Free Charlotte Louise Dolan by Three Lords for Lady Anne Page A

his feet and rushing to her side. “Allow me to assist you in unsaddling your horse,” he said hurriedly, reaching for the cinch.
    “No, no, I am quite capable of fending for myself. Please return to your other job.”
    He hesitated, as if uncertain how to proceed.
    “Now,” she ordered coldly, and he walked back across the yard, throwing her a look that was openly angry.
    The saddle, when she removed it, seemed to be in perfect condition, as did the cinch. Instead of pulling off the saddle blanket, however, she merely flipped it over on the horse’s back. Stuck to the underside of it was a short section of cane from a bramble bush.
    “Oh, I say, Tony, you didn’t—”
    “Course I didn’t, Drew. That’s a childish prank.”
    “Right. Then who did? You there, Harry,” the Marquess of Wylington called imperiously. “Who saddled this horse today?”
    “I couldn’t rightly say, m’lord,” the groom replied. “I was too busy with my own work to notice.”
    The three stable boys became totally preoccupied with their work.
    “Well someone has tried to play a vicious trick on a lady—”
    “Intending to hurt her. And whoever that person is, he is mean—”
    “And malicious—”
    “And a rotten coward, who deserves a beating.”
    No one in the stable yard moved a muscle.
    Finally Anne said quietly, “I believe I might as well wait until another day to ride bareback.” Removing the thorny branch from the blanket, she saddled her horse again, mounted it without assistance, and led the way out of the stable yard.
    * * * *
    Confound it, did that overgrown female have eyes in the back of her head? How could she have known about the thorns? More than likely she had bribed someone in the stables to spy for her. In disgust at the failure of his grand plan, Harry threw down the cloth he had been using and carried the bridle into the tack room and hung it up.
    Well, she might have caught on to his trick today, but there would be other days. She could not always be on her guard.
    Emerging from the tack room, he stopped abruptly in his tracks. All the grooms and stable boys employed on the estate were gathered in a semicircle around him.
    “We know who saddled Miss Hemsworth’s horse today,” said Patrick, the groom with the most seniority.
    “So, what if I did?” Harry knew he could brazen his way out of this tight spot the way he had always done.
    “It was a mean thing to do,” one of the youngest stable boys spoke up.
    “Don’t talk that way to your betters, you sniveling little brat. No one cares what your opinion is.”
    One of the other grooms spoke up. “Well, you see, Harry, we’ve decided Joe here can talk to you any way he likes, because he ain’t a coward—”
    “And you is,” Patrick finished. “And like his lordship just said, cowards deserve to be beaten.”
    “When pigs fly!” Harry felt the sweat run down his back, but he kept up his show of bravado.
    Muggs, the strongest and normally the most even-tempered of the grooms, moved forward. “And we’ve decided to give you what you deserve.”
    Abandoning all pretense of bravery, Harry turned his back and scrabbled desperately for the handle to the tack room door. He found it too late.
    One broken nose, two black eyes, three loose teeth, and four bruised ribs later, Harry agreed that he would never again make the slightest attempt to harm Miss Hemsworth or in any way be less than respectful to her.
    He was quite sincere and meant every word of his promise. He was not, after all, completely stupid.
    * * * *
    Fifty-five thousand pounds, and what did he have to show for it? A few new clothes on his back and not enough brass left in his pocket to afford to travel post. Creighton Trussell, having been forced to ride for hours elbow-to-elbow with his own valet, and in the company of a fat farmer and his even fatter wife, a clergyman, and a motherly woman who kept smiling at him, scowled out the window of the stage and cursed his own