Page 7 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

“Uh, no, but thank you.”

Percy shrugged. “Maybe the valet will want them.”

August ignored his cousin and strode after Lilly, catching up with her as she skipped down the rear steps toward the courtyard.

“Did you come alone?” he asked as he came to her side.

“No, of course not. My aunt is seeing to our own horses.” She nodded toward a carriage, black and shiny and emblazoned with her father’s crest.

“But of course. How silly of me,” he muttered dryly.

“Why do you say it like that?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Lilly Musgrave was the sort of woman who rode astride and didn’t wear a bonnet to protect herself from the sun or the rain and came from a family who stole dogs, and climbed statues naked, and generally caused all sorts of trouble. August wasn’t averse to trouble himself, but the difference was, he didn’t mind handling the trouble that followed him.

He just didn’t need this troublesome woman getting in the way of his great plans.

“You’re of an age where you can travel unaccompanied,” he muttered vaguely.

“I rather think my father might have something to say of me staying at a traveler’s inn alone,” she pointed out.

“Yes, well…” He didn’t manage anything more than that. She picked up the pace, forcing him to lengthen his stride until he was practically running after her.

She froze in the dim, wide entrance to the stables.

He came up behind her. “What’s the matter?”

Lilly gestured about the stables. Straw lay scattered across the stalls, tack hung from hooks upon the walls.

But there were no horses. None.

Not even Icarus.

Chapter Three

Lilly might have suspected Lord Blackthorpe to be behind the disappearance of Icarus were it not for a curse word so sharp escaping him that it made her want to cover her ears.

Not that she hadn’t uttered the word under her breath a time or two but that was a little different to hearing it bared out loud in his deep voice.

Of course, the man could be an excellent actor. After all, a rake like himself with a history of breaking women’s hearts was probably adept at playing pretend.

She spared him the briefest glance before she marched outside, put her hands to her hips, and peered around the courtyard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming to her side.

“Icarus has to be here somewhere.”

There was no sign of any stablehands or grooms or farriers. From the bustle inside, she imagined they were all dispatched to aid with packing up the house. She paced over to her aunt who had found a nosebag for their own horses. Any other person might be perplexed at the lack of stablehands but Aunt Sarah could never be accused of being a traditional sort of woman.

“No one to help?” she asked.

Her aunt shrugged. “Seems everyone is occupied.” She glanced past Lilly. “Lord Blackthorpe is it not?”

Lord Blackthorpe stepped past Lilly and offered a dip of his head. “Mrs. Knighton. We’ve met once or twice in London, I believe.”

“Indeed. A pleasure to see you again, my lord.”

“Call me August, please.”

---