My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand Read Free Book Online

sight.
    â€œIn here, my lord,” he said as he swung open the doors of the drawing room, using his left arm.
    Inside the room, his father sat behind an ornate wooden desk, his mother, Gertrude, standing behind him. Her hand rested on Lord Dudley’s shoulder as if they were posing for a portrait. His little sister, Temperance, was on the couch, playing with her knights-and-ladies doll set.
    â€œGiffy!” she said when she saw him enter the room. Tempie was the only one in the world who could get away with calling him Giffy.
    â€œHi, Curly,” G answered, for Tempie had the curliest blond tresses in all of England.
    â€œAh, son,” Lord Dudley said. He motioned to a woman standing in the corner, Tempie’s nurse, who immediately took hold of the little girl’s hand and led her from the room. Tempie waved awkwardly as she balanced her dolls and held her nurse’s hand. “Thank you for joining us with such haste.”
    â€œFather,” G answered with a slight bow of his head, althoughnow he knew something must be wrong, because “joining with haste” was the best compliment his father had given him in two years. (His previous compliment had been in recognition of “keeping to the background” when Rafael Amador, the emissary from Spain, was visiting.)
    â€œWe have some excellent tidings for you,” his father continued. Gertrude stood a little taller at this. “And for your future happiness.”
    Uh-oh, thought G. Future happiness was always code for—
    â€œYou have grown into a fine young man, and a stout, er, stallion,” his father said. “We may not have a handle on controlling the equestrian situation, but this minor daily divergence from humanity does not preclude you from leading a relatively normal life, nor will it strip you of the rights and privileges afforded any nobleman.”
    First of all, G was annoyed that neither of his parents could tell it like it was and use the phrase “horse curse,” instead referring to it as his “equestrian condition” or a “minor daily divergence from humanity” or some such nonsense. But the more worrisome part of his father’s speech was the bit about the “rights and privileges afforded any nobleman.” Because this could only mean—
    â€œMarriage, son,” Lord Dudley said. “Marriage to a well-vetted and—as far as can be anticipated without being tested—fertile young lady, of excellent lineage and equally verifiable family connections.”
    G’s worst fears come true. “Wow, Father. Fertile and well vetted? You make it sound so very romantic.”
    At this point, Lady Gertrude moved her hand from her husband’s shoulder and placed it on the back of his neck, as if to prove a showing of such ardent affection was indeed possible in forced marriages. “Darling boy, if left to your own devices, I fear you would never marry.”
    â€œI thought that fact was already established and agreed upon,” G said. A month after he’d first begun to turn into a horse, he’d overheard his mother lament to his father that no self-respecting lady would want a half horse for a husband. And then his father had said his chances would’ve been better had he been a horse both day and night, and skipped the human part entirely. Then perhaps his parents could sell him and receive some compensation for all their trouble.
    G had gone out and slept in the barn after that.
    Now, in the drawing room, Lord Dudley shook off his wife’s hand as if he were shooing away a pesky insect. “It is my wish for all of my children to marry.”
    â€œWhy? You don’t need heirs from me,” G said. “I’m second son.”
    â€œWhich is why I have invested the last fortnight securing your happiness—”
    â€œYou mean, arranging for me to wed a perfect stranger,” G interjected. “Well, thanks but no