Page 88 of Snapdragons
That stopped Niles in his tracks. “Cornishfairings?”
The woman nodded. “My mum’s from Cornwall. Taught me how to make them.”
Niles looked to Penelope. “Have you ever had a Cornish fairing?”
“I’ve not the first idea what it is.”
“A variety of ginger biscuit,” he said. “The very best variety.”
“I love ginger biscuits,” Penelope said.
He paid the biscuit seller and gave Penelope the purchased ginger treat. As they walked along, she broke off a piece and held it out to him.
“It’s your biscuit, my dear. I’ll not steal it from you,” he said.
She laughed a bit. “I’m offering; therefore, it is not stealing.AndI am keeping most of it, which pleases me to no end. I willenjoy it thoroughly.”
He accepted the offered bit of biscuit. “One of the most ridiculous rows I ever had with Stanley Cummings—Julia’s late brother, he was one of the Gents—was over a biscuit. Atinof biscuits, if I am being entirely honest. We knew at the time it was ridiculous, but we were both being stubborn.”
“I am grateful you have learned to stop being stubborn about biscuits.”
On they wandered, past stalls and crowds. It was an easy thing being in her company. Even dressed a little uncomfortably and with the worry of the next day’s fight heavy on his mind, he felt entirely at ease. She lifted his burdens simply by being with him. He hoped he did the same for her.
They reached the open area where horses were corralled in the hope of being sold. He’d always enjoyed that section of any fair. It was no surprise that Penelope immediately stopped to study the animals. Offerings at country fairs like this were often sparse and focused on work horses. He didn’t doubt Penelope would appreciate a horse no matter its pedigree or purpose, but Fairfield’s focus would be riding horses or impressive matched teams to pull grand carriages. She was unlikely to find something here that would suit her needs.
“Niles.” She spoke his name in an amazed whisper. “Look at that horse by the wagon.”
He followed her gaze to a stunning white horse.
“I can’t tell from this distance and angle if it is a mare, a stallion, or a gelding.” Her focus hadn’t shifted in the least. “Do you suppose it is pure white or a gray that has gone white?”
“We’d need to get a closer look.”
But she shook her head. “That would afford its handlers a closer look at you and a reason to remember you. ’Twould be dangerous for tomorrow.”
“And unfortunately,” he said, “they probably won’t discussanything with you if you attempt an inquiry yourself.”
“That is truer than it ought to be.”
A quick glance around revealed they were in luck. Aldric and Digby were happening past.
Niles waved them over. “Penny would very much like to know more about the white horse at the back, but neither of us is in a position to lead the charge in asking questions.”
Digby caught on quickly. “Because she is a lady, and you are a... duke.”
Aldric was nodding along, clearly having realized the impediment at the same time Digby had.
“We’ll lead the discussion,” Aldric said. “You two remain nearby and keep your ears perked.”
It was the perfect plan.
“My good man,” Digby called out to the horse trader nearest the animal they were interested in. He waved him over.
“’Ow may I ’elp you?” The man watched them with awe and hope.
“What can you tell us of that white animal?” Digby asked the question casually, with the air of dandification that had prevented so many people over the years from taking his true measure.
“Spirited stallion,” the man said.
