Devenish promptly looked at Wisthorpe and tipped his head toward The Barbarian. “I can see that’s the horse you described to me. If he truly is yours to dispose of, I assume you can produce his papers.”
Wisthorpe frowned and darted a look at Kirkwood, who returned it with a blank, plainly uncomprehending stare. Wisthorpe brought his now-wary gaze back to Devenish. “What papers?”
Devenish’s jaw set, then in a clipped tone, he replied, “The papers that attest to the horse’s Thoroughbred pedigree via registration with the Jockey Club and which also, incidentally, act as proof of your right to sell him as the Thoroughbred he is.”
Wisthorpe’s widening eyes testified that he’d had no notion of the existence of any such papers. The glance he sent Kirkwood was panicked and accusing.
Nicholas helpfully added, “Without those papers, The Barbarian is merely a good-looking horse.”
“A very nice-looking horse,” Devenish put in, “but essentially useless to any breeding stable, or at least, any legitimate enterprise. Consequently, he’s worth very much less. Indeed, he’s not even worth as much as the deposit I’ve already paid you.”
Nicholas nodded. “Wisthorpe might not have mentioned this, but the horse is not only a stallion and exceedingly powerful and strong, but he’s also temperamental and all but unrideable.”
Devenish snorted. “His value is diminishing by the moment.” He fixed Wisthorpe with a cold, invincible stare. “I want my money back.”
Thoroughly panicked, Wisthorpe waved his free hand. “Wait. No. There must be some way…” Patently flummoxed, he looked at Kirkwood.
Kirkwood held up both hands, palms outward, and took a step back. “You told me you wanted the horse. You never said anything about needing any papers as well.”
Addie had been watching closely. She felt Phillip, beside her, step forward.
“No, indeed.” Phillip’s tone would have cut glass. He dipped his head fractionally to Wisthorpe. “Lord Phillip Sommerville.” Superiority dripped from the words.
Addie shared a quick grin with Dickie; never had she imagined being grateful for Phillip’s ability to project sanctimonious arrogance.
Phillip waved a languid hand, indicating the others of their party. “I’m here with these others to reclaim my father’s horse.” His gaze passed on to Kirkwood. “And to have a word with you. Wesley Kirkwood, I gather. It seems you blackmailed me and your cousin’s widow for nothing. Or at least”—Phillip tipped his head toward The Barbarian—“for nothing more than a good-looking nag.”
Wisthorpe had paled. His gaze fixed on Phillip, Wisthorpe looked faintly green. “Lord Sommerville,” he whispered.
Then he whirled on Kirkwood. “What have you done, you dolt?” Wisthorpe raised both hands, shaking them in a fury. “What have you involved me in?” His voice rose. “Blackmail? Of a peer? Of a member of the nobility?” Fists clenched, he glanced at the sky and shrieked, “What use is the beast to me if I can’t sell him and clear my debts and join society in a manner to which my birth and station entitles me?”
Devenish blinked. “Debts?
“Argh!”Wisthorpe dropped the leading rein and flung himself at Kirkwood.
“No!” Addie darted forward, trying to dodge the wrestling men. “Catch the rein!”
Too late. With a soft snort, The Barbarian took off.
“Damn it!” Addie straightened and watched the bay stallion race up the green. “He was waiting for that to happen.”
Nicholas halted beside her, and Nigel Devenish came to stand on her other side.
Devenish stared after The Barbarian. As the horse showed them a clean pair of heels as he took the hedge beside the church in style, Devenish murmured, “Damn, indeed. What a fabulous gait.”
“Come on.” Nicholas started up the green. “We’ll have to chase him.” He glanced back at Devenish. “There’s nowhere near here that the horse would know.” He tipped his head toward the church. “Our mounts are behind the church.”
Sobering, Devenish nodded. “I’ll get my horse and meet you there.”
Addie was already hurrying to the hedge. Reaching it, she scanned the views to either side of the church.
The land there, on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales, was deceptive; it looked like gently undulating fields, but there were steep gullies here and there. Perfect places in which a runaway horse might hide.
Nicholas and Dickie joined her, then Phillip and Viola arrived.
“I can’t see him anywhere,” Addie said. “Can any of you?”
Everyone searched, but no one saw any sign of a glossy bay hide.
