Page 11 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
As they often were, her parents were sitting in twin armchairs before the window at the end of the room. Both looked her way and smiled in welcome.
“Addie, my dear.” Her father held out a hand.
Smiling, she went forward and, clasping his hand firmly, bent and kissed his cheek. “Good morning, Papa.” Still smiling, she glanced at her mother. “Mama.”
What she saw in her mother’s eyes confirmed her conclusion, based on her father’s voice and clear gaze, that today was one of his “good days.” Those were the days when his wits were engaged and his thought processes remained lucid and rational.
Relieved herself—if she was going to discuss Nicholas’s offer, she needed her father in a capable state—she pulled up an ottoman and sat between them.
These days, her mother rarely left her father’s side. Either she or her father’s valet, Oswald, were always in attendance. Ever since the afternoon four months ago when the earl had disappeared and had only been located hours later after an estate-wide hunt, they quite simply didn’t let him out of someone’s sight. On that occasion, he’d been found wandering the meadows south of the lake, with no memory of how he’d got there or why he’d set out in the first place.
His confusion had been disturbing and not just for him. As, physically, he remained remarkably hale and strong, the sudden and unexpected bout of mental frailty had shaken everyone.
Sadly, there’d been other incidents since, destroying any hope that the first had been just a single, inexplicable interlude. So now they watched, waited, and hoped and made the most of days like today.
Banishing all negative thoughts, Addie ventured, “I took The Barbarian out this morning.”
Her father glanced at the pleasant summer day beyond the window. “A fine day for a gallop. How’s the horse doing?”
“Still a handful, but it appears that the news we have him here has spread.”
“Is that why Mr. Cynster called yesterday?” her mother inquired.
Addie blinked.
Her father smiled. “The youngsters told us about his visit just now, when they came to ask permission to go out on the lake.”
“Ah… Yes. He was quite helpful yesterday in managing one of the children’s experiments that had gone awry.” She met her father’s eyes and smiled. “Balloon-assisted flour bombs. They got stuck among the rafters of the porte-cochere.”
Her father grinned. “I see.”
“But,” Addie rolled on, “more to my point, Mr. Cynster joined me this morning while I was out riding The Barbarian. He was interested in viewing the horse in action, and long story short, he—on behalf of his family’s business—wishes to make an offer to buy the horse.”
“Is that so?” Her father’s gaze sharpened.
“The children seemed quite taken with Mr. Cynster,” her mother put in.
Addie wryly replied, “I suspect they were more taken with his horse and, perhaps, his ability to shoot down their balloons.”
“The imps said the gentleman was Mr. Nicholas Cynster.” Her father frowned. “Is that correct? Not Tobias?”
“No,” Addie said. “It was Nicholas. If I have the family tree straight, he’s Toby’s older brother.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Her mother glanced at the earl, presumably to see if he was following the connections.
“So,” her father obligingly reiterated, “Mr. Nicholas Cynster spoke with you this morning about buying The Barbarian. Did he impart any details as to what arrangement he has in mind?”
Addie drew breath and launched into a concise description of the elements of Nicholas’s offer. “He was willing to include a to-be-negotiated number of offspring, which, from what I gathered, might be quite valuable in themselves. In addition, of course, to the purchase price, but as to that, he would only say that he would at least match the market rate for such a horse.”
The earl nodded sagely. “He’ll want the final price to be part of our negotiations.”
“So I understood.” Briefly, Addie met her mother’s eyes, then refocused on her father. “Consequently, my question to you is do you wish to sell The Barbarian, or should I politely decline Cynster’s offer?”
The earl glanced at her mother, then looked back at Addie. “Well, my dear, the truth is that I’ve never felt that The Barbarian is actually my horse. He was always Henry’s horse, and even though Henry bequeathed the beast to me, I haven’t had a chance to ride him more than once, and what with one thing and another, I can’t see me taking up riding to hounds again.”
He smiled rather wistfully at Addie. “All of that is to say that I have no attachment to the animal, and I suppose he’s been eating his head off in the stable these past months. And you’ve had to be the one to give up time to exercise him, which is just another duty laid on your plate. As it now seems the horse might be valuable and Cynster is apparently prepared to pay well for him, then…” Her father held up his hands. “Perhaps we should consider his offer seriously, as it seems that, for us, The Barbarian is costing us more than he’s worth. In terms of the family and the estate, that horse’s scales are definitely not balanced.”
Addie nodded. “That’s an excellent way to put it.” She was relieved to find her father able to think so clearly.
