s new black. The one he bought at Tattersall’s.”

“The horse has excellent bloodlines. She’s younger than Khan.”

“But Khan’s a gelding with better bloodlines. The old boy has a good year or two left.”

Marcus ground his molars. “I don’t like it.”

“Khan runs like the wind for you.”

“Even if I raced him, we still have the problem of no collateral.”

Samuel kicked the dirt. “We have options. You could ask for a loan from any one of Atal’s guests.”

“You want me to go hat in hand and beg a loan from the same men who spoke disparagingly of our venture?”

“Pride is an expensive virtue we can’t afford,” Samuel ground out. “We can still come out ahead. There are options.”

Tension crawled between Marcus’s shoulder blades. Khan stomped the dirt, the vain steed having heard his name. Genevieve petted his neck, cooing sweet words. With the barn door left open, winter air blew in. Cold numbed Marcus as foreboding settled in.

“How, Samuel?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Explainhow we’ll come out ahead when we have no collateral to offer.”

Samuel looked past him. “Idon’t, but you do.”