32

 

The horses jumped about in their pens after sharing the water trough. Justain took Derbudon’s stiff brush and beat his pants free of mud. This place had become a second home to Justain, and busying himself out here was a great way to keep from Madeline and her falsehoods. Those jade eyes wouldn’t fool him again.

Jonathan Winton hustled through the doors of the stable.

“My ally is back. What news of blessed Trenchard do you bring?”

“Some of the furnishings have arrived.” He dropped a large sack onto the floor. “Sorry for the delay, but it took three days to get back on track from trying to root out Barrow.”

Justain shook his steward’s hand. “Winton, I need something to lift my spirits. Tell me you know where he is and my men are following his every move.”

His copper eyes lowered. “I can’t, my lord, but Dorset is running well. The new tenants are preparing the land for winter melons.”

Justain gripped the bristles so tight, he surely strangled the handle. It wasn’t fair Barrow remained free, and Justain remained a prisoner of Hampshire.

His steward untied the tan sack. “I think Devon is proud of your care of the orphans. The renovations to the orphanage have been finished. The children love the book room.”

“Good.” Someone should enjoy Justain’s earnings.

“I ran into Mr. Montgomery in Devon. He’s lookin—”

“I don’t want to hear of my evil cousin. Jodest Montgomery is seeking new pockets.” He pounded his fists along the stall, spooking Derbudon. Justain rubbed the horse’s ear to calm it. “Bully. Hope he’s broke and miserable.”

Winton yanked one of Justain’s favourite saddles and his long mud boots from the bag.

He took the perfectly worn leather implements from Jonathan’s hands and began stripping Derbudon. “Nice of you to remember.”

“Lady Devonshire sent a note and insisted that I bring you these from Devon.”

Justain dropped the saddle. “You take orders from her now?”

Jonathan picked it back up, dusting it with a handkerchief. “Well, your wife is my countess.” He handed it to Justain. “You seem upset, my lord.”

He snatched the saddle from the outstretched hands.

His steward wrinkled his forehead and craned his red mop to the thatch roof. “I thought it was a reasonable request. Her request didn’t seem out of the ordinary.”

“No, she’ll kill you with kindness while her father dives in with his knife.”

“Sir?”

“She wanted me to believe that she’s different. It’s one of the faces she possesses.”

Jonathan shook his head. “That’s not what this was.”

“Winton, don’t protect her. She reminded you of her title! Finally showing her true colours.” He attempted to belt the horse’s girth, but his hands slipped. He thrust the saddle aside.

“No, it was a simple note, and she even thanked me for watching over the two of you during our travels to Hampshire.”

“What’s she up to? What’s she doing?” Justain rubbed the throbbing vein in his neck. He didn’t mean to let his temper get away from him, but Madeline’s betrayal raged like flames in his gut. If Athena had reared from his fumbling, the filly couldn’t hurt him worse. What a fool he was to let down his guard and allow the blasted girl into his heart.

“My lord, she thought that you’d be more comfortable with your own things.”

“I don’t care what they do or how they try to coerce. I’ll not alter my plans. She’ll be sent to Innesfrey. I’ve made my decision.”

Jonathan glared at him. “What’s the matter with you, Justain?”