The Headmistress of Rosemere by Sarah E Ladd Read Free Book Online Page A

good-natured laughter. “By jove, good man, what happened to you? A mill gone poorly?”
    William forced a chuckle. “Afraid so.”
    Mr. Bley stepped closer, propped his hands on his hips, and studied William’s face. “Well, I’d hate to see the sorry bloke what tangled with you, to be sure. Heard you were a bit of a bruiser, Sterling. And see, here are the marks to prove it.”
    William tried to apply as light a tone to his voice as possible, although with every grin his lip throbbed and with every laugh his ribs ached. It was easy enough to blame his appearance on a sparring match not gone in his favor. “’Tis the price a bloke pays for a bit of fun, am I right?”
    Bley laughed, rich and deep.
    William pretended not to notice how the man assessed his coat. His boots. At least in that he could be confident.
    As if on cue, Lewis led Slaten from the stable. From the corner of his eye, William saw Bley’s expression transform from skepticism to greedy approval in mere seconds. William walked to the horse, took him by the bridle, and circled him around for a better view.
    Bley knelt down to take a close look at the bulging disfigurement on the animal’s lower leg. “So this is the injury that felled the mighty Slaten. Happened at Newmarket, did it not?”
    William smoothed Slaten’s glossy mane. “He was a length behind another horse going into a turn. That horse took a spill, and Slaten here took a tumble over him.” William rubbed the horse’s corded neck. “He’ll not race again, but I daresay his offspring will.”
    Bley circled the animal, pausing to lift a foreleg and look at the teeth. “And how did you come to own him?”
    “Won in a wager.”
    Bley chortled. “You don’t say.”
    “Indeed. When he came to my stable, he had already won at Weatherby’s and Staxton. But for all of his success, he was still young. I am of the belief that he was raced too early and with too little training.”
    Bley stepped back and crossed his arms across his chest. “I saw him race at Staxton.”
    William raised an eyebrow. “Did you, now?”
    “Bloody fast. Never seen anything quite like him. Tried to buy him myself at the time, but the owners would not part with him. Was shocked to hear about his tumble.”
    “I had never seen him race when I won him—had only his reputation to go on. Then the first race I entered him in, the accident happened.” William stopped short of revealing that he had every last farthing he owned invested in that race, and when his horse did not even finish, he had nothing left.
    The man looked around the grounds. “Where’s the mare?”
    William signaled Lewis, who led out the bay mare from another section of the stable, her stomach swollen, her gait slow.
    “How much longer until she foals?”
    Slaten tossed his black mane and sniffed the air, and William paused to steady him before responding. “No longer than a month.” He watched for any indication in the man’s expression as to whether he had any interest in speaking for the unborn horse. The sooner William could get a buyer and a down payment, the better—and safer—he would feel. “I’d say no more than two weeks.”
    “And your price?”
    William named the figure.
    Bley whistled low and nodded. “I’d want the foal weaned fromthe mother as soon as possible. I want the trainer of my choosing to get ahold of it early on.”
    William stepped back to give Bley room to circle the mare. Bley’s reputation as a horseman was legendary. William stood by silently as the man ran his hands down the legs, studied the face, the mouth, and did all manner of other assessments. He then returned to the stallion.
    After what felt like a span of time much longer than necessary, the man finally walked toward William. “You say this will be his first offspring?”
    William nodded. “Yes. He’s not been sired outside of Eastmore Hall. I have two other mares with foal.”
    Bley nodded. “I’ll consider it and get back with