As he rolled up the map, the maid looked in to see if they were ready for the evening meal. As usual, the stablemen and grooms retreated to the taproom, where they could be comfortable and lower their guards out of the presence of their betters. The maid quickly came in and set the table for Nicholas, Adriana, and Dickie. They took their seats, and two other serving girls ferried in a soup tureen and two platters—one of roast lamb and mutton and the other piled high with roasted vegetables. Bread and butter appeared next, and they set to. After their day, Nicholas, for one, was hungry, and Dickie clearly was, too; between them, they made rapid inroads into the soup and bread and butter, followed by the roasted fare.
In contrast, Adriana consumed a mere cupful of soup and a small portion of the roasted meat and turnips and made no more attempt at conversation than Nicholas or Dickie.
The silence struck Nicholas as strange. While he was accustomed to such gustatorily induced lack of conversation when eating with other males, he hadn’t previously encountered a female who ate in silence. He couldn’t decide if such a happening was good or a portent of which to be wary; he kept glancing at Adriana, waiting to find out.
Finally, when the tureen and the main course were removed and a plain bread pudding placed before them, she straightened in her chair, and her lips parted as if she was about to speak, but then she only sighed.
No,Nicholas thought.This really won’t do.
He cast about for some topic that might engage his companions. While he didn’t have much hope that the subject would do the trick, he ventured, “Do you spend much time hunting around Aisby?”
Both Sommervilles looked up. From the light kindling in their eyes, he’d struck conversational gold.
“Of course!” Dickie replied. “We regularly ride with the Belvoir when it rides out of Grantham, and there’s various local hunts nearby.”
“As you might imagine,” Adriana put in, “given the countryside, the riding is superb! Lots of long runs, which, of course, is why the Belvoir come up to Grantham so often during the season. Our country is more challenging than theirs.”
“Definitely,” Dickie averred.
Nicholas leaned his forearms on the table. “What hunters do you have?”
They disposed of the bread pudding with barely a pause for breath. When the serving girls came to clear the table, Nicholas ordered brandies for himself and Dickie, and with Adriana, who declined a digestive, they retreated to the armchairs before the unlit fire.
The summer days had continued warm, and the evening was rather balmy.
To Nicholas’s relief, the conversation rolled on unabated as they sat savoring the brandy and happily describing horses, both those they owned and those they’d seen in action and admired.
“Your Tamerlane must be a sight in the chase,” Dickie said. “Lots of power there.”
Nicholas dipped his head. “It took me some time to convince him of the need to run with other horses close about him. He loves to run, but likes space. He doesn’t approve of being crowded.”
“With a stride like his,” Adriana shrewdly observed, “I doubt many horses could pace him.”
Dickie cocked a brow at Nicholas. “I daresay The Barbarian would, if he was at all inclined to run in a hunt.”
Adriana looked at Nicholas. “Is that why you want him for your breeding stable? For hunters?”
Nicholas shook his head. “For racers initially. Stayers. His stamina and strength as well as his action suggest his offspring could be magnificent on the track. That said, we’re also likely to pair him with the sort of mares that will bear heavy hunters.”
“Hmm.” Adriana eyed him calculatingly. “You mentioned us getting offspring as part of your offer for The Barbarian. Can we stipulate that those should be hunters rather than horses more suitable for racing?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
“Oh, but I might want a racehorse—just one.” Dickie took a sip of his brandy. “I could leave it with the Cynster Stable for training, couldn’t I?” When, laughing, Nicholas inclined his head in assent, Dickie went on, “I rather fancy being a racehorse owner, you know.”
Adriana laughed, too, and the siblings settled to ribbing each other about their prospects regarding The Barbarian’s offspring.
Smiling, Nicholas listened, entirely content for, of course, such talk was predicated on the horse being sold to the Cynster Stable.
By the time they rose to retire, Addie could view their present predicament and look forward to the coming day with some degree of equanimity if not positivity. Her natural optimism, which had been quashed by their failure to find any hint of the thief, had re-emerged, due in large part to Nicholas and his attempts to distract them.
As they started up the stairs, she felt very much in charity with him.
They reached the head of the stairs, and all three of them turned left. Dickie’s room proved to be nearest the stairs, and he bade her and Nicholas goodnight and, smothering a yawn, waved them on and retreated into his room.
She and Nicholas strolled on along the dimly lit corridor, which ended in an alcove, presently curtained, with two other corridors stretching to left and right. “Sally said my room was around the corner.”
Nicholas nodded. “Yours is to the left. Mine’s along on the right.”
