Page 60 of The Lord Meets His Lady

“Dithering will cost us. I seized an opportunity.”

At the pasture fence, Miss Turner opened the gate, her cloak a billowing red sail. She waved her arm in a wide greeting.

Marcus eyed the lines of horses from under the brim of his hat. “I thought we were going to wait.”

Samuel waved his hat at Miss Turner and faced Marcus, his smile frosty. “AndIthought you understood that we’ve all made our adjustments in this arrangement.”

Forlorn creatures stood still in the yard, noses snorting at the mud. One brave mare cocked her head at him, her brown eyes vacant as a beggar’s. Ribs showed above a belly swollen with an unborn foal. Her dark-eyed stare was a silent plea, hitting his heart.

“Take them to the pasture,” Marcus ordered. “I’ll examine them one at a time in the barn.”

Hooves sloshed through puddles. A small tic twitched beneath Marcus’s right eye as he followed the sorry lot. The twinge in his heart at their neglect was one thing. The resources to properly tend these horses was another. The tack room held a few ointments for the ailments passing before him, but ailing or not, the cost alone to purchase this number would crush them.

“Good day to you, milord.” Alexander touched the brim of his hat, his face grim.

He was old enough to grasp the tension, but Adam was blithe, his cart trundling along the driveway, great globs of mud collecting on the wheels.

“Good morning, milord,” he shouted over the noise. “Looks like the business got a boost today.”

“So it did.” He wouldn’t dampen the light in Adam’s eyes. Had Samuel already promised a tutor to the boy? He rubbed the tic under his eye, his boots sinking deeper in mud. “Unless you got these nags for free, care to explain how we’ll pay for them?”

“With your winnings next week.”

“Baron Atal’s house party.”

“It’s all been arranged,” Samuel said. “Mr. Hereford was all too glad for me to take these horses off his hands. He was having a hard time caring for them.”

The older man hobbled around the pasture, stopping to stroke a horse. Genevieve was with him, her head bending as he pointed to the front knee of a sorrel mare.

“This lot lived in piss-poor conditions. Their paddock was a bog.” Samuel’s shoulders set stubbornly under his frock coat.

“And when arewegoing to pay Mr. Hereford?”

Samuel watched the old man petting a horse. “Says we can pay him when we come into our funds next week.”

Marcus’s vision narrowed on Samuel. “Did you mention how you expect us to come into these funds?”

“I didn’t. But he wouldn’t care.”

“He will if we can’t pay him.”

The current herd of horses in their growing enterprise stirred to life in the smaller paddock. Their noses tipped high at the newcomers. The herds would need careful blending.

Marcus folded his arms across his chest, the ache in his head increasing. “You’re assuming I’ll win…that isifI gamble in the first place.”

“You will.”

“Even if I did…” He sighed. “I don’t have a feather to fly with when it comes to the baron’s guests.”

“We’ll pool our funds. I’ve some pound notes to spare. You must have a few tucked away. We’ll manage.” Samuel nodded at the pasture where the new herd nipped dormant grass. “They’re better off here, and you know it.”

The sickly horses stayed in a tight group. As he suspected, the mare who had looked at him in the yard was the dominant one in the herd. She led a cluster of horses followed closely by a limping bay to the water trough near the gate. He’d have to win the trust of those two first, a time-intensive task.

Marcus shook his head. “Are you not listening to me?”

“You’re not listening tome.” Samuel crossed his hands on the pommel. “Win the money at Baron Atal’s to pay for this herd, and we’ll consider this thing between us done.”

“What? Now you’re cutting me out?”