Page 27 of The Trouble with Anna

He laughed. “I’m glad Soussi approves of me. Now, do you intend to give me breakfast or are the horses the only ones who get fed?”

“Yes, of course, in just a moment. But after breakfast, I’ll need to stay at Chatham for a while. I’m afraid I have quite a few hours of work waiting for me at the main house.”

Julian’s forehead furrowed. “Hours of work?”

Her odd eyebrows flattened. “Why are you staring at me like that, my lord? You take your responsibilities seriously—should I neglect mine?”

“Of course not,” he said, as if it wasn’t exactly what he’d been thinking. “But as your guardian, I ought to have a sense of what your responsibilities are.”

Anna studied him. “All right. Give me a few minutes more and breakfast is yours.”

Julian leaned against the cold stone wall as she dashed off, as light and lithe on her feet as she’d been in the saddle.

“William!” she called to a young groom with a bleary face and a thatch of blond hair that grew up from his head like a sheaf of wheat. “A word?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“In private.”

Anna led William into a stall and lowered her voice, but Julian crossed the stable and eavesdropped shamelessly. “Sloppy riding this morning. Was it a hard night?”

William’s tone darkened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

That was it for Julian. He pushed off the wall and started forward, but Anna’s voice stopped him.

“Poor Prado. The way you rode him today made you both look drunk.”

“On my aunt, I never touched a drop!”

“It’s a shame—just as I was planning to try you on a two-year-old. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“Tacitus?” the young man ventured.

“Caesar, even. Think you could teach him some manners before the Ipswich Cup?”

William’s hair waved back and forth above the wood of the stall with violent enthusiasm. “I could indeed, my lady.”

Julian was conscious of a strange warmth in his chest as Anna emerged from the stall. If her eyes were sharp, it was because they missed nothing, not a loose cinch, not an off gait, not a feed bag that was lighter than it should be. If she sometimes went silent in the drawing room, it was because she used up her voice here calling out rapid-fire instructions. The great, bustling estate of Chatham revolved around this one prickly young woman.

Who, Julian noted with a grin, once again had a thick stripe of mud on her hem.

William led his horse into the yard, wincing at the morning sunlight, and a voice from the courtyard called out, “Listen to you, young William, licking her boots good and clean. She’ll be out on her arse in six months’ time!”

Anna whirled, her skirts wrapping tight around her and her face so pale that rage roared up in Julian’s chest.

“Who said that?” he yelled. The grooms whipped their heads to their tasks as he stalked down the length of the stables.

“Lord Ramsay, wait!” called Anna.

But Julian was already out in the yard.

“Your name,” he said softly to the man standing there. “What is it?”

“Hoyle, my l-lord.” The man darted a look over Julian’s shoulder toward Anna.

“Look at me, Hoyle, not her. Shall I dismiss you?”

The groom’s face went slack with horror.

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