Free The Duke's Disaster (R) by Grace Burrowes Page A

name is Heart’s Delight, though the lads call her Della.”
    At the sound of her name, the mare gave up her hay and came to hang her head over the half door. Big brown eyes peered at them with a combination of reserve and curiosity that put Noah in mind of his wife. The selfsame wife who just hours before had shyly let her tongue—
    “She’s not without spirit, but I found her quite sensible too,” Noah said. The mare had also already dropped a foal, a handsome colt.
    “She’s lovely.” Thea turned to him, her gaze so warm Noah nearly forgot to breathe, and then she stepped closer, and he could not divine her intent until she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard.
    Not a seductive embrace, a long, tight hug.
    Noah might have been about to hug her back when she stepped away and ran her fingers softly over the mare’s jaw. Rather than watch that and suffer the resulting torments—what was wrong with him this morning?—Noah marched off, leaving the ladies to get acquainted while he bellowed for grooms and tack, and where in the hell was everybody this morning?
    This was just another morning, after all.
    His wife, however, was not just another lady in a faded habit perched on a horse for display. Thea rode with the natural seat of one who’d taken to the saddle early and often, and she delighted in her mare, the both of them game for any log, ditch, stream, or bank Noah led them over.
    Who would have thought?
    “You are a hoyden,” he concluded. “The pair of you are hoydens, and what am I to do with you? Troubadour and I will never hack out in peace again.”
    “Troubadour has been a perfect gentleman,” Thea said, her smile careless and quietly stunning as she patted her mare. “I cannot thank you enough for Della, Your Grace. She is perfect, and had I chosen a gift myself, I could not have picked out anything lovelier or more appreciated. I humbly and sincerely thank you.”
    Damn. Noah did not want Thea’s thanks, he wanted her , and her smiles and pats and teasing.
    Which would not do. “Race you to the end of the field.”
    He waited one gentlemanly heartbeat for Thea to tap her heel against the mare’s side, then let True bound after them, holding back until the last minute so the finish was honestly in question.
    “You let me win!” she accused breathlessly. “I know your scheme, Anselm. You’re bent on destroying my coiffure, and it’s not very subtle of you.”
    Her braid had indeed come free of its pins to hang in a shiny sable rope over her shoulder.
    “We’ll not be racing anymore with you in such disarray,” Noah said. “Besides, the horses have to walk out, and our outdoor staff requires introductions forthwith.” He turned his big gelding to amble along beside her mare. “What do you think of this little holding?”
    “Little?” Thea blew a strand of hair off her forehead. “Wellspring must be several thousand acres, with the tenant farms, the home farms, and the woods.”
    Noah gave his horse, who was still puffing, a loose rein. True had endured months of Town life prior to this remove to Kent and was in want of conditioning.
    “Wellspring is small,” Noah said, “but I like it. My mother was fond of this place too, and I have good memories of summers spent here as a boy. By mutual consent, my parents never opened this estate for house parties or shooting parties or the like.”
    A shadow crossed Thea’s face as she took up the reins. “A refuge, then. We all need a place of refuge.”
    She had needed a place of refuge, else she might not be married to Noah—lowering thought.
    “We can change before you review the troops,” he said, “or we can greet them in riding attire. They’ll be assembled outside.”
    “How many?”
    What did that matter? “Two dozen or so, I should think. It’s summer, so more people are about than in winter.”
    “We’ll stay here for haying?”
    “That depends.” True minced around a puddle, an affectation he’d never