Free Man of My Dreams by Johanna Lindsey

disgruntled opinion. “Did you fix the door latch?”
    “Right ’n’ tight. Some rugs will be delivered later today.”
    “No carpeting available?”
    “Not in Teadale.”
    Devlin sighed, feeling extremely put-upon. It’ll do you a world of good , Duchy had assured him. Might even teach you some humility, which you’re sadly lacking, dear boy . Duchy hadn’t seen the squire’s stable, however, which had been uninhabited by human occupants for a goodly number of years. Even Timmy would rather go home each night to his mother’s over crowded cottage than sleep in one of the two small rooms that had once been used by stable grooms, but were now used only for storage. Devlin had found it incredible that a man of the squire’s consequence had no more than one stableboy, and only four horses.
    “Some paint on these bare walls would be appreciated,” Devlin said. “ Not pink.”
    “You’ll have to sleep with the smell,” Mortimer warned.
    “I’m sleeping in a bloody stable,” Devlin replied pointedly.
    Mortimer chuckled. “You’re right. One more noxious odor won’t make much difference.”
    Devlin saw nothing humorous about it. He had a mind to throw caution to the wind and abide at the inn with Mortimer, but Duchy’s warning to stay out of public houses was still prominent in his mind. When the devil was he going to learn how to say no to Duchy?
    “I will need more shirts,” Devlin said, looking down in disgust at a white sleeve that was already stained. “At least a dozen.”
    “Didn’t I warn you gentleman’s white didn’t belong in a stable?”
    “Just send for them, Mr. Browne, and whileyou’re at it, find out if there are any available women in the area.”
    “Available for what?” Mortimer asked in all innocence, but at Devlin’s pointed stare, he said, “Oh,” then, “Now see here, I ain’t no—”
    “Spare me the dramatics, Mr. Browne, or I’ll—”
    “Have to suffer along with the rest of us.”
    Devlin cocked a brow. “Struck out, did you?”
    “This is a nice, quiet neighborhood. If a bloke wants a tumble around here, he has to marry to get it.”
    “Not even a tavern wench?” Devlin asked incredulously.
    “Not even a tavern other than the taproom at the inn,” Mortimer was delighted to say.
    “What do I have to do, ride to London?”
    “You don’t dare show yourself there unless you’re ready for that duel.” Devlin merely glowered, so Mortimer offered, keeping the grin from his lips, “I hear tell there’s a nice pond near here.”
    “I’m already acquainted with that bloody pond,” Devlin snapped.
    But now an image of Megan mounted on her Sir Ambrose came potently to his mind, thanks to the mention of his morning dunking in icy water. Sir Ambrose , for God’s sake.
    His urge had been to ride after her to make sure she didn’t get hurt on such a spirited animal, but common sense said if she’d had the animal as long as she’d claimed, then shecould ride it well enough. Common sense had little to do with the urge to follow her, however.
    “Add a case of brandy to my order,” Devlin said now in disgruntlement, then asked, “Not even one fallen dove in the whole area?”
    “Not a one.”
    “Make that two cases of brandy.”
     
    Megan almost avoided the high meadow today, considering her bad mood. It was where Tiffany would meet her several mornings a week, to join her for her morning ride. Tiffany wasn’t as enthusiastic about riding as Megan was, though she was accomplished enough, and she didn’t come out every morning.
    The girls had no plans to meet today. Tiffany was spontaneous about when she would show up, so Megan always included, in her daily jaunt the high meadow that lay between their respective homes, just in case.
    Tiffany was already there when Megan entered the meadow, which was unusual, since Megan was early herself, her own schedule having been moved up in her haste to vacate the stable.
    “It must be cleaning day to get you out of