Ten Days with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #11) - Erica Ridley Page 0,7
for a glass of sherry and a round of cards, not about to stomp through a farm to inspect the stables.
“Washing dishes?” she said, as if there could be no greater offense. “Don’t think for a moment that your false kindnesses to my father will sway my opinions of you in the least.”
So far, so splendid.
Eli dried his hands on a cloth and tried to think of what to say. Any attempt to explain that he hadn’t been toadeating in hopes of recognition would be met with disbelief at best.
Mr. Harper made rapid hand gestures to his daughter.
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. “He says he told you not to bother with the dishes, and it’s not his fault you don’t understand sign language.”
“Is there no maid?” Eli asked, and wished he hadn’t. The indelicate question would win him no favor.
“There are three,” she replied after she’d interpreted. “Plus two footmen and a half dozen stable hands.”
Eli glanced around dubiously.
She took pity on him. “We always give them the week of Christmas to be with their own families. Papa and I are not so helpless that we cannot manage ourselves for a few days, and besides, we rather like the reminder that we can always rely on one another.”
That... was... a wonderful sentiment, which would never in a hundred years occur to the Marquess of Milbotham, much less appeal to him if someone else were to make the suggestion.
Eli respected and admired the Harpers’ obvious shared love. He might also be the tiniest bit envious.
Mr. Harper gestured again.
“Papa wants to know if you’re excited to meet our horses.” Miss Harper cocked her eyebrows expectantly, as if the answer to this question was an obvious and foregone conclusion.
“Er,” said Eli. How could he answer without lying? “I’ve heard so much about them.”
Her eyes sparkled. She exchanged brief signs with her father before turning back to Eli. “Whatever you’ve heard is only the beginning.”
Yes. Precisely what Eli was afraid of.
As the son of the man who owned the largest, most celebrated horse farm in the southern half of England, one might presume Eli lived and breathed horses.
One would be wrong.
His knowledge of the beasts was more theoretical than practical. Oh, he’d tried, for all of the good it did him. As a child, he’d been thrown from the back of a horse more often than he’d remained seated.
Even back then, Eli would rather have been left alone with his books.
“What do you do when you’re not with your horses?” he asked.
Surely, he and Miss Harper could find some common ground.
She stared at him as though he’d sprouted a shaggy mane and plaited tail. “What is... ‘not with my horses?’”
Stiff upper lip. He smiled as if the question had been in jest.
“Well?” She crossed her arms. “Go and put on your riding clothes.”
What is... riding clothes?
“I thought I would observe today,” he said. “There’s no reason to rush matters.”
No reason except ten short days to win Miss Harper’s approval.
“Very well.” She dipped her hand into a bucket and withdrew a handful of carrots. “Follow me.”
God help him. So it began.
Horses were her heaven and his hell, but Miss Harper was clearly upholding her half of the ten-day bargain. Eli’s thoughts on the validity of the bargain notwithstanding.
He filled his pockets with carrot bits and followed her out into the cold.
Everything was covered with a fine layer of snow. The only hints of color were the hills of evergreens, sparkling as the sun made their frost-tipped needles glisten.
It was a far cry from Eli’s usual days spent in Chelsea Physic Garden and the lush surrounding nurseries. Cressmouth in the dead of winter was not where a botanist would choose to take a holiday.
Frozen blades of grass crackled beneath their boots as they set a path toward the stables.
Normally, Eli’s heart would be pounding alarmingly—and it was—but, this time, not solely due to his increasing proximity to horseflesh.
Miss Harper’s curves were not the least bit hidden in her soft, supple buckskins. Her tall form and muscular legs were displayed to full advantage. The swing of her hips made the effect very feminine indeed.
It almost made him forget where they were headed.
Eli swallowed hard. He had bigger imminent concerns than whether he’d eventually win Miss Harper’s approval.
First came Duke.
Duke was not just a champion stud horse. He was the horse. Everyone wanted him. No one but Miss Harper could even get close.
On this topic, Duke and Eli were of one mind.
Eli preferred not to get