disappeared down the aisle, shouting for two of the grooms.
Justin lingered to address Neville. “The dogs aren’t with you?”
“They’re in the kitchen b-by the fire.” The Cook, Mrs. Whitlock, had given them each a bone. Earlier, when Neville had left, Bertie had looked up from his, but he hadn’t followed. Some dogs did better in a pack, and the little pug was one of them. He was beginning to take his cues from Paul and Jonesy.
“Good thing,” Justin said. “It’s vile out here.”
“Less than it was.”
“True. Miss Hartwright was wise to leave when she did. Lord knows what state the road might have been in if the storm hadn’t passed.”
Neville focused on brushing Adventurer. Tried to focus. “She’ll…have arrived by n-now.”
“I expect she has. And I’m sure she’s fine. Which is just what I’ve been telling Teddy. Ladies are remarkably efficient these days.”
Neville’s gaze shot to Justin’s. “What has Teddy to do with it?”
“I suppose he fancies her. The two of them did spend time together, drawing and painting, and such. And they’ll have more time together still when Teddy and Mrs. Bainbridge return to Surrey.”
Jealousy ignited in Neville’s veins. A smoldering bitterness, as potent as liquid poison.
Foolish.
Teddy was just a lad. Hardly a rival. Clara had scarcely mentioned him at all. And yet…
She’d seemed to enjoy his company. Who wouldn’t? He was mentally quick and agile. Always ready with a sharp retort or a wryly humorous remark. More than that, he looked intelligent. There was something in his eyes. In his expression. Something Neville knew he didn’t possess.
And now—when Teddy returned to Surrey—he’d have Clara all to himself. She’d be there to look at. To talk to. With her gentle ways, and her sweet orange-blossom scent.
“He d-didn’t want her to go?”
“He hasn’t said so. But he’s worried about her being alone in Cambridge.” Justin’s mouth curved in a brief, wry smile. “I blame Helena and Jenny. They mentioned how rowdy Giles and his friends used to get at university. Made them sound like a right pack of savages.”
Neville’s hand stilled on the brush. His heart beat hard. Lady Helena, of all people, would comprehend what went on at university. She was the only one of their ranks to have had family who attended. Her brother and father, and every other aristocratic male relative going back for hundreds of years. “What…what did they…”
“Drinking, pranks, and the like. You know how it is with young men.” Justin didn’t appear at all concerned. “I saw those ponies of yours this morning. They’re looking well.”
Neville marshaled his thoughts. It was near impossible to do so when an image of Clara alone in Cambridge amid a pack of roving, inebriated males kept creeping into his mind. “Betty still favors her leg. But she’s…improving.”
“And the foal?”
“He’d like to run.”
Justin’s expression was thoughtful. “Tom mentioned you were contemplating returning them to Dartmoor.”
Neville resumed brushing. “I’m thinking about it.”
“You realize, of course, that that’s no guarantee someone wouldn’t catch them again, and take them back to the horse sales.”
“I know that.” It was the very reason Neville hadn’t made a decision yet.
None of the options for Betty’s future were good ones. He began to fear he’d have little choice but to break her to harness. Such a thing wasn’t unheard of. Miners often used the Dartmoor ponies for cart work. They were a strong and surefooted breed.
But Neville was reluctant to force such a life on Betty. She belonged with others of her kind, running free on the moors. Not hauling coal or pulling a child’s cart.
“I haven’t m-made a decision yet. I’m…” Neville shook his head. “It’s t-too soon.”
“And what about this one?” Justin came up behind Adventurer, laying a reassuring hand on his rump. “How’s he getting on?”
“He’s restive.”
“Aren’t we all?” Justin stepped back, allowing Neville room to continue brushing. “You should give him a good gallop on the beach. It always serves to blow the cobwebs off of Hiran.”