Page 557 of From Rakes to Riches

Though tempted, Gemma resisted and made to slip away to the horses. She was more comfortable with animals than with people, anyway.

“Gem?” intoned a deep voice at her back.

She froze mid step. Why wouldn’t Rakesley just let her go?

Slowly, she turned, but kept her gaze fixed upon the mud-encrusted tips of her boots as, like a good, respectful lad, she waited for the duke to proceed.

“Hannibal’s been out on the track today?”

The question irked her. As if he were questioning her sense of duty and devotion. “Took him out for his paces first thing,” she said in Gem’s surly voice—inhersurly voice. “As usual,”she added, then she kept talking. “I’m a firm believer in a set routine.” And, oh, she just couldn’t stop… “As you’re well aware.”

That last bit had been entirely unnecessary—but also impossible for her not to speak.

She risked a glance up. He knew it, too, judging by the clench of his jaw.

Her gaze shifted. The lifted brows of Lady Artemis andCeliasaid they knew it as well.

Splendid.

Now, everyone knew she’d gone too far with a duke.

In more ways than one, spoke a small, unhelpful voice.

The ladies couldn’t possibly know that—unless…it was somehow obvious.

It certainlyfeltobvious.

Rake’s gaze didn’t relent. “And the saddle?” he asked, as if they were the only two people on this hill.

“The saddle?”

“The new one from London.”

Ah.“It’s lighter, and the leather is thick and pliable. Hannibal has taken no issue with it.”

Rakesley nodded. “And you?”

“Me?”

“Do you take any issue with it?” he asked. “Is the cantle low enough for your?—”

Now, it was Gemma’s eyebrows lifting alongside those of Lady Artemis and the duchess.

If Gemma wasn’t very mistaken, that sentence ended with…

Bottom.

The Duke of Rakesley was concerned about her…bottom.

Wouldn’t be the first time, returned the small voice.

Heat crept up her throat, reaching the tips of her ears.

There was no such thing as a discreet blush for the red of hair.

Lady Artemis turned to the duchess. “Celia,” she said brightly, as if suddenly struck by an idea. “I must meet Silky Sadie. Any filly who could go the distance in the St. Leger is a legend in my book.”

The duchess blinked her luminous amber eyes at the awkward change of subject. “Oh, yes, she is certainly a fine mare.”

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