Chapter 6
Two days later—with no contact from the Duke—Sebastian had one of the zebras, Wibble, in the round yard.
He’d concluded that he’d dreamed the other day in his cottage, and therefore he ought to get on with the task of winning this bet since it might help him forget the entire thing.
Unlikely, but he had to do something productive rather than dwell on it.
The stable lads had named the zebras Stripes, Wibble, Dungeon, and Bob.
They were in the process of being harness broken, and today’s task was to lunge them in the round yard while they became used to wearing a girth, bridle, and side reins.
None of the zebras really understood the point of what they were doing and it was a bit frustrating.
Earlier today Bob had just laid down in the sand and refused to get up again.
Horses had an intuition about working with a person making them much less frustrating than this.
And watching a rotund stripey donkey-like creature trot languidly around the outside of the round yard wasn’t Seb’s favourite thing, although they did have a smoother stride than he’d expected.
“No, Wibble. Get up you insouciant beast.” Just as Bob had before, bloody Wibble just lay down in the sand.
He cracked his whip in the air. Wibble jumped up and charged at him, teeth bared, and he dropped his whip so he could grab the reins and Wibble whirled around.
He patted the beast to soothe it, dodging a few cow kicks and then Wibble tried to head butt him.
“No you don’t.” He softened his hold, still patting him, and slowly the zebra stopped fighting him. “There you go.”
“Having trouble, Sebastian?”
“They are a little more challenging than I’d expected.
” He kept his attention on Wibble who suddenly decided to try and lie down again.
“No, none of that. Come on, that’ll do for today.
Let’s get you washed down and fed.” Luckily he had plenty of time to train them, as they’d take more sessions—shorter and less intense—than he did with the racehorses who understood the point quickly and enjoyed their work.
His horses had longer attention spans too.
He guided Wibbles to the gate at the edge of the round yard, and the animal almost sighed as they headed back towards the stables. One of the lads came over.
“All done, boss?”
“Enough for today, John. They don’t seem to have a long attention span.”
“I imagine that’s why we haven’t domesticated them yet.” The Duke must have followed them.
“Careful, your Grace. Wibble has one hell of a kick.” And he wasn’t afraid to unleash it. Zebras didn’t kick like horses, they were more unpredictable and had more range, like a combination of an angry bull and a donkey in a volatile little package.
“Wibble?” The Duke stood far enough away that he’d be safe, but not so far that Sebastian couldn’t see the way he stared smugly.
“The stable lads named them. This is Wibble. In the box over there is Bob. Stripes and Dungeon are over there.” He handed over the reins to a stable lad, and quickly undid the side reins and surcingle from the zebra.
“Rub him down, will you? But not alone. Be careful.” Sebastian slid all the gear off the zebra; all 12.
3hh of him and gave him a quick scratch on his wither.
Like all animals, Wibble loved a good scratch and he made that funny noise that zebras made; somewhere between a high pitched bark and the throatiness of a donkey.
Weirdest noise he’d ever heard an animal make.
“He seems to like that,” said John, the stable lad.
“Yes. Maybe he’ll see the benefits of being domesticated soon,” said the Duke.
Sebastian nodded. “He’s going to have to. I want Smolensk.”
John gasped. “Smolensk, the Derby winner, boss?” Like all the lads, John was a keen study of the form.
John hadn’t been able to read when he arrived at Pewett Downs, but it was one of Sebastian’s requirements that they learn to read via the form pages in the paper.
Sebastian would’ve glanced at the Duke but he didn’t want to take his attention away from Wibble who might be enjoying this scratch but was generally not to be trusted yet.
“Yes. If we can train these zebras to drive as a four-in-hand on St Leger day, I will win my wager with His Royal Highness and Smolensk will be mine.” The Duke managed to make the ridiculousness of the wager sound like an everyday occurrence for a Duke.
Perhaps it was. Sebastian had heard rumours that the toffs would bet on anything, even a pair of raindrops sliding down a window.
“Did you need something, your Grace?” Sebastian still had two more zebras to put through their paces today.
“Come to dinner at the big house tonight.” The command was shocking. They’d always met in the Duke’s office to talk about pedigrees and the farm, or the Duke dropped by the stables to make his pronouncements.
“Dinner?” Sebastian glanced at the Duke, taking his attention off Wibbles for a second, but only a second. Duke training must be incredible as only a keen observer would’ve noticed the way the Duke stiffened and the way his nostrils flared the tiniest bit.
“To continue our discussion from a few days ago.” The Duke closed his eyes, a long blink, as if trying to control himself. “I don’t expect you to dress formally. We will eat in the breakfast room.”
“The breakfast room?” Although he’d been in the Duke’s house many times, Sebastian couldn’t imagine a house big enough to have a different room for each function.
“Hardwicke will guide you.” As the Duke turned to march away, Sebastian noticed a flash of colour over the Duke’s cheeks.
Or maybe he’d imagined it, merely wanting the Duke to feel something about him and react to his acceptance of an invitation to dinner.
Wibble stamped his foot and Sebastian breathed out slowly to keep his heart calm.
Equines reacting to his emotions was something he understood, so maybe the zebra wasn’t as different to his beloved racehorses as he’d been assuming.
“I hope you aren’t in trouble, boss.”
Sebastian nodded. “One thing you should know about the high and mighty like his Grace is that if they want you gone, they’ll tell you immediately. Most likely he wants to talk about his wager and our progress.”
“I’d best get on with rubbing Wibble down. I think Joe has Dungeon ready for you.”
Sebastian finished up his scratches on Wibble’s wither with a good long pat and nodded to John before walking towards Dungeon’s stable.
It suddenly occurred to him that the Duke wanted to talk about their kiss—a continuation of the other day, he’d said—not about the zebras.
Damn it, now he was going to have to attempt to focus on the task of wrangling a stubborn grumpy animal and not get distracted by the possibility of kissing the Duke—Maurice—again.
It was incredibly dangerous to think of the Duke by his first name, or what it meant that the Duke had granted him permission to use it.
It wasn’t done. Names were reserved for lovers and wives, not him.
Except ... heat spread all over his skin as if he’d been dipped under a waterfall of flame .
.. if he was correct, tonight he’d become the Duke’s lover.
He leaned against the solid stone walls of the stable block.
He needed all his wits about him if he wasn’t going to injured by these zebras.
After a few breaths, he was ready. Training the reluctant creatures was certainly a challenge, a ridiculous one, and maybe it was the challenge he needed to prove the depth of his skills.
It definitely would be fun to prove everyone wrong.
Training zebras couldn’t be done, and orphaned stable lads didn’t become the lover of a Duke either.
Maybe it was time for Sebastian to show himself that everyone was wrong on both counts.
With a little smile on his face, he took the reins from Joe and lead Dungeon to the round yard. Challenge accepted.