Page 53 of The Love Potion
“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’tborn 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 linseedoil, 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.
