Free Lord Suitor by Raven McAllan Page B

boots back on and went to his horse. Thunderer nuzzled his pocket.
"Sorry, old son, I didn't come prepared."
    Cubby
whipped a carrot out of his pocket and fed it to the horse. Nat ran his hands
over the horse's hocks and withers to reassure himself all was fine.
    He
turned to Stomburn. "Where's the night ostlers?" The yard was
suspiciously empty. One would have thought the commotion would have brought the
ostlers running.
    The
landlord looked worried. "Are they not around?"
    "Nah."
Cubby shook his head. "No one, which is why I came down. I saw 'em going
off."
    "I
believe there is a cock fight inside Farmer Buddle's barn," Judd said.
    "I'll
cock fight them." Stomburn looked like thunder. "Now then, lad, what
made you come and keep watch?"
    Cubby
looked imploringly at Nat, who squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
    "Tell
him,” Nat said. "He will understand."
    "I
had a feeling. Not a bellyache, but an ache in my belly. When I's gets it, I
knows sommat is going on." Cubby dug his toes in between the cobbles.
"I just knew it was Thunderer. Not Silver, Thunderer." He shrugged. "It's
just well..." He stared up at Nat with entreaty in his eyes.
    Nat
smiled at him reassuringly. "You did well," Nat said. "I am in
your debt."
    Cubby
blushed. "Nah, it’s me job to watch ower 'em."
    "You've
a gift, lad. And one Lord Fenniston can be pleased about." The landlord
clapped him on the back. "Do you want a job?"
    Cubby
looked alarmed. "I's got one with m'lord." He tugged Nat's shirt.
"I do, don't I?"
    "You
do, lad. Now go and sleep."
    "But
Thunderer?" Cubby looked and sounded worried. "P'raps I best..."
    "Sleep.
Stomburn and I will look after him. I need you wide awake tomorrow, not yawning
over the reins."
    Cubby's
eyes widened. "Ohh er, yes M'lord."
    “You've
got a good un there," Stomburn said as Cubby dashed off.
    "I
know," Nat said somberly. "Now I need to make sure he stays a good
un."

Chapter Eight
     
    Tessa
threw her tambour frame at the wall and her slipper at the door. She was bored,
tired, out of sorts, and sick of the capital and its inhabitants.
    I want to go home. It has nothing to do with the fact that a certain gentleman is there. However,
deep down she was uneasily aware it could be. And not just one gentleman. Tessa
didn't think she'd ever been so mixed up in her life.
    Nat
intrigued her, it was true. But how could she even entertain the idea of marrying
him when her body, and more than half her mind, belonged to someone else? Someone
she hardly knew, except she pondered, in the biblical sense. Life was so
complicated.
    The
door of her sitting room opened, and Tessa looked up in surprise. Her room was
sacrosanct.
    Sybille
popped her head around the door. As ever, her shiny, blonde hair was perfectly
coiffed, and she looked composed and elegant. Tessa often compared her own less-than-immaculate
self with her sister and came off worse. But she was who and what she was and had
no intention of changing. Indeed she suspected it would be impossible.
    "Tell
me if I intrude," Sybille said as she shut the door behind her. "But
who were you swearing at before I heard a thump? And do I need to help you bury
the body?"
    Tessa
laughed reluctantly. "Well, I believe my tambour frame is past redemption,
so a decent burial might be a good idea. However, I'm blue-devilled, that's
all."
    Sybille
picked up the maligned item and twisted it this way and that. "I agree,
and your embroidery is in the same state. Why do you bother?" She dropped
the frame and its contents onto a ladder back chair and flopped down onto the chaise.
"You will never be an accomplished needlewoman." She tugged on
Tessa's hand. "Tessa, what's wrong?" Her blue eyes were cloudy with
worry. "You have lost all your eagerness, your zest for life. Is it Lord
Fenniston? Do you miss him so much?"
    Tessa
sank down next to her sister. Did she? She sighed. "I don't know, but I'm
going crazed in the capital. The balls have never appealed, the so-called gentlemen
even less. I crave