Page 494 of From Rakes to Riches

But did.

It was asomething morethat could lead to trouble far beyond simple dismissal.

Rake had askedhis valet to wake him an hour earlier than usual this morning.

As he’d been doing for the last four days.

Earlier in the week, Wilson had informed him that the stable lad Gem had been walking Hannibal out to the south paddock before everyone waked. Rake had instructed Wilson to do nothing and allow him to continue. Clearly, lad and horse had an affinity for one another, and Rake was an experienced enough horseman to know not to interfere. Those bonds were useful, particularly with an ill-tempered horse.

The next morning, Rake had felt compelled to see lad and horse with his own eyes, and it had been as Wilson described—Gem leading Hannibal around the paddock a few times, then back into the stable.

Rake had begun looking forward to waking every morning to see what new progress Gem had made. A few days ago, Gem had even managed to get a saddle onto the beast’s back. Then, today, the lad had done it—he’d convinced Hannibal to allow him to mount.

Though he’d naught to do with it, a genuine sense of accomplishment had soared through Rake.

At last.

Now he could start getting somewhere with an animal he was still irked about having been tricked into buying. It wasn’t every day someone succeeded in getting one over on the Duke of Rakesley.

Now, Rake stepped closer, refusing to release the lad’s gaze that wanted to skitter away. A long moment stretched between them.

What was it about this lad, anyway?

Something intangible pulsed between them.

Something that made Rake slightly uncomfortable.

“Brother,” came a feminine voice.

Reluctantly, Rake flicked a glance toward Artemis, who was walking over with Dido.

“Can you believe it?” she asked, bursting with excitement, as they watched Gem circle the paddock with Hannibal.

“Hardly.”

“He might not be a lost cause, after all,” Artemis called out to Gem.

“No horse is a lost cause,” he returned.

A mouthy lad, to be sure.

“Milady,” he added in that low, raspy voice of his, as if only just realizing whom he was addressing.

Artemis wouldn’t notice—or care, if she did—that a stable lad was speaking to her out of turn. All were equals on the turf, he’d heard her say more than once.

“Gem,” began Artemis, her head canted slightly, gaze glinting with assessment.

Rake’s hackles rose. Best to watch out when that particular look entered his sister’s eye.

“Have you ever considered being a jockey?” she asked.

And the plain fact walloped Rake over the head. How hadn’t he seen it before?

Gem…

A jockey.

Well, Artemis had seen it and was now attempting to poach the lad.

---