Free A Rake's Vow by Stephanie Laurens

horse, he brought his chestnut alongside Vane’s grey. “I’ve been meaning to ask”—Gerrard’s eyes shone with enthusiasm as he looked into Vane’s face—“about those greys of yours.”
    A disturbance on her other side forced Patience to glance that way, so she missed Vane’s answer. His voice was so deep that, when he was facing away from her, she couldn’t discern his words.
    The disturbance proved to be Edmond, taking advantage of Penwick’s distraction with Henry to insinuate his horse between Penwick’s and Patience’s. “There!” Edmond blithely ignored Penwick’s outraged glare. “I’ve been waiting to ask your opinion of my latest verse. It’s for the scene where the abbot addresses the wandering brothers.”
    He proceeded to declaim the recent fruits of his brain.
    Patience gritted her teeth; she felt literally torn. Edmond would expect her to comment intelligently on his work, which he took with all the seriousness he failed to devote to more worldly matters. On the other hand, she desperately wanted to know what Vane was saying to Gerrard. While one part of her mind followed Edmond’s rhymes, she strained her ears to pick up Gerrard’s words.
    “So their chests are important?” he asked.
    Rumble, rumble, rumble.
    “Oh.” Gerrard paused. “Actually, I thought weight would give a fair indication.”
    A long series of rumbles answered that.
    “I see. So if they do have good stamina . . .”
    Patience glanced to her right—Gerrard was now closer to Vane. She couldn’t even hear his half of the conversation.
    “So!” Edmond drew in a breath. “What do you think?”
    Head snapping back, Patience met his eyes. “It didn’t hold my interest—perhaps it needs more polish?”
    “Oh.” Edmond was deflated, but not cast down. He frowned. “Actually, I think you might be right.”
    Patience ignored him, edging her mare nearer Vane’s grey. Vane glanced her way; both eyes and lips appeared gently amused. Patience ignored that, too, and concentrated on his words.
    “Assuming they’re up to the weight, the next most important criterion is their knees.”
    Knees ? Patience blinked.
    “High-steppers?” Gerrard suggested.
    Patience stiffened.
    “Not necessarily,” Vane replied. “A good action, certainly, but there must be power behind the stride.”
    They were still talking about carriage horses; Patience almost sighed with relief. She continued to listen, but heard nothing more sinister. Just horses. Not even wagering or the racecourses.
    Inwardly frowning, she settled back in her saddle. Her suspicions of Vane were well-founded, weren’t they? Or was she overreacting?
    “I’ll take my leave of you here.” Penwick’s acid declaration cut across Patience’s musing.
    “Indeed, sir.” She gave him her hand. “So kind of you to drop by. I’ll mention to my aunt that we saw you.”
    Penwick blinked. “Oh, yes—that is, I trust you’ll convey my regards to Lady Bellamy.”
    Patience smiled, coolly regal, and inclined her head. The gentlemen nodded; Vane’s nod held an element of menace—how he managed it, Patience couldn’t have said.
    Penwick wheeled his horse and cantered off.
    “Right then!” Free of Penwick’s trenchantly disapproving presence, Gerrard grinned. “How about a race back to the stables?”
    “You’re on.” Edmond gathered his reins. The lane to the stables lay on the other side of an open field. It was a straight run, with no fences or ditches to cause difficulty.
    Henry chuckled indulgently and flicked Patience a smile. “I suppose I’ll be in on it, too.”
    Gerrard looked at Vane.
    Who smiled. “I’ll give you a handicap—lead off.”
    Gerrard waited for no more. With a “Whoop!” he sprang his horse.
    Edmond made to give chase, as did Henry, but, as Patience tapped her heels to her mare’s sides, they moved off with her. Letting her mare have her head, Patience followed in her brother’s wake; Gerrard was forging ahead, unchallenged.