Free A Most Scandalous Proposal by Ashlyn Macnamara Page A

of straw, his polished Hessians, intricately knotted cravat, and artfully tousled sand-colored hair looked rather out of place. The man might well fancy himself a dandy, but Benedict knew him to be a loyal friend in a pinch.
    “Since when have you got such an objection to horses?” Benedict asked.
    “I’ve none at all.” Upperton kicked himself away from the wall. “I like them just fine when they’re winning me bets. I just prefer not to commune with the creatures. If I’m to run my hands all over a female and murmur sweet nothings, I’d rather she be able to reciprocate.”
    Benedict cocked a brow. “When’s the last time a woman let you get that close?”
    Puffing himself up in mock outrage, Upperton stabbed a finger in Benedict’s direction. Benedict braced himselffor a verbal barrage that never came. Instead, Upperton let out a grunt, his gaze fixed somewhere past Benedict’s shoulder.
    A prickle of awareness caused the hairs at Benedict’s nape to stand on end, and he pivoted. Perfect, white teeth gleaming in a wide grin, William Ludlowe strode down the aisle.
    “I say there, isn’t this a lucky chance?”
    Benedict attempted to return the smile, but he feared he’d only succeeded in grimacing. Two encounters in as many days was hardly what he’d term lucky.
    Upperton pushed past him, jostling his shoulder with unnecessary force—a warning, no doubt.
    “Lucky indeed,” Upperton boomed. From several nearby stalls came the restless rustling of hay as their occupants shifted nervously. “Never thought you were much on cattle. What brings you here?”
    “I’m in the market for a bit of flash, you know. Something to befit my new station.”
    “Ah.” Upperton didn’t miss a beat.
    Benedict, on the other hand, gritted his teeth. His grimace must resemble a death mask, his face was so stiff.
    “Heard there was a fancy little bit on offer come Monday,” Ludlowe went on. “Wanted to come have a look for myself. Name of Neffer-titty.”
    “Nefertari,” Benedict grated.
    “That’s it.” Ludlowe stepped past Upperton. “Groom said she was somewhere around here.”
    Benedict shifted his weight until he blocked Ludlowe’s path. “You don’t want that one.”
    “Oh, I say!”
    Benedict inhaled: fresh hay, wood, leather, horse. Ordinarily, he found such scents soothing. Not today. Not now. Rather than point out the obvious, he settled for a gibe. “I didn’t think fashionable nobs rode about on mares.”
    Beyond Ludlowe’s shoulder, Upperton arched a brow. “Better listen to him, old man. When it comes to horseflesh, he knows what he’s about.”
    Ludlowe’s grin didn’t waver. Not a flicker. “Oh, I don’t want her for me.” He leaned closer, all manly confidentiality, as if he and Benedict were old school chums. “I’m in the market for a wife. Any bride of mine ought to ride in style.”
    Upperton broke into an explosive fit of coughing. Nefertari pinned her ears back and tossed her dainty head. Down the row, another horse kicked at his stall.
    Benedict balled his hands into fists, but he couldn’t let on what a complete and utter idiot Ludlowe was if he thought to win Julia over with a saddle horse. “You still don’t want this one. They retired her from racing because she broke down. She isn’t fit for much more than a sunny pasture and breeding.”
    Ludlowe tapped his chin with an immaculately manicured finger. “I suppose you would know a thing or two about horseflesh, wouldn’t you? Tell me, if you wished to surprise a lady with a really prime mount, what would you recommend?”
    Upperton’s coughing fit turned into a wheeze. His reddened cheeks darkened to crimson. Was he so childish as to laugh over an unintentional double entendre?
    “If you cannot rein in your juvenile sense of humor,” Benedict snapped, “would you mind stepping outside?”
    Upperton’s chest expanded as he drew in a lungful of air. With a series of splutters, he brought his breathing under