Rebel Baron by Shirl Henke Read Free Book Online Page B

several potential customers for Reiver's colts. In the long run, that's a great deal more important than the purses we collect.”
           “But much as the British aristocracy is horse mad—and it surely is—there is hardly demand for thoroughbreds to justify such a large loan” she countered.
           “Once I have my breeding program established and barns, stables and fencing in place, fields planted for fodder and men trained to harvest and dry it, then I'll be ready to branch out, to purchase new breeding stock. How many carriages cross over London Bridge every day?”
           Miranda blinked at the unexpected question. ‘‘Quite a few, I would hazard.”
           “Nearly thirty thousand. Every jumped-up bookkeeper and tradesman aspires to join the ‘carriage class’ and stable his own horse or team of horses, whatever he can afford. Then there is the matter of draft animals for drayage and agriculture. I've investigated the costs of purchasing Scots and Flemish stock. A prime team of Clydes can command a handsome price.”
           Miranda nodded. She'd been stalling, taking his measure as he spoke. The light that burned brightly in his eyes now indicated the passion he felt for his plans. With sufficient capital behind him, she was certain he'd succeed. When she had shaken his hand, it felt firm and strong. He was no idler who hired others to do his work for him. Another good sign.
           “In all of this, you've not written or spoken of the Caruthers family home. Surely as the new baron, you would like your seat refurbished. I'm given to understand it was one of the loveliest manor houses in Surrey.”
           Visions of River Trails' burned-out shell flashed into his mind for an instant, overlaid with images of crumbling neglect at Rushcroft Hall. “Eventually, I would enjoy having a gracious home once more, but that is a luxury I'll forgo for the present,” he replied guardedly.
           “Most gentlemen of your class would think possessing a splendid manor house—and city house—the most pressing needs.”
           “I am not most gentlemen,” Brand replied levelly. “Holding balls and galas never held much appeal for me.”
           “But you do take pride in your family heritage.”
           “I took great pride in the Kentucky land that had been held by my family for generations. By English standards, four generations may seem a laughable span, but in Kentucky, it is a very long time. My great-grandfather cleared the land and planted the first crops himself.”
           “But he used slaves.”
           Ah, now we get to it, he thought with a grim smile. “He did. But as I suspect a well-informed woman of business such as you knows, slavery's been abolished in America.”
           “You have never owned a slave,” she stated, glancing down at the papers on her desk, sorting through a report which had nothing to do with his finances...and everything to do with whether or not she made him her offer.
           “You have me at a disadvantage, ma'am, knowing everything about me while I know nothing about you. And yet I'm the wily foreign adventurer and you're the widow lady. Shouldn't it be the other way about?”
           Miranda felt a smile tug at her lips and permitted it. “Touché, my lord. Perhaps it is time to explain my position.” She took a deep breath for courage, happy that Tilda had not laced her at all tightly this morning. “You are in need of a large amount of money to rebuild your ancestral estate and restore it to profitability. I am in need of a husband for my daughter.” Baldly put, but there it was. She studied his reaction as she added, “I believe we might discuss a mutually satisfactory way for both of us to achieve our goals.”
           Brand sat frozen in the clutches of the damnable leather monstrosity of a chair, too amazed to bolt to his feet and storm out of the