Chapter Ten #2
“Then let us look.” He steered her down the first walkway between the pens.
Georgiana ground to a halt in front of the first pen, which held a very flashy chestnut gelding in possession of four white socks and a long blaze down his nose.
“Sidebone,” she said, indicating his legs.
“This horse has been worked too early and too severely on hard surfaces.” She looked at the animal’s wide brown eyes.
“A shame. But he’d be trouble before long. ”
Fitz nodded, looking suitably impressed at her knowledge.
They moved on to the next pen, which held a pretty, dappled-grey mare and had a piece of paper stuck to the pen gate declaring the mare as being a “lady’s hack.
” “Roach backed,” Georgiana said, indicating the lack of curvature behind the horse’s withers and feeling a little smug at being able to display her knowledge. “Keep going.”
They progressed down the walkway until Fitz stopped in front of a pen that held two handsome but sturdy bay horses of about sixteen hands. Georgian stopped too and eyed them up, waiting to see if he would say anything. It would be fun to discover what he himself knew about horse flesh.
He stayed silent. Was he testing her as she was testing him? Waiting to see if she could spot a good horse? She’d spotted the bad ones, but he must think it remained to be seen if she was as good at picking out a good’un.
“Shall we look at their teeth?” she said.
As they were tied up, this was easy enough to do, and with Fitz opening their mouths, both of them peered into the horses’ mouths.
He was waiting again.
She nodded. “I would say they’re both about six years old, so a good age with plenty of work left in them.” She ran her hands down the first one’s front legs. “Both have clean legs. And kind eyes. Neither is head shy. I don’t personally like a docked tail, but that can’t be helped.”
“Best in a carriage horse,” Fitz said, offering his opinion for the first time. “Stops long tails getting tangled up.”
“An old stable hand’s tale. And anyway, a long tail can be tied up out of the way.
I always think a horse looks better with the tail God gave them.
Spaniels, too.” She fixed him with a challenging stare, but he didn’t react.
Perhaps this had never occurred to him before.
He was in need of some education, it seemed.
She looked back at the two horses. “I like them. What’s their lot number? Shall you bid on them, do you think?” Best let him think he was in charge. A little. Even if he wasn’t.
“Agreed.”
Well, they’d get them as they had the money to outbid anyone else here, so that was settled. On, now, to riding horses, and perhaps another pair of driving horses so they could harness four for the trip to Osbaston.
It took a while, but eventually they located a large black gelding for Fitz and a liver chestnut mare with a delicate head that spoke of Arabian blood for her, and Georgiana reached the conclusion that Fitz was letting her think she was doing the choosing, but in reality it was he who was in charge.
Hmmm.
She eyed him as he ran his hand over the black gelding’s well-muscled shoulder. Was she annoyed about this? Perhaps not. Or perhaps what had happened was that they’d reached a mutual agreement.
Now only the bidding remained and this was far more exciting than she’d imagined. They had to go and stand with all the gentlemen while each horse was run up and down by a groom, and the auctioneer on his raised desk shouted out the prices people were bidding.
Try as she might, Georgiana couldn’t spot where he was snatching the bids from, not even when it was Fitz who was doing it.
Was he just making the smallest of nods?
She’d best keep her own head still when horses she didn’t want were being run up and bid for.
How awful would it be to have to go home with a broken winded old nag rather than the bloodstock they really wanted.
Fitz, who must have realized her worries, leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Have no fear, even if you waved your arms in the air and jumped up and down, he’d never accept a bid from you. For you’re a lady and ladies do not bid.”
She glanced up at him in a mixture of indignation at the discrimination and relief that she no longer had to remain rigidly still, and found him grinning down at her.
“I know,” he said, still conspiratorial. “You’re in a tizzy because you don’t like being ignored. Even though you know more about horse flesh than most of the men here.”
Flattery indeed. Her cheeks heated at his praise.
Did he really think that? Assessing a horse came to her as naturally as breathing, and not just because old Amos, Papa’s head groom, had taught it to her.
He’d praised her too, saying she had a good eye and an inborn ability.
But to have Fitz say the same gave her a warm feeling inside.
Did she want him to be impressed by her? Maybe she did.
Well…if she was honest, she definitely did.
They got the horses they wanted, and Fitz organized someone from the Repository to deliver them to Bedford Square.
Now they had to hope that Ellis would have fulfilled his side and hired them some servants to look after the horses.
Or she would be having to put her mucking out skills to the test and persuading Fitz that he should too.
They walked home together, the feeling of camaraderie returned in the light of their successful purchases, and although the spring in Georgiana’s step was modified by her tiredness, she nevertheless was full of joy.
She peeped up at Fitz. He towered over her diminutive stature but was moderating his step to match her much shorter one. “I would have much preferred to have ridden our horses home, you know. If I hadn’t been dressed in this stuffy morning gown, I think I would have.”
He chuckled, his dark eyes warm. “And I believe you. But I think such an action would have shocked all those stuffy old gentlemen who bid against us even further. Can you picture their faces had I given you a leg up onto your pretty little mare?”
“Bareback. I would have ridden her home bareback.” She matched his chuckle, liking him all the more for his joining in with her suppositions.
“And no doubt astride with your gown rucked up to expose your dainty ankles.”
She skipped along. “Possibly higher than that.”
He halted and turned towards her. “I’m beginning to realize that you are something of a character, Mrs. Carlyon.”
She laughed out loud. “You’ve only just noticed? I am afraid I must own that Aunt Patience did not think my being ‘something of a character’ was a trait a young lady should possess.”
“On the contrary. I believe it to be something all young ladies should aspire to have. It makes you so much more interesting.”
She froze, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion.
Just what did he mean by that? For a long moment she regarded him in something akin to confusion, wondering what it was about him that inspired her own interest in him.
He was so very different from Alexander.
No. She would make no comparisons. Impossible now, anyway, as with her proximity to Fitz her memory of Alexander had dimmed to a hazy image only.
She tugged on his arm. “Come. Let’s get home to make sure Ellis has found us the staff to care for our horses, for I fear you are not the sort who likes to get his hands dirty in a stable.”
His eyes twinkled at her. “On the contrary. I looked after my own horse while on campaign in Spain, I’ll have you know. You’ll not be holding that over me, Mrs. Carlyon.”
And with that they continued on their way home.