Free The Grace of a Duke by Linda Rae Sande

into the side of his horse and ridden halfway back to London before his horse refused to go on. Eager to collect his earnings from his employer, a gentleman he’d seen at several gaming hells over the years, he completed the trip to London the following morning.
    The meeting had been perfunctory. Nicholas Bingham warned him that no one could know what occurred, and that if anyone were to hear of the incident in London, it was to be attributed to a severe lightning strike. McFarland readily agreed, pocketing the heavy purse and leaving his employer’s small townhouse on Golden Square. He had the wherewithal to change his attire at his small apartment near Covent Gardens before making his way to a pub for an ale or two. Then he would head to his favorite gaming hell. He didn’t consider that he really should bathe if he had any hope of winning over the pretty faro dealer he planned to see.
    Or that he might be a bit late in his pursuit of her.
    Perhaps, when Miss Jane Wethersby saw the size of his purse, she would seriously consider his offer. He rather fancied the faro dealer – had for many years, in fact – and thought he had as much chance at gaining her favors as any of the other gamblers who thought her a good catch. Not for marriage, of course, but didn’t every hard working man deserve a pretty mistress?

Chapter 7
    His Grace and Lady Charlotte Go Riding
    Joshua watched as Charlotte regarded the horse he’d chosen for her. The bay wasn’t large, nor was he particularly fast, but Joshua’s concern was how long it had been since anyone had ridden the horse. He wondered if it might have been his sister’s. A twinge gripped him as he remembered the young girl. Long blond curls, skinny and tall and barely fifteen when she died ... in my arms . She’d been full of life, the spitting image of her mother and as stubborn as her, according to his father. And the duke and duchess had just arranged her marriage to an earl from one of the middle counties when their lives were all cut short.
    “What is he called?” Charlotte wondered as she approached the horse from the front and reached up with a gloved hand to stroke the bay’s forehead. The horse knickered and leaned into her hand. Her attention back on the horse, she began whispering.
    Joshua let out the breath he’d been holding while wondering how the horse would react to Charlotte. His own mount was content to stand perfectly still while they waited. It wasn’t as if Charlotte had taken too long to get ready for the morning ride; the woman was quite punctual, in fact. But a side saddle had to be found and secured on the bay. Now they were just waiting for a groom to bring the steps that would allow Charlotte to mount her horse. Joshua thought briefly of dismounting and simply lifting her up to the saddle himself, but the thought that his wounded shoulder might not hold up while lifting her above shoulder-height gave him pause. He’d been able to lift her the night before because he’d kept her low and against his body. “I think my sister called him ‘Blackie’,” Joshua replied, almost embarrassed by the name Jennifer had bestowed on the poor horse.
    A giggle escaped Charlotte as she climbed the steps and settled into the saddle, her dark green riding habit and matching bonnet a perfect complement to the color of her horse. “It appears ‘Brownie’ would be a more appropriate name now,” she replied as she took the reins from the groom and thanked him. She made a couple of experimental moves, the horse following her commands as expected before the two moved alongside Joshua and his jet black stallion.
    “Indeed, and I doubt he would mind much if you did rename him,” Joshua said, his lips curling up. The left side of his face was covered by the leather mask, its ties secured around the top of his head and around his neck. His top hat, a low-profile version, had a brim that kept most of his face in shadow. Charlotte thought he looked quite smart in