Given his persistence, she had to weigh the risks of attempting to deny him—and him refusing to accept her dismissal and somehow forcing his way in to see her father—against her remaining in control and managing any interaction.
No choice. Not really.
She heaved a suitably dramatic sigh, then shook The Barbarian’s reins and set the big horse trotting.
Naturally, Nicholas Cynster kept his powerful gray alongside.
She dipped her head his way. “As it seems you’re so determined, perhaps you might give me an outline of your offer.”
He proceeded to do so. While she might have zero experience in the selling of horses, she’d overseen the estate accounts for long enough to have some idea of the sums her father and her older brother Dickie paid for their mounts. And while Nicholas deferred stating any actual figure as his price, indicating that was a point for negotiation, he did make it plain that he was willing to offer, at the very least, the going rate for a Thoroughbred stallion.
Addie hoped her father or Dickie would know what that amount was. Dickie was due home any day; she suspected he would be her most reliable source of information.
Nicholas painted his offer in the best possible light, but was careful to leave himself room to negotiate. “One point I’m not yet clear on is how your father came to own The Barbarian. You mentioned a bequest.” A thought occurred, and he met her gaze. “I assume your father has the horse’s papers? His bloodlines?”
She blinked, then to his relief, nodded. “I’ve seen them. I did wonder why a horse had such formal and important-looking documents. Like a birth certificate.”
“Trust me, the horse’s value lies in those papers. That’s why they’re so important.” He looked at The Barbarian. “Without them, he’s just a good-looking horse.”
“I see.”
She’d led them on a circuitous route that would, eventually, return them to The Barbarian’s paddock; Nicholas could see the gate some way ahead.
“To answer your question,” she went on, “my father was left the horse by a longtime friend, the late Viscount Wisthorpe. He often came to stay during hunting season and would ride out with Papa. Papa had admired The Barbarian when last he’d visited Wisthorpe, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that the late viscount left the horse to him.”
“Wisthorpe.” Nicholas frowned. “Where exactly is the viscount’s seat?”
“In Yorkshire.” Her lips quirked. “Not exactly horse-racing or hunting country, not compared to Newmarket or Lincolnshire or Leicestershire, but…” She shrugged. “The late Viscount Wisthorpe appreciated good horseflesh.”
“Apparently. I don’t suppose you know from where he got the horse?”
Addie shook her head. “I don’t believe I ever heard.”My father might know.She bit the words back. The last thing she needed was for Nicholas to test her father’s memory. Then again, these days, her father’s recollection of times long gone seemed much more certain than those of five minutes past.
Nicholas’s question served only to underscore that she needed to remain in control of any interaction between him and her father, and the only certain way to do that… “I’ll take your offer to Papa.” She glanced sidelong at Nicholas. “I promise I’ll relate all you’ve said regarding your offer exactly as you’ve put it to me.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“I’ll send a message to the Angel—”
“It’s barely midmorning.” He glanced at the sky. “Why don’t you put my offer to your father over the next several hours, and I’ll call again this afternoon.” He returned his gaze to her face. “Shall we say after two o’clock?”
She searched his brown eyes and saw nothing but granitelike determination.
Then his expression eased, and he faced forward. “How are your brothers and sister today? Have they recovered from their disappointment over the failure of their barrage balloons?”
“The children are fully recovered,” she coolly replied. Apparently, he wasn’t above using the fact that he’d helped avert disaster to pressure her. Regardless, arguing with him might not be wise. There was really no reason she couldn’t give him her father’s response in person.
No reason other than my leaping nerves and swooning senses.
Luckily, being forced to deal with him had largely distracted her from those less-than-welcome effects of his presence.
“Very well,” she conceded. “Let’s say two-thirty. That will give me time enough to discuss the matter in detail with Papa.”
They’d reached the open gate to the paddock, and they both drew rein.
She glanced at him and saw he was smiling. Genuinely, spontaneously smiling. She fought not to blink, not to show any reaction to the quite devastating transformation.
“Excellent!” He turned his smile on her, and she stopped breathing. “Two-thirty, then.” His gaze roved her face, and his expression softened. He inclined his head to her. “Until then, Lady Adriana.”
