Prologue
The crackle of a bright fire cheered the parlour of Holly Grange, filling it with welcome warmth against the icy cold November night outside.
“Well…” Mr Augustus Foster, seated on one side of the fireplace, folded a newspaper neatly on his lap and looked at his family. “Old Sir Robert Kendall has finally passed on, it would seem.”
Both the other occupants of the room raised their heads.
“About time,” observed his wife, sighing from the opposite chair. “That man was an utter bounder, no question about it. I’d not wish death on anyone, but I’m certainly not going into mourning on his behalf.”
“I cannot but agree with you, my dear,” her husband nodded sagely. “A hard man, indeed. Not many will shed a tear, I’ll wager.”
“I wonder who will take over his stables?” Miss Geraldine Foster, curled up informally on the couch a little further away from the fire, raised her head from her books and glanced at her father.
Her Mama chuckled. “I’m sure some clever gentleman will snap them up, darling. There are too many excellent horses there to go to waste.”
Geraldine curled her lip. “’Tis certain the new Baronet will have no interest in any of them.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty,” cautioned Mr Foster. “Clearly, Sir Blaine Kendall needs to come down to Kendall Manor and take care of matters. He is now, after all, the owner.”
His daughter rolled her eyes. “As if he cares one whit about the stables.” She straightened.
“Do you know he’s not once visited Kendall Manor in the past ten years?
Ten years? He probably wouldn’t know his horses if he came face to face with any of them in the middle of an empty field. ” She snorted, a sound rife with scorn.
Mrs Foster shot a reproving glance at Geraldine. “With such a parent, my dear, we must not condemn the young man out of hand. We’re not privy to whatever took place between father and son. Clearly there was a rift there, and it is a sad matter when parents and children become distant.”
She smiled at her husband. “Thankfully, we’re not faced with that kind of situation.
Our son is happy at university, although I could wish he’d picked one nearer than Switzerland.
” She moved her shoulders in a slight shrug.
“But he’ll be home next year. And I’m quite sure that our daughter will, in time, find her own happiness with the right gentleman. ”
Geraldine opened her mouth to respond to the pointed look thrown her way, then acknowledged the futility of any protests and closed it again.
Her Mama continued. “Which reminds me, Augustus. Mr Francis Rovington mentioned he’d like to pay a call tomorrow afternoon. I believe he’s seeking your opinion of a foal he’s thinking of purchasing.”
Mr Foster nodded. “Of course. Nice chap, Rovington.” He turned to Geraldine, one eyebrow raised. “He might do for you, daughter. Well-to-do, a sound annual income, and interested in horses…”
“Ah.”
She would not let herself be drawn into that conversation, since she knew that doing so would lead to a squabble with her Mama.
“Well, we’ll see.” Mrs Foster smiled over her embroidery.
Geraldine cleared her throat. “I think I’ll retire, Mama, if you don’t mind. I would like to get an early start tomorrow with our new colt. He’s close to accepting the saddle, and I’d rather not lose the progress we’ve made so far.”
Mrs Foster nodded. “Very well, dear. I’m sure Jepson appreciates your gift with horses.”
Thinking of their head groom’s comments on her training methods, Geraldine wasn’t so sure, but she merely smiled, dutifully placed light kisses on both parents’ cheeks, and took herself off.
Shunning the assistance of a maid, she undressed and readied herself for bed, taking one of her books with her.
The Anatomy of a Horse might have been viewed with horror by her contemporaries, but for Geraldine it was much more interesting reading than Mrs Radcliffe’s more recent dramatic literary adventures.
Tucking herself under the warm covers, she propped the book up on a pillow and opened it, hoping to read at least a chapter before her candle died.
But instead, her thoughts flew across the fields to the Kendall stables, and the dozen or so horses that were now simply part of an estate willed to the next Baronet.
What did he know of Thunder’s preference for carrots over apples? Did he care that sweet Darby Doll was going to be ready to breed in the new year?
Once again, Geraldine heaved a sigh of relief that her family’s horses, all happily tucked away for the night in their stalls, were so well cared for.
The Kendall grooms were good and did their best for the animals, of course.
As her father had said, they were prize winners, without a doubt.
But there should be that tiny extra bit of care, the understanding of each horse as a unique creature – all things that added something special.
At least, that was her opinion.
She felt a moment’s sadness for the Kendall horses.
But then again, there might be a silver lining to that particular cloud.
With all the confusion following the old Baronet’s death and the accession of the new one, this might be the year she finally found a way to slip unnoticed into the ranks of competitors, and ride in the Mistletoe Cup.
And if she did? She’d win.