Society's Most Scandalous Viscount. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ perfect person to confirm the grade. The animal waits for your approval in the stable.” He swung his attention to Penwick. “By the by, I’m inviting my older brother Randolph to London next month and I’m certain he’ll need a new mount. Something to keep in mind, along with Kell’s inspection of the newly purchased cattle.” Oliver took another bite of sandwich and settled in his seat, the latter part of the elucidation apparently falling to Penwick.

      “I’d appreciate your opinion if it’s not too much trouble,” Penwick appealed with a solemn expression. “It’s the new money and title that has me at crosses. I’m to suddenly fall in line with the loftiest aristocrats when last year I was nothing more than the distant relative of an upper ten.” He stifled a smirk that displayed his discomfort. “I’m not complaining, although the transition has been swift and unsettling. Purchasing a stable of superior horseflesh is both necessary and expected.” Satisfied with his explanation, he too prepared a plate and forked food into his mouth, his expression grim as he took less than enthusiastic bites.

      “I’d be happy to examine the animal. What are your future plans? Will you stay through the week then?” The company would be a distraction. Aside from a growing interest to find the lovely miss from the moonlight, Kell had little on his agenda, and a lingering question hung in the air—were his friends here to check on his behavior following his distinct and abrupt exile from London, or were they passing through Brighton in earnest? He wondered for a fleeting moment if by chance Jasper had instigated the visit. St. David was a true and trusted friend. Jasper would be concerned about his welfare.

      “Can’t say we will.” Oliver finished chewing. “Penwick’s not just about horses these days so back to the city we go.” He nodded his head toward the window as if London began on the front lawn. “He’s wife shopping too.”

      This prompted an unexpected round of chuckles, although everyone seemed uneasy with the suggestion of volunteering for a leg-shackle. A fraught silence followed.

      “Jasper appears content despite his new condition.” Kell admired his friend’s risibility, able to approach life with an effortless disposition. “I’ll stick with horses.”

      Laughter made another round.

      “The delightful Miss Shaw is a rarity and I’m happy for Jasper’s recent marriage.” Oliver replaced his dish on the table and reclined in the cane-backed chair. “May we all be so lucky when the time for betrothal arrives.”

      “It is my purpose and next course of action.” Penwick appeared conflicted though his words rang with determination. “A man can plan his future, know when the correct choice lies in reach, yet sometimes Fate interferes.” A cryptic note of inquiry punctuated his admission.

      “I doubt the future holds any such munificence.” Kell stated the fact with bald aplomb. He was a man of singular focus and despite his conflicted hopes for marriage he had his reservations about the condition. “Tell me more about your new horse. Can he compare to my Nyx?” The question was posed as a courtesy. No other mount had the stamina, speed, or intelligence of his Arabian. He straightened his shoulders with pride. Damn it, he loved the animal more than he should.

      “Nearly as fast, I presume.” Penwick’s enthusiasm revived with the change of subject. “At least that’s what I was led to believe, although if you’re up for it, after lunch we can take them out for a run. It’s why Oliver and I chose to swing our travels to Brighton in the first place.”

      The two men exchanged a meaningful stare and Kell again wondered at the level of truth in Penwick’s statement. He’d determine it soon enough. Discarding suspicion, he pursued the equine topic, always a gratifying diversion.

      “Excellent. I propose we ride to South Downs. There are miles of flat range before the crest and as long as we avoid the steep escarpment to the north, our horses can race the wind unencumbered by hazard. The only way to determine your mount’s leg is by a good hard sprint.” Kell spent many mornings outrunning the susurration of regret and enduring remorse. Riding Nyx served as joy and release.

      “You’re not suggesting a race through Hell’s Gate? Only a fool bent on expediting his journey to the underworld would dare such a feat.” Oliver’s incredulous tone announced his opinion, while Penwick’s head jerked up with mention of the notorious pass.

      “Kell’s not so foolish.” Penwick didn’t say more. “The danger involved is out of the question.”

      Hell’s Gate consisted of a narrow opening through dual opposing rock formations near the scarped slope of the undulating chalk downlands. Visitors and locals revered the precipitous rocks as a natural wonder, their irregular shape often epitomized in literature and art, although Kell saw it as a challenge waiting to be conquered. He’d often flicked his eyes toward the constricted opening and clenched his fists to tamp down temptation. He held no doubt Nyx could maneuver through the jagged rocks unscathed, as slick as a key turns a lock. It was more a matter of when he’d choose to accomplish the task and revel in yet another fulfillment of the unimaginable. He’d know when it felt right and then he’d accomplish the same.

      “We can race wherever you like. Nyx knows the land well while your mount will be at disadvantage. Take a run along the cliffs if you prefer or eliminate all danger and keep to the vast flats. Nyx and I are game for any challenge.”

      “You regard your animal as if a relation.” Penwick eyed him with dubious interest.

      Kell couldn’t respond with the words that sprang to mind. He had no family. Not any legitimate sibling, although if bastards mattered he likely had a dozen. His horse served as his closest companion and the relationship worked well. Nyx was a confidant and loyal friend.

      “I hope to establish a relationship with my mount in the same regard,” Penwick continued, perhaps to fill the silence that had ensued.

      “And then with your lady.” Oliver couldn’t resist the jab. “Penwick is going about wife shopping as if he’s purchasing livestock. He asks for recommendations, pedigree information and then reviews the documents in his study while sipping expensive brandy.” He flashed a wide grin before he continued. “He has eliminated any thought of love and wants to focus solely on attributes and redeeming qualities, although no offer has been made. Is that right?”

      “None as of yet, no matter Oliver describes it as cold calculation.” Penwick’s objection rang across the room, a note of jovial amusement chasing his words. “My heart was given once, but it bears no consequence. There’s no need to pursue romance when my predicament is that I need to establish a foothold in society and produce an heir. It’s private and complicated. Nothing to discuss at the moment.”

      Kell pushed off the back of the wingchair where he’d leaned. “Society and heir-making. Two of my least favorite subjects.” His morose murmur hung in the silence for a while. “I’d rather ride. Let’s change our clothes, gentlemen, and get to it.” He didn’t wait for agreement, turning on his heel and exiting the room.

       Chapter Four

      Angelica dared a glance over her shoulder as she locked the cottage door and slipped the cord and key around her wrist. Midnight silence met her ears and she relished the tranquility of the evening. A cricket stopped its eager chirp as she neared, her skirts brushing against the low-lying boxwood hedges framing the slate walk. As if they regretted her departure, the hedges tugged on her gown to remind her that these late-night jaunts were perilous and foolish.

      Ever since her chance meeting this morning with the stranger on his horse, СКАЧАТЬ