‘They’re my responsibility,’ she added unnecessarily, hearing the sharp tone of her voice.
Sir Chase’s soft laugh reached his eyes. ‘So they are, Miss Chester,’ he said as he reached the bottom of the steps. ‘Your groom and I have been saying the very same thing.’
‘They’ll need to be hosed down,’ she said, avoiding his eyes, ‘if you brought them back in the same state as the phaeton.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said, holding out his hand as she reached the bottom step.
Obliged to accept his courtesy, she felt the instant warm grip of his fingers and the unresisting strength of his arm that reminded her of what she’d heard of his legendary fencing skills, his boxing and horsemanship. She was also reminded of the enormous debt he had lured her brother into. If the tales that circulated about him were to be believed, this man was dangerous to both men and women.
She reached the cobbles, removing her hand from his without thanks. ‘You had them washed down?’ she said.
He appeared to find her question and manner amusing. ‘It’s one thing to return a carriage in a filthy state, Miss Chester, to show how it’s been misused, but quite another to leave horses like that. It took my grooms hours to get the muck off them last night. If I were you, I’d lock them up next time your brother comes to stay, or you may have a broken leg or two.’
‘Thank you for your advice,’ she replied, icily. ‘Next time my brother comes to stay, we shall probably lock him up, away from men who accept his childish wagers.’
‘Then you might also teach him how to be more accurate with the truth while you’re about it. It doesn’t help matters to spin yarns about one’s circumstances.’ He kept pace with her as she walked quickly towards the stable, his strides worth two of hers.
‘So you’ve never spun yarns about yours, Sir Chase?’
‘Never had any need to. Others might have, but not me. Shall we go and take a look?’ He stopped by the door, holding out an arm to usher her in.
This was not at all what she had intended, nor could she contain the feeling that Sir Chase had the knack of manoeuvring people into situations they would not have chosen for themselves. He had obviously done the same to her foolish brother.
Well lit by tall windows, the stable’s oak stalls were topped by black-painted grilles, each black post topped by a golden ball. Layers of straw muffled the stamps from a forest of legs, and glossy rumps shone like satin, swished by silken tails. The aroma of hay and leather warmed Caterina’s nostrils, and the occasional whicker of greeting combined with the scrunch of hay held in racks on the walls.
The two dapple-greys belonging to Lady Elyot were draped with pale grey rugs monogrammed in one corner, spotlessly clean, their charcoal manes rippling, hooves shining with oil. No effort had been spared to remedy the effects of their bruising drive last evening, yet Caterina withheld the thanks that were overdue.
Without comment, she went alongside the nearest horse, ducking under the cord that roped it off, peeping under the rug and stooping beneath its neck to return along the other side, patting the smooth back as she passed. ‘Good,’ she said, fanning the long tail.
‘It was the least I could do,’ he replied.
‘No, Sir Chase. The least you could do would be to spare my father the distress of having to find the money to pay my brother’s debt. Twenty thousand may be a trifling sum to you, but I can assure you that my father’s circumstances do not accord with the way it looks. He will not have told you how difficult his finances are at the moment. He’s too proud for that. But I’m not, sir. Believe me, he cannot afford it.’
‘By no means is it a trifling sum, Miss Chester. If it had been, I would not be taking the trouble to claim it. Apart from that, your feckless brother should be made to learn that a man does not walk away from a debt of honour without serious consequences. I would have preferred it if he had been hurt a little more. As it is, only his pride will suffer.’
‘As it is, sir, my father is the one to suffer. And me, too, I expect.’ Immediately, she wished she had not allowed him to push her into a snappy retort, for now she would be asked to explain what she meant by that.
‘You, Miss Chester? How does the debt affect you?’
‘Oh, indirectly,’ she waffled. ‘Nothing that need be spoken of. Indeed, I should not have said as much. Please, forget it.’ She began to move away, but Sir Chase’s long stride took him ahead of her and she was stopped by his arm resting on the next golden ball. Frowning, she scowled at the perfect white folds of his neckcloth, aware that this time she had backed herself into a corner.
‘I am intrigued,’ he said, looking down at her with those half-closed eyes that held more challenge than persuasion. ‘What is it about this business, exactly, that affects you personally? Are we talking of dowries?’
Her eyes blazed darkly in the shadowy recess, a small movement of her body telling him how she chafed at being held to account, unable to avoid a confrontation as she had before. ‘That is something I cannot discuss with you, sir. Indeed, it is a subject that will never be discussed with you, thank heaven.’
‘Ah, so we are talking of dowries, and of yours being lessened quite considerably if your father decides to use it to pay me what he owes. Well, that’s too bad, Miss Chester. How he chooses to pay—’
‘He doesn’t have a choice!’ she snarled. ‘Now let me pass, if you please. This conversation is most indelicate.’
‘Come on, woman!’ he scoffed. ‘Don’t tell me your delicate sensibilities are more important than your father’s so-called distress. I’ll not believe you can be so missish, after what I’ve seen. Talk about the problem, for pity’s sake.’
‘I cannot, Sir Chase. You are a stranger to me.’
‘I am the one to whom the money is owed,’ he said, leaning his head towards her, ‘so if you can’t discuss it with me, who can you discuss it with? Do you have need of your dowry in the near future?’
‘No. Not in the near or the distant future,’ she whispered. ‘There, now, you have your answer. Let me pass.’
He did not pretend to misunderstand her, nor did he immediately respond, but stood looking at her while the soft sounds of munching and the jingle of chains passed them by without recognition. Then he broke the silence. ‘Why not?’ he said, quietly.
With a noticeable effort to keep her voice level, she replied. ‘If my father and stepmother find it difficult to understand my reasons, Sir Chase, I can hardly expect you to do any better.’
‘Do you understand them?’ he whispered.
The staggering intake of her breath told him that he had found the weakness in her defence, and that she had no ready answer except a sob that wavered behind one hand. ‘Oh!’ she gasped.
The barrier of his arm dropped as she bounded away, half-walking, half-running out of the stable yard and up the steps leading to the garden door. It closed with a bang behind her. In the stable, Sir Chase leaned against one of the posts, his hand smoothing the dapple-grey coat beside him. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that makes an interesting change from the usual run of things, my beauty. How long have we got? Five months, is it?’
