Prometheus allowed him to touch his forehead but he got restless again – forcing Tim to curl a lock of his mane around his fingers to keep him from charging toward the open stable doors.
“You should ride him,” Michael suggested.
“Is that a challenge?” Colin asked; excitement heating his blood.
“No, I simply think that you may be the best man to tame Prometheus for me. I wish to have both horses in the race by summertime.”
“I will be happy to help you.” He nodded in Tim’s direction. “Saddle him.”
Tim grinned. “Right away, my lord.”
They stepped out of the stables while the horses were being saddled and Colin asked the question that had been burning on his mind all morning. “How long ago did the Duke of Murrendale pass on?”
“A year and some weeks ago,” Michael replied. His furrowed brow suggested that he was concerned about his sister-in-law.
Colin wondered if it had something to do with the conversations he had overheard the day before. He knew almost nothing for certain, but he was surehe had heard Imogen's name and a certain Bagshire mentioned. He wished to askMichael about itbut it would have been inappropriate.
Tim led Prometheus out and handed Colin his reins which temporarily took his mind off thoughts of Imogen. He ran a careful hand over the horse’s forehead.
“He is full of promise, that one,” Tim said when he returned with Poseidon.
“Indeed, he is,” Michael said. “You have quite the task ahead of you, Colin.” He mounted Poseidon with ease while Prometheus resisted Colin.
When he was finally able to mount, he felt quite triumphant. He had always been good at taming horses. “There,” he patted the horse’s crest. “All you need is a gentle hand.” As though he could understand him, Prometheus snorted. Colin spurred him into a full gallop.
They ran the horses for a while before slowing to a trot. Prometheus snorted and sounded pleased. Colin smiled.
“What happened to the duke?” he asked. Imogen had greatly captured his interest and he wished to know all he could about her, for she had plagued his thoughts since he saw her the night before.
Michael gave him a look that suggested he was aware of his interest in his sister-in-law. “Influenza,” he answered. “The last year has been most difficult for her. I cannot fathom losing Emily in such a manner and at such a young age.”
Did she love her husband? Colin wondered. During breakfast, she had been very quiet while her sister had talked animatedly about everything. Was she naturally austere or had her loss brought on the perceived trait?
“I cannot imagine it either,” Colin said in response to Michael's statement.
“It was a love match, you see,” Michael continued. “She was his world as much as he was hers. Emily and I met at a ball they hosted in London.”
Colin frowned, irrational jealousy rising from his chest. The strange feeling perplexed him. The duke was dead and he hardly knew his widow, yet something turned within him at the mere mention of their love.He was grateful when he heard hoofbeats behind them. A rider approached them and Michael appeared to know him. He removed his hat and greeted them.
“This is my steward, Mr. John Bailey,” Michael introduced. “My cousin, the Marquess of Wingham.”
Colin recognized Michael's need to introduce him with his title. Mr. Bailey was a subordinate, and propriety demanded that he be treated with respect.
The steward bowed slightly from atop his mount then said to Michael. “There is a matter that requires your immediate attention, my lord.”
“What is it?” Michael asked with a scowl.
“Some of the tenants refused to pay their rent until they spoke with you.”
“This does require my attention,” Michael murmured. “Would you mind carrying on without me?” he asked Colin.
“Of course not. Prometheus and I have become friends.” He stroked the horse’s mane for emphasis, to which he responded by whinnying and swishing his tail.
With a nod, Michael rode off with Mr. Bailey and Colin spurred Prometheus towards the lake, his most beloved place on the estate.He used to splash in the water while Michael remained at the banks, examining the flora.
When he arrived, he was pleased to find it just as enthralling as the last time he saw it. He dismounted and led Prometheus to a tree, where he tied him. He didn't trust him not to flee.
“Oh, come now,” he said when Prometheus protested by digging his hoof into the ground. “I shan’t be long. There is an old friend here that I must see.”