the use? She might as well be a prisoner, for all the say she held in her life. In spite of the active role she took in running the manor, she was required, like her mother, to obey her father, regardless of his foolhardy decisions.
Her thought went back to Wexton’s stallion. If the horse was suffering, then she wanted to help. Healing wounded beasts was her salvation, her greatest pleasure. While she remained at Havencrest, she’d focus only on the horse.
But what if Wexton’s mother, the dowager duchess, lived at Havencrest? She would consider Alicia a servant, a woman toiling with her hands. The dowager would consider Alicia’s work with animals proof that she wasn’t fit for Society.
Alicia swept her hand gently across the clumps of frilly, green leaves at her feet. The air was charged with mint, lemon verbena and scented geranium. She felt her anger change into practical determination. Maybe the dowager had remained in London instead of returning with her son to the country for the summer. Especially since the duke would be at Havencrest until his stallion improved. The idea gave her hope.
Alicia passively swatted a flowering stalk of comfrey, the cloud of yellow pollen dusting her skirts. But why should she care who would be at Havencrest? She hadn’t deserved to be banned from society, and she would face the dowager or anyone else if need be. But she wasn’t foolish enough to go looking for trouble.
A soft nicker, then a velvet nose snuggled against her ear. Startled, Alicia turned as Cinnamon Rose nibbled her neck. Despite her mood, she laughed. “Have you come to plead your master’s case, too?” Alicia asked, rubbing the mare’s satiny ear.
The horse tossed her head playfully. Indeed, the animal was magnificent. She pressed her cheek against the mare’s velvet neck. “You needn’t plead, pretty thing. I’ll help your friend.”
Alicia stood, still petting Cinnamon Rose’s reddish-gold neck, when she noticed Wexton leading a handsome curricle with a matched pair of white Lusitano horses from the livery building. She warily narrowed her gaze at him.
“Did your master put you up to finding me and giving me a kiss, Cinnamon Rose?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. Alicia grabbed the mare’s halter and strolled across the lawn to meet him.
The duke appeared not to notice her as he drove the carriage in her direction. When the rig came to within a short distance from where she stood, Wexton stopped the team, his face revealing no emotion. Instead of a last-minute appeal, which she had expected, Wexton remained silent as his gaze fixed with hers. Yet the effect of his mesmerizing scrutiny couldn’t have been more calamitous to her nerves. Shock waves from his beseeching blue eyes made her insides feel jittery and her knees weaken.
Alicia steeled herself. “I admire a well-trained horse, but to have one seek me out and give me a kiss shows your hand as a spectacular trainer.” Any chance that the trick was a coincidence was erased by the answering twinkle in Wexton’s eyes.
“I’ve reconsidered my decision to help your stallion, Bashshar,” Alicia said, hoping the statement sounded as though it was her idea. “You can expect me to arrive at Havencrest by the first of next week. I expect to have private quarters where I can isolate myself and Bashshar away from people. I refuse to be put up in the main house. I need nothing fancy, a suite prepared above the carriage house will do.” She met his attentive gaze. “Are there any questions concerning my terms?”
Wexton studied her with an interested look. “What changed your mind so quickly, may I ask?”
Alicia braced her shoulders. What changed her mind, indeed. No doubt he’d known that her family was purse-pinched, and her father would never allow her to back out of the chance to own such an expensive mare as Cinnamon Rose.
“I’m not doing this favor for you, your grace. I’m doing this for your stallion.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he said finally. “I’ll leave Cinnamon Rose here, at your stable. If you journey to Havencrest, regardless of your decision to remain and help my stallion, your kindness earns you the mare.”
“Take Cinnamon Rose with you. A finer animal I’ve never seen. Although my father is lord of the manor, he allows me to manage the few horses that make up our breeding stable. I’ll add to my horses quite nicely without any help from you.”
Dalton caught the mare’s line as she tossed it to him. He sat, dazed, while Alicia raised her head and swept across the lawn toward the manor, as proud as any English filly.
He felt as though he’d been properly put in his place, but what the hell had he done to deserve it? He rubbed his chin as he watched her stroll along the drive. Egad, he’d never met a more cantankerous wench. Were all the females in her father’s household as disagreeable and cranky as Alicia? If so, no wonder old man Spencer found comfort in the gin bottle.
Candlelight glowed from the massive, tiered chandeliers in the great salon of Havencrest. Ionic columns graced the second-floor balustrade where Dalton stood, gazing down upon the couples dancing quadrilles to the lilting music.
For the past week, Dalton had thought of nothing but this day, when Lady Alicia would arrive at Havencrest and finally meet Bashshar. The carpenters had been hammering day and night to finish the quarters Alicia had requested. If only she could cure Bashshar. His gut clenched again when he thought of the animal’s worsening anxiety. Was he selfish to try to keep Bashshar alive?
His gaze swept the faces of his mother’s guests for the week-long country party. How he detested these boring affairs. If he hadn’t expected Lady Alicia today, he would be long gone, buried with work, overseeing the fields, anywhere as long as he was away from his mother and the trappings of Society.
“Dalton, I beg your attention.”
He turned to see his sister Olivia, her lovely face pinched with concern. “Sister, have you found out what I asked you concerning Lady Alicia?”
“Not yet, but I expect Great-Aunt Mary will know. I expect her any time now.” She grinned. “I must say, Dalton, from what you’ve told me about Lady Alicia, I’m as curious to find out about her background as you are.”
Dalton nodded. “Then what serious business drives you from the arm of your devoted Robert?”
Olivia’s blue eyes sparkled with pleasure at the mention of her husband. “There’s a fuss going on downstairs. The butler is extremely upset and insists that only you can remedy the situation.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he said with a smile. He knew his sister understood that he would rather be alone with the horses than playing host to the ton.
“Dalton, I’ve seen so little of you this past week. Are you purposely avoiding your family?” She smiled mischievously. “Or are you trying to avoid Elizabeth?”
Olivia was teasing, he knew. She couldn’t keep her face straight as she gazed down at the black-and-white marble dance floor to the slender blond woman, who appeared to be flirting outrageously while dancing with a viscount. Olivia held on to her brother’s sleeve, showing no intention to let go until he answered her.
“I’ve not avoided anyone deliberately,” Dalton said, watching the blonde blush becomingly as several young men joined the growing circle of admirers. Elizabeth had been engaged to his younger brother, Drake, and after his death, the dowager duchess and Elizabeth had presumed she would eventually marry Dalton, something he had never encouraged. He liked Elizabeth, but only as a man cares for a younger sister. She was a graceful little
