Duke William’s lip curled. He turned the quirt in his hands. “Your little stallion has a terrible temper.”
Lark thrust her chin out. “He does not,” she said. “What he has is a good memory.”
The Duke scowled. “You would be wise, brat, to mind your own memory. Remember to whom you’re speaking.”
A retort sprang to Lark’s lips, but she thought of the Duke’s threat to her family, and she bit it back.
“Yes,” William said, with a cold smile. “I see you understand.” He slapped the quirt into his palm. “You may have passed your first Ribbon Day, but you have other tests facing you. And with an unruly stallion.”
He took a single step closer.
“One failure,” William murmured. His eyes were like black ice. “Just one, Miss Hamley, and he’s gone.”