Sport of Baronets Read Online Free Page B

did not turn to stone, and therefore you must not be an evil Gorgon.”
    â€œThat might be the kindest thing a Crosby has ever said to a Chandler.”
    He fumbled the hay rake, and it clattered to the floor. “Is it? And what is the kindest thing a Chandler ever said to a Crosby?” He stumbled to right the rake. When he stood again, his face was flushed.
    She blinked back at him. Her eyes were like a forest, dark about the pupils, then tawny and shading to a deep and verdant green.
    â€œI’m going to search his belongings,” she said, which was when Bart realized he had been staring at her. Just a bit.
    Well, it was only because he hadn’t seen her in a long time. One must study one’s foes to understand them. Or…something.
    â€œThat’s not an answer,” he muttered, pushing through the doorway to Northrup’s chamber after Hannah. Or maybe it was all the answer he deserved.
    A rude partition of weathered boards separated the head groom’s quarters from those of the stable boys. Within the space were arranged a bedstead and mattress. A pitcher and basin on a small side table. A trunk at the end of the bed.
    â€œCuriously sparse.” Bart lifted the lid of the trunk. Empty.
    â€œThis cannot be everything he owned,” said Hannah. “He has done a bunk.”
    â€œCome, now. Is that how young ladies talk in Newmarket?”
    â€œIt is how I talk when I realize that your groom has absconded with my horse.”
    Bart let the trunk lid slam. “I would light a burnt offering before the idol of your choice if you would only stop referring to Golden Barb as your horse.”
    â€œWell, he is my horse. Though my father’s name is with mine on the bill of sale, I am the one who paid for him.”
    â€œI received no payment.” Bart sat on the trunk lid. “Not that he was for sale. Because he wasn’t.”
    Trailing her fingers over the rough surfaces of the room, she sighed. “So I am the poorer by two hundred guineas, and you are the poorer by a colt.”
    â€œWho was to win me two thousand guineas next week.”
    â€œMe, I think.” Despite her grim expression, she managed a grudging twist of her lips.
    And then she stared at her gloved fingers, rubbing together tan-clad fingertips. “Ashes. Could they be? Do these look like ashes to you?”
    Bart lunged for her hand, grabbing it with more force than grace. “Ashes,” he agreed. “Northrup burned something—where? Atop the table?”
    â€œIn the basin, probably. Look how grimy it appears. Ah, here’s a flake of paper. Some document has been burned, though I cannot tell what it might have been.”
    â€œBurning a document next to a hayloft. Honestly .” Bart could not keep the disgust from his tone.
    â€œFoolhardy.” Hannah rubbed at her soiled fingertips.
    â€œHe’s not a fool. A fool could not have played at loyalty so well.” Bart felt grim. “No, he simply didn’t care whether he caused any damage.”
    That small residue of ashes drove away any hope that this was all a mistake. Or the work of footpads.
    â€œI wonder if Golden Barb did have a problem with his gait today,” Bart mused. “And if Northrup caused it. Everything he has told me recently is suspect.”
    â€œNo speculation.” Hannah caught his elbow and steered him from the room. “You said it to me; now I say it to you.”
    â€œNo speculation,” Bart repeated. As he again stared at the untidy hayloft, he felt as weary as he could ever remember. His hand found hers, tucked into his arm. Which of them was leaning on the other more?
    â€œYou may leave whenever you like, you know,” he said in a low voice. “I can send a maid or a stable boy to escort you home. You have lost only money, and most likely you will get it back.”
    â€œI can hardly leave now. My groom got knocked on the head. You cannot pretend