Lyon's Bride: The Chattan Curse by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online

Christopher was so excited that he was having trouble putting his coat on. Neal helped and then opened the door. The boys fairly ran down the stairs.
    “Wait,” their mother warned them. “You know the rules.”
    Her sons came to a halt and stood like two racehorses anxious to take off out of the gate.
    “You must be gentlemen at all times,” Thea chided and, after locking the door, went down the stairs to take their hands.
    Neal followed, rather enjoying the boys’ excitement.
    On the street, Thea kept a firm hold on her sons. There was much activity, mostly neighbors sitting on the stoops and in the doorways of surrounding buildings. Christopher tried to gallop, and Jonny had to try it a step or two.
    Harry and Neal used to play that game of horses when they were the ages of Thea’s boys. Margaret had played too when the nanny would let her. They had spent hours at Morrisey Meadows, the family’s country estate, setting up jumps and then trotting or galloping over them.
    Funny, but it had been years since he’d thought of the good parts of his childhood.
    “Which way shall we go, my lord?” Thea asked.
    “My coach is at the end of the street. This one was too narrow for it to travel down,” Neal said, pointing to the right. He saw his coachman waiting for him. “Let them go,” he said to Thea. “Bonner is there waiting for them.” Bonner was the name of his coachman, and he already had a small audience of children around him.
    She ignored him, but her sons did not. They were both pulling on her now, anxious to have a look at his coach. She still held fast, until their excitement overcame them. They were pulling too hard, and when they were fifty feet from Bonner, she took Neal’s advice and let them go.
    They ran to the coach. Their first stop was Neal’s matched grays.
    The coach itself was Neal’s pride and joy. His father had designed it out of burled wood. The seats were covered with tufted red velvet. The overall vehicle was smaller than most coaches and very comfortable for town riding. It was so distinctive that his father had never bothered placing a coat of arms on the door. It was unnecessary. Everyone recognized the Lyon when he traveled.
    “They are horse mad,” Thea admitted to Neal, who fell into step beside her, “and I don’t know why, because they haven’t been around many. They’ve always been that way.”
    “We all are at that age,” Neal answered. “And remember, their mother was a bruising rider.”
    She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I did outride you on more than one occasion.”
    “Yes.” He paused a moment and then said, “How was your money stolen?”
    She looked to her sons. Bonner was telling the boys the horses’ names: “Blen and Cully.”
    “Why did you name them that?” Christopher wanted to know.
    “Lord Harry named them, laddies, after famous battles.”
    “He is the one in the Horse Guard, isn’t he, sir?” Jonny asked.
    “Aye, he is,” Bonner answered.
    “Don’t worry about them,” Neal told Thea. “They are in good hands. Bonner will have them feeding the horses molasses bits.”
    She crossed her arms. He sensed she wanted to tell him that how her money was stolen was none of his business. And then she surprised him by saying, “I didn’t leave them alone if that is what you suspect. I would never do that. Those boys mean more to me than my own life. When I received Sir James’s request for an interview, I went to see if Mrs. Hadley upstairs would watch them. She wasn’t at home, but her sister-in-marriage was. I didn’t know Mrs. Gray, and now I feel foolish. Mrs. Gray’s husband had been a vicar. I assumed . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was not happy with herself. “I didn’t know the vicar had been a thief and a drunkard, two traits that have obviously been carried on by his widow. When I returned home after our interview, I discovered the door was open and the boys left alone.”
    “And the box