in her smile, but their current arrangement was unsatisfactory. Finding odd ways to meet and conducting their affair away from prying eyes was sensible, but he wanted to spend more time with her. He tried to tell himself that it was purely physical and, once they spent time together, he’d start to see her faults. He’d become bored or she’d become demanding. Right now the key to that was finding a suitable horse.
‘We will find the proper horse for you today. Traipsing all over Northumberland is not going to happen. There will be more suitable horses over here.’
‘Kit?’ Hattie said, confused. Kit’s mood had suddenly changed. He had to understand that the horse needed to be her choice, not his. He didn’t answer, but continued to walk away from her.
She hurried after him. ‘Where do you think you are going?’
A scrawny boy in rags leading a chestnut horse caused him to draw up and she caught up with him. His face appeared very serious.
‘What is the problem?’
‘I spied Mr Dent and wasn’t sure if you wanted to be seen with me.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. He was considerate. ‘Mrs Hampstead is sitting with a cup of tea and Harvey, my groom, is about ten paces behind. Everything is above board. I did think about that eventuality. Wherever you go in the Tyne Valley, you are sure to run into someone you know.’
‘What about the grey?’ He pointed towards where a large placid horse stood.
Hattie peered more closely at the ragged boy and then the chestnut horse shook her head and she knew. She knew precisely what Kit meant by looking for the little things. ‘I want the chestnut unless you have an objection?’
‘The chestnut? But that one is a bit more spirited than I would like.’ He put his hand under her elbow. ‘You might like to take another look at the grey. I think the chestnut may have been mistreated.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you say that?’
He nodded towards the boy who soothed the horse with his hand. The horse calmed instantly. ‘Instinct.’
‘But horses recover from ill treatment.’
‘Some better than others.’ He nodded. ‘It takes time and patience. The boy has a way with horses that most people can only dream about. All you have to do is watch him and see how he moves.’
Hattie’s heart constricted at the sight of the boy’s pinched face and the way his ragged clothes hung off his frame. ‘Oh, Kit. He looks half-starved. Can you do anything? We ought to buy him a pie.’
She fumbled in her reticule.
‘I was willing to buy the horse for you. The boy is another matter.’
‘Buy the boy?’ She stared at him in astonishment.
‘Is this Sir Christopher Foxton, the man who does not get involved, talking?’
‘It will take more than a pie to cure him. He needs a chance.’
‘I want the chestnut, Kit, and I am paying. Sometimes you just know deep within your gut that a horse is right.’ She glanced up at him. ‘A pie is better than nothing. And he will have made a sale.’
‘Shall we put the horse through its paces then? First things first, Harriet. The horse, and then we’ll see about the boy.’
Kit signalled to the boy, who brought the horse over. Kit ran his hands over the horse’s legs, examining every inch and talking to it softly. The way he moved over the horse reminded Hattie of how his hands touched her when they were making love, never unhurried or rough, but gentle and firm. The boy answered all his questions, becoming more animated as he realised that Kit actually cared about the horses.
‘She will do,’ he said finally.
Hattie let out her breath. ‘Thank you.’
Kit spoke quietly to the lad, who raced back to his master.
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That you were a lady and interested in buying the horse for a fair price, rather than haggling. I know you will pay the price, but for once, Hattie, let me do the speaking.’
A rather overbearing farmer approached with quick footsteps and a greedy eye, and the bargaining began. Hattie was pleased that Kit took control and extracted a far better price than she thought possible. His eyes shone and she could tell that he was enjoying the process, whereas she would have been tempted to pay the first price.
‘And now I will have the boy get us something to wet our whistles,’ the farmer said, rubbing his hands together. ‘You and your lady can surely spare the time to do that.’
‘I am not his lady,’ Hattie stiffly. ‘We are merely …’
‘Neighbours,’ Kit supplied.
The farmer nodded as if he understood.
‘Your boy?’ Hattie asked as the lad ran off.
‘The bastard son of my housemaid. His mam died when he were whelped and I have done my Christian duty by him.’
When the boy came back, he stumbled and spilled the tankard of ale. Hattie stifled a gasp as the man clouted him around the ear. Kit strode to the man and caught his wrist, preventing him from delivering the second blow.
‘I don’t think you want to do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Mrs Wilkinson has just purchased that horse, but I want the boy. He has a way of gentling horses. It can’t be taught, but it can be cultivated.’
The farmer frowned. ‘He is mine, but good for nothing. Eats too much. Rarely minds.’
‘Send him to Southview Lodge near Stagshaw. I will pay you twice the price of the horse.’ Kit ignored Hattie’s sudden indrawn breath. ‘Better still, I will take him now. I can use a boy like that in my stables. It is an honest trade.’
The man held out a dirty hand. ‘I ken a deal when I see it. John, you be a good lad to his lordship.’
Kit knelt down and looked the ragged boy square in the eyes. ‘If you work hard, and are honest, I will promise not to beat you and to ensure you are taught an honest trade.’
The boy beamed back at him. Kit felt as if the world had lit up. ‘Aye, that would be good, your lordship.’
‘Take the horse, then. You see her back to this lady’s house and get her settled, but you will be in my stables.’
‘You will need the strap on him. He is a wilful lad.’
Kit turned towards the man and gave him an ice-cold stare. ‘I sincerely doubt it.’
‘You were magnificent, Kit,’ Hattie breathed as they walked back to the carriage with Mrs Hampstead trailing behind, holding the boy’s hand.
‘Most women of my acquaintance
