Page 27 of Hearts of Briarwall

Spencer nodded, choosing his words carefully. “My father built his own carriage company from the ground up. He had a fleet of thirty carriages—hackneys and hansoms—and a team for each serving the city and its outer areas.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Oscar said. He was the most talkative of the brothers, and Spencer had liked him right away. They all had an effortless way about them and would’ve fit in at Ward End as easily as they did here at Grant’s. That, Spencer knew, was a hard person to find.

The thought came to him that perhaps Miss Wooding was also such a person. He recalled her windblown hair and the shape of her breeches—

“Hayes?”

He blinked at Oscar. “Yes?”

“Did you see anything you liked this morning?”

“Er—” Horses. The man was referring to horses. He cleared his throat, glancing at Andrew. “Not especially. Though I appreciated the matched set of duns.” His time at the horse auction had not been as tedious as he’d imagined. If anything, it had reassured him that, though he’d spent a great deal of time away from home, he’d picked up enough knowledge from his younger days of shadowing his father that he recognized the qualities of a good horse. And a good set to pull a carriage.

Andrew leaned forward. “They caught my eye as well. I’ve always been partial to duns. I’m not sure why. The latest fashion is a pair of dark glossy bays pulling one’s phaeton.”

“Perhaps it’s because they remind you of your coffee with cream,” George said, gesturing to Andrew’s swirling, steaming cup.

Cyril chuckled. “He always did prefer brunettes.”

Spencer quirked a smile. “That is true. A creamy complexion as well.”

George sniggered. “The perfect woman, then, a dun. How do you feel about big teeth?”

The brothers laughed.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I often question why I keep company with you lot. If I wanted this kind of abuse, I would be with our sisters in London as we speak.”

Oscar made a face of disbelief. “Anything but that.”

Spencer recalled how much he’d enjoyed the quick—and unorthodox—banter of the ladies last evening. “I found them delightful.”

George nearly spit out his food. “That is because there were only two of them,neitherwas your own sister, and they were not bent on emasculating you where you stood.”

“Ah. I can see how that could be ... not delightful.”

All four other men lifted their various cups. “Here, here.”

Their meal arrived with a flourish, the soup a rich gold and sprinkled with nutmeg, the bread crusty, and scallops still sizzling. The men dug in.

But Spencer turned to Andrew, sobering as he studied his friend. “Would you like to hear my theory as to why you prefer the duns?”

“Do enlighten me.” It sounded more like a dare than genuine interest.

Spencer picked up his spoon, using it to gesture. “Though you like order—symmetry—you are also not one to bow down to fashion. You would be hard-set to find better matched markings, color, and, I’m guessing, dispositions, than on that set we saw.”

Andrew grunted, Spencer assumed, in agreement.

“Yet,” Spencer continued, “they are still apart from what society has assigned—this year—as ideal. It has always been your way. To look at what society has dictated you should embrace, and step just sideways of it. And, if I might say so,” he added with a grin, “you get away with it. Every time.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes, humor in his expression. “Why do I get the feeling you are referring to my befriending a brash, first-year whelp from Brum who had a brilliant mind and a horrid accent andnotto a pair of horses I must now purchase?”

Spencer tore off a piece of his bread and dipped it in the soup. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, friend.” He bit off a large piece and chewed, not bothering to hide his smile.

Lydia sat in front of her mirror. Fallon had tended to her dress and hair. Left to herself, she stared at the small crystal bottle of Edwardian Bouquet, recalling her friends’ parting words to her that afternoon as they dropped her off at Briarwall.

“Wouldn’t it work better to test it in a room full of men?” Ruby had asked. “Where do we get one of those?”

“A room full of men?” Lydia had said with a smirk. “We’d likely not be allowed in.”

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