Unbefitting a Lady Read Free

at the heart of it.’
    Sir Nathan Samuelson strode forward, a sneer of contempt on his
face.
    Phaedra kept her hand on the horse’s neck, her gaze meeting Sir
Nathan’s unwaveringly. She would not be cowed by him. ‘And I should have known
if a horse was being mistreated, it would have been yours. The captain is doing
a poor job of introducing this animal to his new life.’ Might made right in Sir
Nathan’s view of the world, a philosophy he exercised quite regularly in his
stables and Phaedra suspected in his personal life as well. He was unmarried,
but not for a lack of trying. Last year he’d tried a suit with her sister, Kate,
and even more recently with Aunt Claire. Both had refused him on grounds of
moral and philosophical differences, to put it politely.
    ‘Step away, Lady Phaedra. I have miles to go and an order to
pick up from my tailor in town before I can be under way.’ He made an impatient
gesture with his hand and then paused with a smirk. ‘That is, unless you have
more pearls to sell?’ He made the remark sound nasty and a few of the men
gathered around to watch the scene laughed. He came towards her, intentionally
dwarfing her, crowding her with his size and breadth. She had a little height of
her own but Sir Nathan was of hearty country stock. ‘All your pearls are gone
except one.’ His voice was a low sneer. ‘The one right between your legs. Who
knows, for a good rub, I might give you the horse, show all of you Montagues
you’re not too good for the likes of me. We’re fellow peers of realm, after
all.’
    Phaedra stiffened, wanting to get away but having no exit. She
was trapped between Sir Nathan and the horse. ‘Having a title doesn’t make you a
peer of the Montagues. You aren’t fit to wipe our boots.’
    ‘You little bitch.’
    Sir Nathan lunged but his body never reached her. A strong hand
at his neck dragged him backwards and spun him around. ‘Didn’t your mother teach
you how to talk to a lady?’
    No sooner had Sir Nathan faced the newcomer, than the
newcomer’s fist landed squarely against Sir Nathan’s jaw, sending him staggering
into the assembled crowd. Phaedra had only a quick glimpse of her sudden
protector in the intervening moments, a dark-haired devil in a billowing white
shirt and the face of an avenging angel, handsome and yet raw with power. She
would not soon forget that face.
    Her avenger turned towards her, a gallant cavalier from a
storybook, his eyes alight with blue fire when he looked at her. ‘Are you all
right, miss?’
    ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ Phaedra managed to find her voice, a
most unusual occurrence to have lost it in the first place. But it wasn’t every
day a handsome stranger leapt to her defence.
    ‘Shall I punch him again for you?’ the stranger drawled,
watching Sir Nathan right himself with the help of friends.
    There was no chance to answer. Giles materialised, parting the
crowd with his broad shoulders. ‘That will do, I think. Get along with all of
you. There’s nothing more to see here.’ The crowd began to dissolve at the voice
of authority. One didn’t have to know he was the son of a duke to decide
obedience was the best option. Giles motioned for someone to take the chestnut
stallion and the throng around them thinned. But her hero remained.
    ‘This wasn’t the introduction I’d planned,’ Giles began. ‘But I
see the two of you have already met. Bram, this is my sister, Lady Phaedra
Montague. She’s the one I was telling you about. She’s been overseeing the
stables since old Anderson got hurt. Phaedra, this is Bram Basingstoke. He’ll
take over Tom Anderson’s duties until the man recovers.’
    Her hero was the new head groom? Phaedra mentally revoked his
hero status and squelched her disappointment. She’d hoped Giles had forgotten
all about the need to hire a replacement. She’d been having far too much fun
taking care of the stables over the winter. ‘I’m sure that’s not necessary,’ she
said in