“In his youth.”

“You mentioned he was a senator, too, a politician as well as a horse breeder. He sounds rather like our English aristocrats.”

The topic made her uneasy, for he’d ventured too close to the truth. What would he say if he learned of her shady family connections to the nobility? Natalie had no wish to enlighten him, for she firmly believed that the blue blood conferred by birth made a duke no more worthy than any of the workers in this stable yard.

Luckily, she had reason to change the subject. “Look, there’s Leo. I’ll go fetch him.”

Natalie hurried ahead toward the boy, who was galloping his little cavalryman along the white slats of the paddock fence. Her mind was set on scolding him when an angry equine snort broke into her thoughts. The livid sounds of an enraged stallion came from within the paddock.

In swift succession, she noted that Lord Wymark was mounted on a large bay at the far end of the enclosure, and that he seemed to be having difficulty controlling the agitated animal. He shouted at a groom, who hastened to unlatch the gate.

The stallion reared, its front legs pawing at the air. The iron-shod hooves hit the dirt and the horse sprang forward.

Just as Leo wandered past the open gate.

Chapter 9

Hadrian had been admiring Miss Fanshawe’s shapely figure as she walked ahead of him toward Leo. She wore that cinnamon gown again, the same one as in their first meeting at the inn, when she’d come looking for the brat who’d been hiding underneath the table. Now, as then, he wondered how a long-sleeved frock with a modest neckline could be so titillating. The brown shawl over her shoulders made her gown even more provocative, affording him glimpses of a slender waist, womanly hips, and a delightfully curvy bottom.

Perhaps it was not the trappings at all, but the woman herself who fascinated him. Natalie. An uncommon name for an uncommon lady. Her bold, forthright nature made him suspect that she would be equally passionate in bed. He had no intention of finding out if that was true, but the thought inspired his lustful imaginings nonetheless. He was entertaining a vision of exploring the silken skin beneath her skirts when an irritated whinny brought the fantasy to an abrupt halt.

His gaze snapped to the paddock. Only then did he realize that Wymark was mounted on Thunder, his new bay stallion. The horse was dancing to the side, tossing its head and snorting. His cousin sawed at the reins in an attempt to keep the spirited animal in check. Fool! Hadrian had warned the pup that he lacked the experience to control the volatile beast.

Just then, Thunder reared, front legs kicking the air. Wymark clung for dear life, by some miracle avoiding a toss into the dirt. The bay came back down onto all four hooves and surged forward.

Straight at Leo as he strolled past the open gate.