The Midnight Rake. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ deed if the opportunity presents itself.”

      Devlin nudged Phineas before replying. “Well count me in if it turns out to be a three man job.”

      “As you wish.”

      They neared the livestock area, aisle after aisle of wooden stalls, where a soft nicker or objecting whinny rent the air to interrupt their conversation despite the humid scent and fragrant straw proved a constant reminder of their purpose. Their steps quickened as they approached an outlying stable.

      “I assume it was difficult for your mother to plan your future from the countryside.” Devlin indicated a booth just ahead. “Is there more to this story?”

      “Actually there is. Quite a bit more.” But Phin stopped short in the retelling as his eyes swept over the magnificent animal in true appreciation. “I’ll tell you about Maman later. Let’s have a look.” Phineas stepped closer and ran his palm down the stallion’s fetlock. The horse stood at least fifteen hands high. Strong and well built, lean and fit, the thoroughbred was undoubtedly a sweetgoer.

      “I am determined to win this auction. No matter the cost.”

      The thoroughbred snorted and side-stepped, causing the men to shift their attention to the wooden ramp where a stranger lingered.

      “A pure beauty that one. I’ve heard it’s the prize of the auction block today.”

      The interloper eschewed a polite introduction and instead leaned against the gate wearing a cocky sneer. He continued to speak even though both men declined to reply.

      “I heard the horse is damaged goods though. Too bad, it is.”

      “Heard from whom and where?” Devlin stepped forward, annoyed with the rude pup who thought to interrupt and invite himself into a private conversation.

      “I’ve heard it about. Some fool will purchase the horse and wind up with a problem instead.”

      Phineas stepped to the forefront, the same annoyed insolence marring his face as displayed on Devlin’s. Something in the ostentatious nature of the interloper’s tone made him readily defensive. “This horse is in fine condition. Rumors circulate before auctions all the time. You’d do well to ignore them.” And then, against his better judgment, but with the same impeccable manners he always employed, he continued, “Viscount Fenhurst. Have we met before?” He initiated a handshake, skeptical of the man’s intentions.

      Devlin watched the exchange with cautious interest.

      “I haven’t had the pleasure. I’m Lord Ridley. My friends call me Arlis.”

      Devlin interrupted with a mutter meant for Phin’s ear only. “I wouldn’t doubt the entire audience knows you’re vying for this horse. Don’t let your guard down.”

      Phin nodded in agreement.

      “Are you new in town? New to Tattersalls?” Phin continued to assess the dark-haired gentleman with narrowed eyes. As a good judge of character, something did not sit right. He frequented the horse house often and recognized everyone. Undoubtedly he’d never seen this man. The contrasting shock of white hair near his temple guaranteed he would remember such an uncommon appearance.

      Ridley didn’t answer, posing a question of his own. “Are you fixing to bid on Trump’s horse then? I could only aspire to purchase such a fine animal.”

      Phineas deferred to ignore the rude inquiry. Devlin spoke in low tones, discussing the horse and simultaneously dismissing Ridley.

      “You have nothing to worry about, Phin. No one can match your bid and even if they do, you’ll have me for reinforcement. The animal is too good to pass. I spoke with Trumpington last evening at the club. He knows you’re his prime investor. I’m confident you will be riding this animal in two days’ time. More’s the pity you will house him at Betcham Manor when he’s a natural for the Ascot Racecourse.”

      Phin could not stave off a smile. “You never gamble anyway. The horse is better off with me. Now let’s get back to the main floor. I have a lot to tell you. I may have been in Brighton for a fortnight, but I feel like it’s been more akin to a month.”

      The two friends left the paddock and walked past Ridley with nothing more than a nod.

      “So tell me about your houseguests.” Devlin glanced up from his perusal of the auction pamphlet.

      The two men reposed in one of Tattersalls subscription rooms enjoying a brandy. The auction holding their interest wouldn’t start for another hour and there would be many other animals for bid before Trumpington’s horse took the block.

      “After the morning I experienced returning from Brighton, breaking my fishing reel—”

      “Not the Nottingham rod I just gave you?”

      His friend’s immediate interjection voiced disappointment that mirrored his own and Phineas cursed himself for the slip of tongue.

      “Unfortunately that’s the one. My entire morning proved unbearable, but it didn’t end there.” Phineas released a sigh of frustration. “I arrived home to find Jenkins with his smalls in a twist, my entire staff bustling about readying the house for the unexpected visit of Maman and her new friends.” He took a sip of brandy, his voice dropping lower. “Penelope Rosebery and her younger sister do seem lovely ladies.”

      “Do I detect a note of interest?” Friendly mockery laced Devlin’s question.

      “You sound like your wife, except you know I’m in no hurry to marry; although Penelope is pretty in an unusual sort of way. She has the most extraordinary eyes.” Phin didn’t mention the long list of other attributes rushing to mind. He wondered if Penelope had freckles elsewhere on her body or were the charming little spots designed exclusively for her perfectly kiss-worthy nose.

      Devlin smirked and finished his brandy.

      “What?” Phineas shook his head. “What did I say?”

      “Nothing. Nothing at all. You’re as transparent as glass and as forthcoming as a waterfall, so let’s hope you weren’t of the same mind in front of said female.” Devlin smothered a grin.

      “It doesn’t matter anyway. Penelope’s in London to locate someone in particular. She confessed she has strong feelings for the gentleman.” Phin didn’t share his theory concerning her interests. He’d be every kind of fool to offer further ammunition to his far too witty friend.

      “There you are!” Constantine Highborough, Earl of Colehill, approached their table with wholehearted greetings. Lord Harold Chadling followed closely behind. The two gentlemen attended Cambridge with Phin and had come to fetch him as the Trumpington horse was going up on the block earlier than expected.

      “There’s a rumbling in the crowd that the horse is unfit.” Harold offered this as the men walked toward the auction house. “The earlier time is meant to avoid further speculation that the animal is damaged goods.”

      “Complete rubbish.” Phin knew the rumor as an old ploy to try to diminish bidding. “Have you heard the same, Con?”

      Constantine Highborough held the favor of the ton. The folds of his starched white cravat were as perfectly СКАЧАТЬ