After the Kiss by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online

Regent’s come calling.”
    “This is better than Prinny.”
    “Harry, say something to that boy of yours.”
    “I’m sorry, my dear, but in this instance I have to agree with Douglas.” The marquis pushed away from the table. “I’ve chatted with Mr. Waring on occasion, but to actually see him work…Come along, Tibby. Let’s go see what the master horse breeder has planned for today.”
    Douglas sped out of the room, but Isabel resumed pickingat the toasted bread she’d actually finished with five minutes ago. “I’m eating. And he’s a horse breeder, for goodness’ sake. He can wait.”
    “Are you certain you aren’t delaying because of the horse?” the marquis countered, shaking his graying brown head at her. “I would understand why. Stay here if you wish. I’ll send Zephyr home with Mr. Waring.”
    “I’m not—Oh, bother.” Frowning, she stood up. “Very well, then. Let’s go say hello to the illustrious Mr. Waring.”
    She could pretend it was indifference, but the reluctance was very real. It was just that Zephyr wasn’t the only reason for it. Luckily Douglas and her father were too occupied chatting about the next Derby races to notice her trepidation. Shaking out her shoulders, Isabel followed along behind them. It was one thing to be uncertain of her ground. Allowing Sullivan Waring to see that would be quite another.
    He was seated on the back of her father’s phaeton as they exited the house through the kitchen. Today he’d dressed less like a gentleman and more like a stableboy, his coat draped over a post and his shirtsleeves rolled halfway to his elbows. Isabel swallowed. She’d been struck before by his hard handsomeness, but taken altogether, he looked like one of the great Greek heroes about whom Homer had spun his tales.
    “Good morning,” he said, inclining his head and jumping to the ground. A strand of dark gold hair slanted across one light green eye.
    “Mr. Waring,” her father said, smiling as he offered his hand. “I see you’re a man of your word.”
    “I thought this might be a bit early,” Waring returned, shaking and releasing the marquis’ hand, “but it needs to be if I’m to deliver two training sessions each day in addition to my other responsibilities.”
    “Two?” Isabel blurted. “Each day?”
    “That’s the recommended routine,” Douglas supplied, eyeing Waring’s attire as though trying to commit it to memory. “Thirty minutes each, to start with. Isn’t that it, sir?”
    “It is.” Waring nodded, facing Isabel. “Shall we begin, then, my lady?”
    “Oh, smashing!”
    Wonderful . “No, Douglas,” she said forcefully. “I don’t want you stomping about and frightening everything on two or four legs.”
    “But you’ve—”
    “That’s a very good point,” her father put in. “You’re going to Parliament with me today, anyway.”
    “But I—”
    “Come along.” The marquis squeezed Isabel’s fingers. “Phipps is about, and what looks like half the grooms and stableboys. You won’t be riding today, and Phipps will keep an eye on things.”
    “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Papa.” She hoped he believed her, even with her hands shaking. Of course, he expected her to be unsettled around horses, and she was. They also provided a good excuse for nerves of another sort entirely. The game didn’t seem quite so much a game with her opponent looking straight at her.
    “That was handy,” Waring commented as her father and brother returned to the house.
    She took a breath, having to look up to meet his gaze. “I’m surprised you waited out here instead of climbing inside through a window or something.”
    He took a slow step closer, dust rising around his black boots on the bare ground. “Just keep in mind that I can climb through a window, anytime I choose.”
    So that was how they were going to play this game—bluffversus bravado. Except she wasn’t entirely certain that he was bluffing.
    Neither, though, was she. Or so she