Chapter Two
Two days later, Arthur sent word to the stables to have Midnight saddled.
Today, once he finished the last of his correspondence, he was going to ride to nearby estates and see if he could find the owner of the gray who wandered onto his property or was ridden like there they were being chased by a gang of thieves.
The recklessness needed to stop. If the rider was so determined to race their mount so fast, they could do it on their own land, not his.
He intended on having the matter settled today.
He knew the gray couldn’t live too far off. He would start with two estates that were close by. Perhaps he’d get lucky and find both the horse and its owner in the vicinity.
A short time later, Arthur found himself walking down his drive and onto the main road.
Besides Graham’s estate, there were two others whose entrances were nearby.
He continued walking his horse down the road until he finally came on the country estate of Baron Heathcliff.
Arthur was certain he wouldn’t find the gray here.
The baron kept a small stable and most of his horses were dark bay with black stockings.
His carriage horses had no other markings.
The man was also older and a widower whose children were grown with families of their own. They resided elsewhere.
Still, he would check with Heathcliff in case perhaps he’d seen the gray with or without its rider. He couldn’t leave any stone unturned, and if the baron didn’t know the gray’s reputation, it would make him aware of the situation.
As Arthur began to ride down the baron’s drive, he noted an older gentleman on horseback approaching him. It was Heathcliff himself. He had a stableboy with him who rode behind.
“Your Grace, this is indeed an honor,” Heathcliff said, tipping his hat. “I was just finishing up my morning ride.”
“I won’t keep you long, milord. I’ll get straight to the point. Have you either seen a gray horse wandering about or that same gray with a rider and galloping the horse as fast as they can go?”
“Can’t say I have, and my stablemaster would tell me straight up if someone were riding without permission.”
“Be on the lookout just in case they do wander onto your land.”
“I shall, and thank you for the information, Your Grace,” Heathcliff said. “Have you time for luncheon?”
Arthur scrubbed his gloved hand over his face. “Thank you for the invitation, milord. Another time? I am determined to try and find this horse and its owner today, and I have a couple more estates to call on.”
“I understand. Another time.”
Turning his stallion, Arthur began to walk away.
He made a note to invite the baron for lunch, hating that he had to turn down his invitation.
He knew if he’d stayed for a meal, he might not have continued on his mission of finding the errant horse.
Too often people neglected their neighbors while in the country, and he would make a point of not being one of those.
Besides, he’d heard the baron had an impressive collection of swords from all over the world from his travels.
He walked onto the main road and continued down until he came upon the estate of Harry Winterton, Viscount Andover.
The viscount was known for being eccentric as his elaborate fencing and drive indicated.
It reminded Arthur of Versailles. Not that he’d ever been inside the elaborate palace, but he had ridden by it once and seen its decadence.
Starting down the crushed shell drive, Arthur was soon met with a massive and over the top iron gate.
The gate was closed and appeared locked and inaccessible.
He peered through the gate, but neither the house nor any other structure came into view.
He started to turn Midnight around and back to the main road.
Obviously, the viscount was not in residence.
He smiled, observing the road leading to the manor was not wide enough to turn a carriage around and with just enough space to get his stallion turned.
As he headed in the direction of his own estate, he dropped Midnight’s reins to allow the horse to stretch his neck.
He was disappointed about failing in his search.
The two estates he’d visited were the closest, and he couldn’t imagine a horse who’d escaped his pasture would wander far. That’s what made this so frustrating.
No one seemed to know the viscount and his family well. While his wife preferred to spend the summer at their estate in Somerset with their children, he traveled between the two estates and their house in Mayfair. They were known among the ton and were quite social during the season.
The viscount’s family owned two factories in the north which took raw cotton and, using looms, turned it into fabric. It was thankless, backbreaking work, but they had been able to turn them into the largest and most profitable factories in England.
Arthur peered up at the sky and saw storm clouds beginning to set in.
Gathering up Midnight’s reins, he urged the stallion into a fast trot.
Turning down the drive to home, he broke the animal into a canter for fear the rain wasn’t going to hold off much longer.
Making it to the front of the house, he was met by a young boy who took the stallion’s reins from him and began to lead him toward the stables.
The house was quiet as he entered. He placed his hat and gloves on a table and began to walk toward his study.
The door was open, and he found Roddy curled up in front of the hearth waiting on his return.
Lowering himself to the dog’s line of sight, he patted the red setter for several minutes.
Looking towards his desk, Arthur noted correspondence sitting on the desk he hadn’t seen before.
He rose and walked over to his desk and sat behind it while Roddy’s tail thumped against a chair.
He thumbed through the four pieces of correspondence.
Nothing out of the usual, but one stood out; an invitation from his sister Roxanne to a house party she and Hawksbury were hosting in a fortnight.
This would be her first official social event since marrying his friend.
Being that he lived so close, Arthur wouldn’t have to stay the entire time.
He could come and go as he pleased, though he was sure his sister would have his time monopolized.
There would be single women there with their mothers on the chance he might find one to his liking.
Roxanne was all about finding him an appropriate bride.
He wasn’t opposed to finding a wife; he simply wanted to do it on his own terms. If his sister happened to invite the one, he would pursue her.
Arthur set the invitation aside, knowing he’d accept, but writing his reply could wait.
While Roxanne expected everyone to follow social etiquette, his not replying in a timely manner would drive her mad.
He smiled as he imagined her stomping her foot at his tardiness.
She would scold him for being late with his reply, but even after all these years, Arthur loved to tease her.
Returning to the small pile of unopened missives, he opened each one and read them.
Fortunately, none of them were terribly urgent and could wait until the next day.
He couldn’t concentrate as his thoughts kept going back to earlier in the day as he tried and failed to find the gray horse who kept wandering on to his estate.
He didn’t mind that. It happened to them all at one time or another.
What mattered most was the interloper who deliberately ran the same horse as fast as possible across his meadow.
Deciding he needed a break, he set the rest of the correspondence aside and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter he kept on the left side of his desk.
He sat back in his chair and swirled the golden liquid before taking a deep swallow.
It went down smooth, and he took another.
Maybe the best way to try and find this horse might be to continue what he’d started.
He wouldn’t go anywhere further, but he would try by returning to the viscount’s.
Perhaps this time the gates would be open, and someone would be in residence to answer his questions.
There was something about the estate that made him uneasy.
As though the viscount himself was eccentric.
By pursuing the matter like that, he might get some answers.
Even better, perhaps someone on his own staff knew someone working on the viscount’s estate.
He would make inquiries with the butler later.
Either he or the housekeeper would be knowledgeable since they had been at his estate the longest. They might know one of the viscount’s staff members or know if one of Arthur’s staff knew anyone employed there.
Whoever it was knew his estate well. Well enough to know how to access his estate from another way.
There was a rock wall that had been there since at least Arthur’s grandfather’s time, if not longer.
He would see if his estate manager knew of any holes in the wall.
Regardless of what he was told, Arthur decided he would ride along the wall tomorrow to see for himself.
He poured himself another whiskey and rose from his desk, heading over to a favorite dark brown leather chair.
There was a dampness in the air, and sitting close to the fire helped ward off the chill.
Roddy was glad for the company and thumped his tail on the floor in approval.
Knowing the setter needed exercise, Arthur thought to take him along tomorrow.
The dog was good about returning to him after sniffing out whatever caught his nose.
Maybe he would be more successful than today in finding the owner of the elusive gray.