A Ravishing Redhead by Jillian Eaton Read Free Book Online Page A

with mousy brown hair and a button nose, opened the door a few scant inches. “Your Grace?” she said.
    “Yes, what is it?” he asked after an impatient glance down at his pocket watch. How had he not noticed the time? It was a three quarters past eleven. He should have met Margaret in the front parlor almost an hour ago. Going to his desk he shrugged into a dark green jacket he had left on the chair and absently tightened his cravat. His wife hated anyone who was late for anything. She was not going to be very happy with him. Perhaps he should stop by the kitchen to get her a pastry, or pick a few flowers from the front garden, or even – 
    “Your Grace?”
    Henry faced the maid, a faint scowl on his face. “What do you need?”
    Looking away, she mumbled something under her breath he couldn’t quite hear.
    “What? What did you say? Speak up… er… Angela, is it?” he asked. Margaret had agreed to hire a bevy of new house staff one the condition that he learn all of their names. It was an unusual request, but one Henry was doing his best to adhere to.
    Angela fiddled with the stiff collar of her uniform as she said, “You asked me to keep an eye on the Duchess, Your Grace, especially if she went out unattended and… well...”
    “And what?” he said sharply.
    Angela’s eyes filled with tears. “She took out that mean stallion, Your Grace. The one you said none of us was to ever touch. Petey tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen and there was a deer that jumped plain out of no where and Lady Margaret fell –”
    Henry did not wait for the maid to finish. Shoving past her, he sprinted for the stables.
     
    The last thing Margaret remembered was asking Finnegan quite nicely for a canter. Then there had been a flash of brown, a fearful whinny, and she had woken up on the ground with a crowd of people hovering over her.
    “What happened?” she asked weakly.
    “That nasty beast spilled you off, he did!” said one of the new stable lads shrilly. Holding his cap in his hands he twisted it like he was ringing out an old rag. “It was a deer, m’lady. Spooked ‘em and you went through the air like a sack o’potatoes.”
    Margaret rather felt like a sack of potatoes. Gingerly pulling herself into a sitting position, she probed at the source of the pounding in her head. When her fingers came away sticky with blood she paled, but refused to panic. Her body felt horribly sore, although nothing was broken since she could wiggle all of her extremities. If she came away from the fall with nothing more than a bump on the head then she would consider herself lucky indeed. “Petey, be a dear and go fetch a pale of cold water from the kitchen. Fresh and clean, if you please. And has anyone seen Finnegan? I don’t want him to run in the road. Poor thing, it wasn’t his fault. I believe a deer spook—”
    “MARGARET? MARGARET! WHERE ARE YOU?”
    Oh dear. It was Henry and he didn’t sound at all pleased, which meant someone must have told him what had happened. Margaret narrowed her eyes at the servants hovering over her and they all had the good grace to look the other way. “Cowards,” she muttered under her breath.  
    “Angela went to fetch the Master,” said one of the cook maids who had seen the fall happen from inside the kitchen. “It was her fault.”
    Hissing out a breath in frustration, Margaret waved her hand. “Get on, the lot of you, unless you want to be yelled at as well.”
    They scurried away like mice, leaving Margaret to face her irate husband alone. Grimacing, she tried to stand but dizziness overtook her and she decided the grass was not such a bad place to sit after all. Crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her hands behind her, Margaret waited for Henry to reach her. It was not a long wait.
    He came charging around the side of the barn like a bull, his hands clenched into fists and his nostrils flared. She could tell the instant he spotted her because his upper lip curled