Red Satin

by Barbara Miller

  Sir Foley tipped his glass and shot the swallow of port down his throat as though he really needed the restorative. “Every single one. Lord knows she is invaluable here, but I want her to have a future.”

  “I like her already. I’d like to get to know her better.”

  “We’ll ride tomorrow. Gary and I will fall behind.”

  “I imagine that will take no effort.”

  “She’s like a restive mare, always full of fire and energy. I could not bear to see that broken.” The sincere concern in his aged face was touching.

  “I don’t break horses either.” Devon withdrew a letter from his inside coat pocket. My father has drafted a settlement, but I’m sure you could it amend it however you wish.”

  Sir Foley took the papers but did not even look at them. He leaned toward Devon. “Before Gary gets back, I have just one question.”

  “What is it?”

  “Are you doing this to please your father?”

  “I became a soldier to please him and almost lost my life a dozen times over. When my brother died of the ague, I took charge of the estate to please Father. When he asked me to come here, I admit it was to please him. But now that I have met Selina, the only thing that would keep me from asking her to marry me is if I thought that would make her unhappy.”

  “You do want her then?”

  “More than anything. But it isn’t just about what I want.”

  “And there’s the rub. She says she’ll never marry.”

  “Then I have some fences to get over before I should ask that question.”

  Gary came back in and looked from Devon to his father. “Did I stay away long enough?”

  Devon chuckled. “Glad to see you are as bright as your sister.”

  “Well, she hasn’t trodden on your foot or tried to put you up on a bruiser yet, so you have a chance.”

  “Are you sure Selina will ride with us tomorrow?” Devon asked. “Lady Foley seemed to repress her, not that it’s any of my business.”

  Gary nodded. “My sister will make a recover overnight. Without a doubt she will ride tomorrow. It would kill her not to.”

  “She seems to have a special attachment for the one called Chalice.”

  Sir Foley sat up straight and shoved the port decanter toward his son. “She mothered him when the dam died. I gave him up for lost.”

  “I remember that,” Gary said. “She went and stole a bit of milk from a mare that had just foaled and got it into him. Then tied and hobbled the mare so she had to feed two.

  “Damn dangerous business, Gary. I’m glad you helped her.”

  Gary smiled. “After a few days Chalice got into stealing milk from every mare in the pasture and they came to tolerate him. But Selina is his mother.”

  “Then I would be doing them both a disservice to separate them.”

  “Hence her reluctance to admit Chalice’s readiness for work,” Gary said.

  Devon nodded and turned to Sir Foley. “If she agrees to marry me, will you sell him?”

  “Chalice must stay with Selina. That much is certain.”

  “Must she make her come out before marrying?”

  “My wife has this ridiculous notion of taking her to London. What kind of impression will she make when her only thoughts are for her horses more than a hundred miles away?”

  “What if I were to offer for her now?” Devon asked. “She would be going to London, if she ever agrees to go, as a married woman.”

  “Won’t your family think it odd?” Gary asked.

  “They did send me here. My family already think me odd anyway for spending so much time drawing landscapes and painting with watercolors. Besides I like her better than any young lady of my acquaintance and I think I could make her happy.”

  “If you wish to ask her, you have my blessing, but I cannot answer for Selina.”

  “Then I shall have to use all my remaining charm and put forward the advantage of her being able to help me build a new stud farm.”

  * * * * *

  “What the devil did you mean?” her mother admonished.

  “Mother, do you realize what you just said?”

  “Not like London? Give a thought to what you are saying, girl. You sit down to dinner with one of the most eligible young men in the country and you don’t even make a move to engage his interest.” Her mother had ruthlessly untied the shawl and cast it on the bed and was now pinning up her hair.

  “But you glare at me every time I open my mouth.” Selina stared at her still beautiful mother with scarcely a silver thread in her magnificent hair and wondered if she would ever have that much poise.

  “That is because nothing comes out of your mouth but some advice on poulticing a hock or preparing a drench for colic.”

  “But he’s interested in horses.”

  “It would be far better if you could engage his interest in you.”

  “He’s being polite, Mother. Please do not read anything into his intentions other than to impress Papa with his trustworthiness.”

  “Stop talking nonsense. Anything is possible. If you were to attach the affection of the future Earl of Carlisle, what a coup.”

  “But Mother, he only wants to buy horses.”

  “Go along and see if they are done with the port. I have asked for the tea tray early. As soon as you are done playing.”

  Selina went downstairs to the study door, trying to decide from the voices of the men inside if they were finished with their wine.

  “Sir,” her father said, “a toast is in order. To Devon. If you marry Selina, Chalice will be her dowry. You aren’t likely to get one without the other.”

  Selina leaped back from the door as though it had burned her fingers. She was being bartered and by her own father. The shock of it wiped out any tender feelings that might have been budding for Devon. And her brother’s hearty laugh ripped an oath from her lips, consigning him to the devil as well. The anger had taken full possession of her by the time her mother caught her stalking toward the stairs.

  “Where are you going? Are they coming?”

  “No, they are deep in their cups and I have a headache.”

  “More like a stomachache after what you ate. Now go into the drawing room and get ready. He will at least see that you can play genteelly.”

  Selina did as she was bid. Better to face down the men than sulk in her room. Rather than the sedate pieces her mother had selected she started with a march and ended by pounding out an allegro with a crescendo.

  To her complete annoyance Devon applauded.

  “Wonderful.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Perhaps he was tone deaf. She curtseyed under the admonishing glare of her mother and said, “I bid you good night.”

  But she did not go to bed. Rather she went to her room and changed into her work clothes, then made her way to the stable where the head lad was watching the new foal just standing.

  “We’d ‘a’ come for you miss, but yer mother said not to disturb ye.”

  “All went well?”

  “Taffy always throws bonny colts.”

  The chortling of the mare and the rustling of the hay as the foal stumbled to the right spot and reached under for a drink were comforting sounds. She heard but did not regard the door opening and closing until a chuckle announced Devon’s presence.

  “I thought you might be here,” Devon’s smooth voice said in her ear.

  She stared at his handsome profile and realized none of this was his fault. “I am not needed after all, I suppose. One of the lads will check on them through the night.”

  He leaned on the stall door beside her so close she could almost feel the heat of him through their clothes.

  “You missed the birth because of me.”

  She shrugged. “There will be many more. Everything is fine. We had better get to bed if we are to ride tomorrow.”

  “I’ll walk you back to the house.”

  The stars were out and she knew she could never bear to
leave this place. This was her home and the horses were her family as surely as her parents and brother. Why were her people trying to get rid of her?

  “My father’s estate isn’t so far away, five or six hours with a good team. I see these same stars at night.”

  He stood beside her looking up and she found she could not hate him here in the night with the new foal just starting its life with such promise.

  “But it’s not the same place. I know every creature on this farm. Most men don’t care at all about the welfare of the animals, only for their speed and show.”

  He looked away from the stars and into her eyes. “That’s why you hate them. Every unneeded hurt or death pains you more than the creature to which it happens.”

  “Do you think horses have souls?” she whispered as she clutched her cloak tighter.

  “I have known enough men without them. I’m sure horses have them. They form attachments, care about other horses and people.”

  “And yet we buy and sell them as though they were so much meat.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “But we do not slaughter them, except during war. There was a time I thought I’d never have the courage to own another horse.”

  “Why?”

  “I lost so many when I was in the cavalry. Before I returned, I bought up what mares I could to assure they would get to some place safe. It’s very hard to start over.”

  “I forgot you were a soldier.”

  “I wish I could forget it as well. Now may I ask you something?”

  Fair was fair. She nodded.

  “Why do you dislike and fear Sir Timothy?”

  “Oh, that. He wants to marry me, not like the others for pretend, but for real. And he’s so very old that I have trouble being rude to him.”

  “Does your father know this?”

  “I’m not sure or why I told you.”

  “It’s the dark. You feel a secret is safe out here. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

  “I like the dark. No one can see me and criticize. It’s safe.”

  Devon nodded and reached for her hand. “This isn’t the only place that could be safe for you.”

  * * * * *

  Though Selina had seemed to soften toward him the night before, she was so frosty at breakfast that her mother sent the girl an admonishing look. Was Lady Foley trying to compel her to lead him on? When they went to the stable, Selina decided he would ride a brute called Tudor, a large gray with a bit of workhorse in him, or medieval charger. For herself, she chose a mare named Silk which must have been coming into season, for the stud was distracted and spent a deal of time curling his lip. The mare showed her teeth and would have ripped his mount’s shoulder had Selina not curbed her aggression. Having an intimate talk with the woman was out of the question. Besides, who proposed on horseback?

  With great patience and persistence he got Tudor to hold to a trot even though Selina was loping the mare. She looked back, then halted the mare and waited for him at the stream.

  “He wants so much to do what I want, doesn’t he?” Devon noted a look of surprise in her blue eyes and tipped head. She smiled, he thought, in spite of herself.

  “Yes, if only he can figure out what that is. Our instruction is imprecise, not his intelligence. I’m surprised you realize that.”

  “I have trained horses before.” Then he recalled that she thought he meant to take Chalice away from her. Best to relieve her mind as soon as possible. But how to get a word alone with her.

  “Do you want to buy Tudor?”

  “He’s a fine stud, but I don’t think I have the expertise to handle more than one.”

  “But he could be the one, your foundation sire,” she insisted.

  “He’s not your favorite, is he?”

  She looked away. “I have no favorites.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her. “Have you thought about the future?”

  “Tudor is only six. He will breed for another decade or more.”

  Devon chuckled. “I mean your future.”

  She stole a look at him. “No, never.”

  “Do you mean to stay here even after your brother is in charge?”

  “Why not? Gary is reasonable.”

  “But his wife may not be.

  “I never interfere with the house.” She held her head up. “Just the stables.”

  “You don’t wish a home of your own?”

  “I don’t want to leave Foley Hall.”

  “Not even to marry?” Devon felt at a disadvantage on horseback even though the animals were now drinking from the stream.

  “I don’t mean to marry.”

  “Your care of the horses is so expert, so loving. Have you no desire for children of your own to take care of?” He nudged Tudor closer to the mare, a dangerous move for the stallion flared his nostrils and the mare squealed.

  “Matching up people is not so easy as paring mares and studs,” she advised. “There has to be more than breeding. There must at least be a regard.”

  “You mean love?” he suggested.

  Her smile was quick and nervous. “And that so seldom happens in real life.”

  “But it is possible.”

  “You’ve been in love?” She stared directly at him, her curiosity overcoming her distain.

  “I am now,” he admitted.

  Selina pouted. “Who is she?”

  Devon chuckled. “A beautiful, competent young woman with a penchant for horses and a head of hair like red satin.”

  When she stared up at him, he bent and kissed her lips, but the spell was broken by the kiss. Instead of melting in his arms she tightened the reins and turned her horse.

  “You’re just saying that because you want Chalice.”

  “No, I want you,” he pleaded even as he struggled to hold Tudor.

  “You want Chalice and you think marrying me is the only way to get him.”

  “I am asking you to become my wife,” he shouted above the squealing of both animals. “I don’t care about the horse.”

  “Marriage!” she said with disdain.

  “Yes, that state of bliss, that, that—” He was cut off by Tudor rearing.

  “Do be serious. I cannot marry you,” she shouted.

  “Why not?” Devon was angry with himself for blurting out his proposal under circumstances so counter to any chance of success.

  “Papa needs me here.”

  “If you married me you would have you own stable with as many horses as you want.” He kept struggling to hold Tudor in check while Silk angled around to kick the big horse in the chest.

  “I have that now.”

  “But no one would be able to take them away from you,” he insisted.

  “I have them at their best, young and alive with joy.” Her voice was tearful. “How could I wish for more?”

  “Somewhere a husband might come into the equation,” he growled.

  “I’m not cut out for marriage. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t care for it.” She turned the mare to leave him.

  “What if you fell in love?”

  Selina went off into a peal of hysterical laughter. “I don’t really believe in love. That’s for fairy tales, not for me.”

  This was absurd. He was trying to propose and Tudor was fighting him for the bit. If he wasn’t careful, they would have a consummation between the two horses in a few moments, lucky animals. “Would you at least consider my offer before giving me a definite no?”

  “While you are here, I must consider it, sir. And now I must leave you.”

  Silk’s parting shot was a backward kick that caught him in the ankle and the stud in the belly. Tudor reared again and Devon slid off into the stream. But he did not let go of the reins.

  * * * * *

  “You what?” her mother ranted in the hall after Selina returned alone. “You turned him down? And then left him out there? What if he gets lost? What if that brute of a horse kills him?”

  “Mother, I said
I would consider his suit.”

  Her father and brother came out of the study looking worried.

  “Selina you should not have abandoned our guest. Gary, go look for him.”

  Before her brother got to the front door, Devon limped in, dripping, and brushed the mud off his coat.

  “Have you been injured?” Lady Foley asked.

  “No, I am fine, and just so Selina does not worry, Tudor is perfectly all right as well.” He then went up the stairs with a halting gait.

  Lady Foley turned on her daughter. “You will go to him now and tell him you accept.”

  “Now he is like to be changing his wet clothes.”

  “He has just returned. Go to his door and knock or I will do it for you.”

  She did as she was bid and Roth opened the door, throwing her an accusing look.

  “Yes?” Devon said, half out of his wet coat. “Selina, what is it?”

  She began stripping off her gloves, changing her crop from hand to hand. “My mother bids me come to tell you I accept your offer of marriage.”

  Roth rolled his eyes and left the room, careful that the door should remain ajar.

  “She bids you? Ordinarily you are such a courageous girl. Why do you do this only at her bidding?”

  “There would be no peace otherwise. But if you withdraw the offer, then no blame would attach to me.”

  “No, I do not withdraw.” He strode toward her, stripping the other sleeve off his arm and shedding the coat. “I wish to make you my wife.”

  “You cannot possibly love me.”

  “Why not? You are very lovable.”

  “I am not!” She threw her gloves and riding crop onto the table and knocked a portfolio to the floor. When she stooped to gather it up, pictures spilled out—some of ruined castles, some of soldiers, and some of a woman. “That’s me.”

  “That’s right. You are the only thing I draw now. I am well nigh obsessed with love for you. If you turn me down, I shall never marry either.”

  She spread the drawings out on the table and looked up at him. “No horses.”

  He sighed. “Well they are harder to draw.”

  “Be serious, Devon. Do you indeed love me?”

  He came and hugged her in a damp embrace. “Yes, I love you to the exclusion of everything else in my entire life.”

  “But I abandoned you. You could have been killed. I feel so guilty.”