“Robert loathes the theatre.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “But he loves horses. I promised him his pick of my stables if they would agree to chaperone you.”
“But it’s his uncle’s birthday!”
“Ravenhurst assured me that his uncle would understand the sacrifices one makes to acquire a decent horse,” he said, in tones of utmost satisfaction. “And my stables are legendary.”
Of course they would be, Jilly admitted sourly. He was a damned duke. But she still couldn’t help being just the tiniest bit touched that he had sacrificed a horse—when good horseflesh was so very dear—simply to secure her company.
She heard her voice tremble awkwardly through the inquiry. “You gave up a horse—a good horse—just so I would accompany you to the theatre tonight?”
For a moment he looked startled, as if she had caught him off-guard. He blinked, and his hands settled at his sides, his eyes going distant for just a fraction of a second. “I did,” he said, almost hesitantly. “Of course I did.” But his brows had drawn together, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
It wasn’t quite regret, but it was something approximating stupefaction, and he stared at her in utter bewilderment, as if she were somehow responsible for it.
Uncomfortable, she cleared her throat. “I’m sure Robert will understand that you have changed your mind,” she said, hoping to ease the tension. “No one would expect you to honor such an agreement.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” he said slowly, still staring at her with that perplexed expression. “And I will honor it. I was just…considering.”
“Considering what?” She swallowed hard, ill at ease with the intensity of his gaze.
For a moment he said nothing. He dragged a hand through his disheveled hair and broke his gaze from hers at last as a muscle ticked in his cheek. “Lord Ravenhurst was bought too cheaply,” he said, his voice a full octave lower than it had been. “I would have given him every horse in my stables.”

∞∞∞