Page 31 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
She snorted softly. “I imagine your mama would have something to say to that.”
He grinned. “Mama and my aunts and various cousins and connections, but luckily, there are so many of us—of the wider Cynster family of my generation—that there’s always some budding romance somewhere to keep them amused.”
“So thus far, you’ve escaped?”
“Indeed. And that’s left me free to concentrate on improving the Cynster Stable’s standing and our results. Among other things, that means acquiring horses like The Barbarian.” He paused, then added, “Having taken over the stables from my famous father, I feel a certain pressure to make my mark, and in reality, the only way to do that is to significantly improve our stock.”
She grinned. “I have to admit that given you’re the scion of a ducal dynasty, I was rather surprised to see you ride up, rather than sweep up the drive in a phaeton of the sort to make my brothers salivate.”
His answering smile was full of amusement. “I leave that to others of the clan. I’ve always been more comfortable on horseback.”
She bit her tongue on the observation that he cut a more dashing figure that way. She’d made enough unexpected revelations that day.
The horses were contentedly cropping, and the westering sun was still warm. Eager to keep the focus on him rather than allow it to swing back to her, she asked, “So how do you fill your days?” When he looked at her, she met his gaze. “Is it all watching races or…?”
“Mostly ‘or.’ Indeed, almost exclusively ‘or.’ Attending the major race meets takes up only a small portion of my time. The rest is spent mostly on Newmarket Heath, watching over training sessions. Beyond that, a lot of my time goes in learning what other trainers are up to, both in searching for ways to improve our methods as well as assessing the competition.”
“I’ve run into Toby several times in London. You said he’s also involved in running the stables.”
Nicholas nodded. “My sister Pru used to manage the breeding stable, and Toby acted as her lieutenant. I was always in charge of the racing and training stable—that side of the business. When Pru married and went to live in Ireland, managing her new husband Glengarah’s breeding stable instead of ours, Toby stepped into her shoes.”
“So your siblings are as horse-mad as you?”
He laughed. “The older three of us could legitimately be labeled horse-mad, but the youngest, Meg, is entirely the opposite—she’s determinedly uninterested in anything to do with horses. She routinely refers to them as ‘smelly beasts.’”
She chuckled. “She sounds…willful.”
Smiling fondly, he nodded. “She is.”
Nicholas met Adriana’s blue eyes and, once again, felt a visceral tug, a connection utterly unlike any he’d felt before.
Then again, how often had he sat with a gently bred female and discussed his life and his family, even in such a general way?
Before she could see any hint of the impulses rising within him, he glanced at the horses. “We should get on. One of the other teams might have had better luck and be waiting for us to return.”
He got to his feet, and she rose with him.
They moved to reclaim their reins, but instead of waiting for him to lift her to her saddle, she used one of the boulders as a mounting block and scrambled up.
Somewhat cravenly grateful to be spared another jolt to his ever-increasing awareness of her, he swung up to his saddle and, when she tapped her heel to her horse’s side, followed her out of the lookout and onto the road again.
They rode straight to the Angel, and he dismounted in the yard. Walking to where, having slipped her boot free of her stirrup and swung around on her saddle, Adriana sat perched on her chestnut’s back, Nicholas tightened his grip on his inner self’s reins, lifted her down, and immediately released her and stepped back before any wayward impulse could prod him into doing anything more.
The sound of hooves clattering on cobbles drew their attention to the entrance to the yard. Dickie and Rory rode in. Their glum faces told their story even before they dismounted and confirmed that they’d discovered no sighting despite having found a goodly number of people to ask.
“The only thing I feel confident in stating,” Dickie concluded, following his sister into their private parlor, “is that wherever our thief has taken The Barbarian, it isn’t to the south or southwest.”
Adriana slumped into an armchair. “And from our searching, it isn’t to the west or northwest, either.”
Nicholas followed the pair into the parlor and waved at Rory, who’d hung back, to join them. When Rory did and closed the door, Nicholas asked, “Have you seen Young Gillies and the others?”
Rory shook his head. “No, sir. Not since we all set out.”
“That’s odd.” Dickie frowned. “They had the least distance to cover. They should have been back first.”
Hurrying footsteps beyond the door preceded a sharp knock, then the door opened, and Young Gillies looked in. He saw them and grinned. “We think we know which way the blackguard went.”
Needless to say, the announcement revived the rest of the company. Nicholas waved Young Gillies in, and everyone focused their attention on him. “The others?” Nicholas asked as Young Gillies shut the door.
