To Win a Viscount (Daughters of Amhurst) Read Online Free

boy sent to wake the earl and drag what will undoubtedly be his disgruntled arse down here.”
    She bristled under his touch, though whether it was from his coarse language or his tight grip, he was unsure. He was, however, certain he had gotten his point across. Her jaw flexed as she lifted her gaze to meet his.
    “I mean no harm or foul play. I simply wish to ride.”
    And he simply wished to raise racehorses. But life was never that simple.
    “And what makes you think you can ride the earl’s best mare?”
    She jerked her arm from his grasp and lifted off her hat. A tumble of dark chestnut curls spilled over her shoulders and down the front of her jacket. She was beautiful, an incarnation of an ancient goddess hell-bent on distracting him from his chores and delaying his morning routine.
    “Because I am Lady Albina Beauchamp. My sister is the Countess of Amhurst. Shall I drag her arse here to verify my claim?”
    A supposed daughter of an earl stood before him with a look of superior indignation plastered across her heart-shaped face—complete with a very un-ladylike oath still fresh on her tongue. An overwhelming desire to taste the wry twist of her lips took hold of him, but reason, and a good nudge of the horse’s snout into his back, had him regaining control of his better judgment.
    He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance. “You could be the Princess of Wales, my lady, and you would still not have the authority to be here.” He had his orders—the earl had been clear. No one was allowed to touch the horses save for the earl, the jockey, and Edmund. The countess’s sister was not one of those three.
    “I have every authority to ride the earl’s horses. I am a guest. At Plumburn.”
    “And yet, the earl employed me to make certain no one outside of him, Mr. Abbot, and myself touch this horse, let alone ride it.”
    “An oversight, I am certain. Surely he would allow the countess to ride the bay.”
    “I think we both know that is not true.”
    “I know no such thing.”
    “Oh?” he asked. “Then why did you not simply state your presence and ask to ride the mare, instead of sneaking around like a two-bit thief in men’s clothing?” The nostrils of her little nose flared. Her mouth opened to lash him, but he denied her the rant by continuing his. “Do you know why the earl has forbidden anyone to ride this horse, my lady?”
    “Because he wishes to race it at Emberton?” A caustic tone blanketed her words.
    Edmund blinked. “Well…yes.”
    “Perfect. Because I wish to ride her at Emberton.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Surely he had not heard her correctly. She had said something monstrously profound.
    “I wish to race this mare at the derby.” She interlaced her fingers and stared down at her hands. “The earl’s jockey is unwell.”
    “Unwell?” Mr. Abbot had shown no signs of illness the day prior. A lithe and nimble man, he had appeared the epitome of health on his last ride.
    “Quite unwell, I assure you. And unable to train for the derby, which is why I seek to serve as his replacement.”
    Despite his determination to hold it back, a loud, raucous burst of laughter shot from his mouth. “You cannot be serious.”
    “But I am.” She lifted her head, her eyes narrowed. “Now, if you would excuse me—”
    “No.” He shifted to stall her advance. “You propose the impossible.”
    “I assure you I can ride. But first, you have to allow me to touch the horse.”
    Edmund shook his head. “The earl has not given his consent.”
    “A minor technicality.”
    He peered through a swirl of dust motes at the uncertainty haunting her eyes. “But he has not said yes,” he said, knowing full well he had caught the truth in her admission.
    Her head tilted to the side, the shadows dancing over her dark tresses. “He…has not made a final decision.”
    “And you think stealing one of his prized horses will sway him to agree to this ridiculous idea of yours?”
    “I am not