and guileless, “I wished to ask Mr. Sherbrooke about a matter of importance. Do you know when he will return home?”
The hum died in Petrie’s mouth, his face turned to stone. Chin going up just a bit, he said, “He did not confide in me, Miss Carrick.”
But he knew, damn him. Petrie wouldn’t let Jason out of the house if he didn’t know where Jason was going and with whom he was meeting. What was he hiding? How to pry it out of him?
“It concerns the Dauntry mare coming tomorrow, an urgent matter we must discuss as soon as possible. Surely he said something.”
“My master spoke only of the bloody rain, Miss Carrick. Ah, he did mention he might ask you to shine his boots for him tomorrow.”
“Surely you didn’t agree with that, did you, Petrie? A female shining your master’s boots?”
Petrie said slowly, “I have never before considered anise seed. We will see. Oh yes, Mrs. Gray sent a message saying she wouldn’t be with us tomorrow. It seems her brother has a broken leg and she must tend to him. She believes the first of next week will be all right for both her and her brother.”
Hallie realized she was stumped. What else could she ask? Better to quit the field with some dignity. “Ah, well, no matter. Thank you, Petrie.”
“Of course, Miss Carrick. I am at your service, naturally, at any time at all.”
His slyness smacked her in the back of the head. She would never give him the exact measure of anise seed. “You gave me no service at all,” she said over her shoulder as she marched, with not much dignity, into the dining room.
Cook burned the sole, mashed the fresh green beans, and placed lovely warm rolls on the table with doughy centers. The promised blancmange for dessert never appeared, probably a good thing. Angela remarked that she heard Cook singing a funeral dirge, and who knew funeral dirges for heaven’s sake? Who had told her of Jason’s defection? Hallie decided she should have tried a little toadying. Maybe it would have worked as well as male beauty and Jason’s smile.
Or maybe not.
CHAPTER 21
The following morning was sunny and warm. No one would guess it had rained hard enough to fill the rain barrel unless they slipped in an occasional three-foot mud puddle.
It had taken Hallie and three stable lads to hold Delilah still and keep her calm while Henry and Jason controlled Dodger, who was snorting, wild-eyed, nostrils flaring. He was so well-rested and excited, saliva was dripping from his mouth, but he didn’t hurt the mare, which was a relief.
After Dodger had performed his duty with Delilah, Hallie wondered how Delilah could have enjoyed herself at all. It was a messy business, sometimes dangerous. The thing was, Henry told Hallie, that Delilah was no longer interested in her food. Dodger was something, wasn’t he, he’d rescued Delilah from a desert of want. Hallie had no answer for that.
Everyone was exhausted and tired and sweaty when it was over. The men hadn’t even seemed to notice she wasn’t one of them there toward the end of the business what with sweat running down her brow.
As Hallie wiped Delilah’s sleek neck, she said, “You’re a brave girl, Delilah, a stoic princess faced with a toad, not a prince. Yes, you were able to bear that clod of a horse with that disgusting spit hanging out of his mouth.” She was reaching for a damp sponge when she saw Jason standing in the stall doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an elegant eyebrow arched over wicked eyes, grinning at her.
Her chin went up, her voice defensive even as she willed it not to be. “Well, it’s the truth. Dodger wasn’t at all, er, graceful and considerate, as he was to Piccola.”
“As I recall, Piccola nearly slept through it.”
“Well, Delilah wanted to kill Dodger. She was quivering, her eyes were rolling, and she looked really mad. The more upset she became the more of a brute Dodger was.”
“Some men are as well,” Jason said, realized what had come out of his mouth, and bit his tongue. What was the matter with him?
That made her frown at him. She started brushing Delilah too vigorously and was nearly bitten. She jumped aside even as she said with a lovely sneer in his ever-so-lovely smiling face, “Well now, haven’t you been in a deliriously happy frame of mind since the moment Petrie dragged you out of bed this morning? Very late, wasn’t it? I do believe that Angela and I had long finished eating. If it wasn’t for your damned face, you would have gone hungry.”
“Well, I didn’t since our cook is excellent and ever so flexible. She served me fresh nutty buns, scrambled eggs and, I do believe, bacon crisped just as I like it. We are very lucky to have her.”
“Go ahead, trade on your wretched looks. It means nothing.”
“Careful, Hallie, you’re not exactly a knotty stick, you know. Hypocrisy isn’t attractive. Also, what do you mean by that? I don’t trade on anything, much less my damned face, it’s absurd.”
“None of that is to the point.”
“And the point being?”
“Look at that grin on your sorry face—all vacuous and silly, like you’re so pleased with yourself. What sort of meeting did you go to? Who made you so happy? No, I see, you drank a lot, didn’t you? Gambled away our profits?”
“Perhaps a bit of brandy. I couldn’t gamble because we don’t have any profits yet.” He scratched his belly and leaned against the stall wall. “Delilah will try for another bite if you don’t stop rubbing her so hard. Use the sponge on her. I’m not about to say anything more about that.”