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R as smiled as he watched his stablemaster take Lady Zoe to task for working in his stable without telling him who she was.

When Ras had first told Mr. Barnes that “Miss Daisy Duncan” was a well-bred lady, his stablemaster had all but called him an idiot.

But now, with the two of them face to face, he was able to sit back and watch the sparks fly.

To her credit, Lady Zoe held her ground.

She’d worked for free and done a good job of it.

She didn’t cower or apologize, and Mr. Barnes seemed completely flummoxed.

At least until she started challenging his neglect of his older mares.

Mr. Barnes had never neglected a horse in his entire life, but it was true that his attention centered more on the racing stock.

And so the two began a lively debate that would look to others like a full-fledged argument. But what he saw was two people who loved horses and who also enjoyed an energetic debate.

“Why don’t you show Mr. Barnes your father’s ideas for the stable?

” Ras asked from a healthy distance. “See what he makes of them.” Ras knew quite well that Lady Zoe was the author of what she’d presented.

Certainly, her father had given his opinions, but she was the one with the true vision.

And if she could get his stablemaster on board, then Ras would come along as well.

But first he had to see what Barnes thought.

And he also had to get out of earshot before the two deafened him with their discussion.

“I’ll go see if Miss Petrelli has gotten lost.”

Mr. Barnes acknowledged the statement with a tug at his cap. Lady Zoe on the other hand waved with a distracted kind of focus. Her eyes were trained on Whirl who was just being led out for her inspection. Not Whirl, he corrected himself. The horse’s name was… was… Oh hell. Now he’d forgotten.

He turned and went in search of Kynthea.

He found her wandering down toward them.

He took a moment to appreciate the sunlight as it turned her brown hair gold.

Her gown was a muted blue, probably a cast-off from her aunt who preferred that hue.

He would see her dressed in copper or gold.

Or undressed and in his arms such that he could see the golden tones in her skin and the flush of rose as her breath increased. He would spread her thighs and…

Oh hell. He shut down his erotic thoughts and tried to focus on the woman as she approached. But that was a losing game. She was beautiful. She was refined in dress and composure. And he wanted her with a madness that was becoming uncomfortable.

She smiled when she saw him, and his body heated to flame. He smiled back and quickly made his plan. There was a tack room nearby. Perhaps it was empty…

“Have you abandoned Zoe already?” she asked, her voice light enough to tease. “Or did she ride off without you?”

“She and Mr. Barnes are coming to terms. I judged it best to back away until a truce has been called.”

“Then you will be away from your stable for a very long time. Zoe never backs down when it comes to horses, and I gather Mr. Barnes is of the same ilk.”

“He is,” Ras confirmed as he made it to her side.

He wished the ground was uneven enough that he could take her arm.

It wasn’t, so he contented himself with adjusting her direction toward the hopefully empty tack room.

“It’s a pity she wasn’t born a man. If she were, she could have made a name for herself in racing circles.

Why hasn’t she improved her father’s stables? ”

“Oh, she has. Significantly. Enough that her best two mares are part of her dowry.” She arched a brow at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

About Lady Zoe’s dowry? He wasn’t interested.

“You’d do well to listen to her ideas,” Kynthea continued. “All the smart men in Cornwall do.” She looked over at the yard where Zoe and Mr. Barnes were kneeling down in front of Whirl. “You should talk to Baron Borlaise about her. He’s done very well with his horses thanks to her advice.”

“And what of you?”

“I never argue with Zoe about horses.”

He smiled. “Actually, I was asking what are your interests? What would you have done if born a man?”

She looked at him for a moment, then turned away, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I am a woman, Your Grace. Thoughts of “what if” only depress me.”

And now he had an excuse to touch her. He took a large enough step that he could slide around her to block her path.

And when she stopped walking, he caught her hand.

“I can understand how frustrating it is to be an impoverished relation, especially when your path in society has been so unfair of late. But there are a great many things you could do—even as a woman—if you had the resources to pursue them. What were your childhood dreams, Miss Petrelli? What might you have studied?”

“The law,” she said. Her words didn’t come quickly, but they were clear when finally voiced.

“I had a passing interest as a child, but it wasn’t until my parents passed that I saw how easily the law could be used for ill.

It’s not how it was intended, to be sure, but some people use it like a cudgel to beat people. ”

“Who hurt you?”

She smiled. “No one. My parents had debts that were legally owed, but there was little kindness in the administration of it. Nevertheless, an impoverished woman hears tales that the wealthy might not. Contracts written such that they help only one party while the other is an unwitting dupe. Laws do the same sometimes.” She took a deep breath.

“My brother thought to become a barrister when he was younger. We discussed it several times, but sailing claimed him and, truthfully, I was the one who had the interest more than he.”

“I should like to meet your brother.”

“I think he will like you, Your Grace.”

“I hope so. When does he return home?”

Her gaze grew sad. “Not for months. Last time we spoke, he said that he might have enough money upon his return. If his latest venture works out.”

“Money for what?”

“To set up an establishment. He talked of how there might be enough for me to live with him modestly. That we might…” Her voice trailed away. “It doesn’t matter now. There isn’t time.”

His attention sharpened. “There isn’t time for what, Miss Petrelli?”

He watched as she steeled herself. Then she lifted her gaze to his and her lips curved in a wry kind of smile.

“I should like to speak with you, Your Grace, about an arrangement between us. But this is hardly the moment.” Her gaze skipped past him to where another horse was being brought out for Zoe’s attention.

“On the contrary,” he said, “this is the perfect moment.” The tack room was right here, and if he didn’t miss his count, all the stable hands were out listening to the loud discussion between Lady Zoe and Mr. Barnes.

He cupped her elbow and quickly escorted her inside the barn.

As he thought, the place was empty except for horses.

When he pushed open the door to the tack room, it was filled with the pleasant scents of leather and linseed oil, and it was blissfully empty of people.

“In here,” he said as he pulled her inside and quickly shut the door behind them.

“Do you know,” he said, “that I have done little in the last twenty-four hours but think of you?”

“Me? But why?”

So many ways to answer that. “Mr. Pickleherring was incredibly unfair to you, and I hold myself partially responsible for that.”

“You? But you had nothing to do with it!”

It was his fault because she’d been targeted by Fletcher because of him.

Even he didn’t understand the logic there.

Worse, he could not attempt to explain it without revealing Nate’s role in all of this.

Nate, who was recovering nicely at the ducal home in London, but who was still stubbornly silent about his other activities.

Which was a long way of saying that she was the most pleasant thing to think about in his life. And so he did think of her. Obsessively. And how he could help her weather this storm.

“It was my spat that came loose. You would not have stumbled otherwise.”

“Your Grace—” she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

“Please, in private, call me Ras. All my friends do.”

Even in the shadows of the tack room, he could see the pink of her cheeks. Or perhaps he felt the heat of her increase. The moist feel of her breath against his hand. And…

“I have promised to find you a husband,” he rushed to say. It was an attempt to divert the direction of his thoughts. Sadly, it didn’t work. He pulled his hand away from her mouth and yet the feel of her was burned into his consciousness. “But that is vastly more difficult now.”

She nodded. “Any place for me in London is now gone. No one who has even the slightest association with polite society will have me.” Her head lifted as she no doubt fought tears. “My aunt has offered to write me a reference, but only if I go to Spain or Russia.”

“Spain or—” he choked off his word. “Do you have relations there?”

“No one. Nor do I speak the languages.”

The cruelty of some people. “You’d be better off in a workhouse.” Then at her wince, he quickly touched her arm. “You shall not be doomed to that. I swear it.”

She flashed him a brave smile. “There is another option for me. One that I had hoped you would help me with.”

“Anything.”

“Understand that I have seen what happens to impoverished girls. If my aunt and uncle had not taken me in, I would have ended up on this path. I would rather have some control over it than…” She visibly shuddered. “I would like to choose.”

He nodded, not understanding the direction of her thoughts.

“I know of no school who will take me as a teacher, nor a family who will have me as governess or companion. Not now that I have been so publicly reviled.”

“Not everyone reads the paper.” Just everyone in London and much of the outlying counties.