Page 48 of A Duke in the Rough


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“It is a beautiful horse,” Honoria said, hoping to lighten Priscilla’s spirits.

“Mmm. But too much for my brother. I’m wondering if there’s a particular lady who has captured his eye, and he’s trying to impress her.”

“As Lord Nash did for you?”

Priscilla shook her head. “He wasn’t trying to impress me; he was goading my future husband. Nash confided as much to me later.” A wistful expression crossed Priscilla’s face. “Did I ever tell you how Timothy and I met?”

Honoria shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

She laughed. “He fell off his horse and injured his ankle. So perhaps my brothershouldbe the one to ride that black beast.”

When all was said and done, Mr. Pratt did indeed win the argument, and Dr. Marbry chose an imposing dappled gray.

“Now, go choose your horse before the men take all the good ones.” Priscilla gave her a little push forward.

Honoria moved toward a lovely golden gelding that reminded her of Buttercup.

While Honoria was only ten paces away, Anne raced up to the mounting block. “Oh, he’s beautiful.”

“Miss Weatherby. I would caution you.”

Honoria spun to find Drake, his brow creased as he approached with long strides. “That horse has only recently been broken and requires an experienced rider.” He darted a glance toward Honoria.

“Nonsense, Mr. Merrick,” Anne said, giving a little shake to the red curls peeking from under her pale-blue bonnet. “I’m an excellent rider.”

“Anne.” Mr. Weatherby nudged his horse up to his sister. “You overestimate your abilities. Listen to Mr. Merrick and choose another horse.”

Her mouth in a little pout, Anne shook her head again. “I like this one. You worry too much, Andrew. I’ve even been practicing my jumps.” She jutted her chin and squared her shoulders, reminding Honoria of her seven-year-old niece Cassandra.

“Anne,” Honoria said, trying to reason with her friend. “Mr.Merrick is an excellent judge of horses. If he feels the horse is not the best choice for you, you should listen.”

“Not you, too, Honny? I mean Honoria. You just watch me!”

Mr. Weatherby gave his head a resigned shake. No doubt he was even more accustomed to Anne’s stubbornness than Honoria was.

Honoria exchanged a commiserating sigh with Drake. She stepped closer. “Is it truly unsafe for her, Drake? Perhaps Burwood could demand she dismount?”

“It’s true Buttercup is newly broken and would benefit from a level-headed rider, but”—he gave her a weak smile—“the truth of the matter is, I selected him for you.”

Oh.Her heart squeezed a bit, thenthumpedhard against her rib cage. “His name is Buttercup?”

Drake ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, um. Yes. I thought it fit him.”

“I thought so, too.” She gazed longingly at the horse, remembering his namesake, wet forget-me-nots, and declarations of love.

“Let’s find you another.” Drake motioned for a groom. “Saddle Mercy and bring her here as quickly as possible.” He turned toward Honoria. “You’ll like Mercy. She’s a spirited chestnut mare who delivered a foal a fortnight ago. We’ve not been riding her, but she should suit you.”

With the other riders mounted and ready to go, Honoria felt all eyes upon her as she waited for a mount.

Her father tugged on his riding gloves. “Did Burwood underestimate the number of riders, or was that your mistake, Merrick?”

Drake ignored him and mounted his white steed, looking very much like a knight to her.

When she thought she would dissolve in embarrassment, a groom rushed over with a little chestnut mare and helped her into the saddle.

Burwood trotted over on his black steed. “Let us begin.”

Honoria patted Mercy on the neck and adjusted in the saddle, wishing she were out on a simple ride with only Drake by her side.