Page 7 of Winning Her Duke

It was a sad state that he could identify perfection in a horse, but human women confounded him. He hated their trivial games and calculations to lure him to the altar.

Horses were easier. Honest.

“Is she for sale?” Hale asked the groom who was leading the mare to the paddock. If she was, Hale would attend the auction and buy her immediately.

“No. At least not on the block. I reckon everything is for sale at the right price,” the man said with a grin. True words.

Hale was fortunate that despite his father’s lacking in many other areas, he was never a spendthrift. He’d managed or hired a manager that kept the estates flourishing and his coffers full.

“And who does this lovely lady belong to?” Hale inquired, knowing he could afford to make a tempting offer.

Checking the tag on the horse’s bridle the groom read the name, “Giovanni Landon. At Tomison House on James Street.”

Hale flipped the man a coin for sharing the information.

“Thank you. I shall pay him a visit.” Hale didn’t recognize the man by name, but for this prize piece of horseflesh, he’d be sure to make the man’s acquaintance soon.

The mare would do well to help him fulfill his promise to Ethan to find his passion.

When his stallion nuzzled with the mare again as the groom pulled her away, Hale decided he would visit that very day.

Chapter Three

Gia put the finishing touches on a painting of Arabella and wiped her hands on a cloth as Lydia rushed into the room.

“Oh, dear. You’re a mess,” Lydia said, her hands going to her mouth in distress.

“Why, thank you for noticing.” Gia rolled her eyes. “I’m only painting.” She looked down at the old smock she wore over her dress that was wrinkled and spattered with paint, thinking it was quite obvious what she was doing. It was true she didn’t look at all the thing, but again, she was only painting.

Had London become so ridiculous that ladies were expected to dress perfectly to paint?

“You’ve paint in your hair. That won’t do at all,” Lydia fretted. “You must hurry and dress.”

“Whyever for?” She knew Lydia planned to drag her off to a dinner that evening, but there was plenty of time to get ready for that.

That is, if she couldn’t find a way out of it.

“You have a caller. You must hurry. Bess, bring Jessie please. Help us right away,” Lydia called for Gia’s maid as well as her own who both looked as confused as Gia.

“A caller? How could I possibly have a caller when no one so much as spoke to me last night?”

Gia recalled the last time she’d come to London, hoping to find that special someone to spend her life with only to be faced with a room full of callers who assumed she would offer up favors in exchange for a few wilted blooms. Men were deceitful monsters, and she had no use for any of them.

Her older self became angry in defense of her younger self’s naivety.

“It doesn’t matter why he’s here,” Lydia went on. “Just that he’s here.”

“But who is here?”

“The Duke of Roxburghe.”

“A duke…? A duke is here to see me?” Gia couldn’t help but sound skeptical. “Is it possible he’s heard the rumors from my come out and believes my heritage will pave the way for him to make a conquest? Because as hard as I’m trying, Lydia, if that is the case, I can’t promise I won’t plant him a facer.”

“Young ladies don’t go around hitting dukes.”

“I’m no longer all that young, and dukes shouldn’t do things to get themselves punched.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder toward the door as if speculating their visitor’s thoughts.