Page 32 of The Rake's Revenge
“I did very much, at one time,” Dorian answered truthfully.
The boy’s eyes widened, thrilled at being privy to such an adult topic. “What happened?” he asked in awe.
Dorian cocked a brow at his unabashed interest. “It did not work out. Then she married your father.” He looked away, hoping that would be the end of it. He’d misjudged his companion.
As children do, the boy began to ramble on, unaware of just what sort of information he was imparting. “So, now you are friends again,” he said about Dorian and his mother. “Mother said Father was a dear friend of hers, too.”
What an odd thing for a wife to say of her husband, thought Dorian.
He was still ruminating over the comment when they finally arrived at the cottage and lean-to barn. The boy realized where they’d stopped.
“Why have we come here?” he asked, confusion knitting his brow.
Dorian didn’t reply, merely leading the boy around the cottage to find the farmer and his teenage son chopping wood.
“Good day!” Dorian greeted them with a raised hand. “I am Lord Kempton and this is Lord Coylton.”
“My, but you’ve grown!” the older man said to Archie. “I used ta see ye riding’ in front o’ yer da almost daily.”
Archie squirmed from side to side, as if unsure how to respond to the comment, so Dorian stepped in. “I was told you would be expecting us?”
“Aye! Me son, Angus, said ye’d be comin’.” The man’s grin was wide and friendly as he shooed his other son away. “Gae on, Freddie. Take ’em ’round.”
The boy set aside his axe, wiped his hands on his homespun shirt, and gestured for Dorian and Archie to follow him. They were led to the lean-to stable and, immediately, Archie froze at the scent of manure and horseflesh.
Anticipating such a thing might happen, Dorian was prepared. He stooped down to speak to the lad. “I brought you here to show you something. I know you do not like horses, but have you ever seen a new foal?” The boy shook his head, still confused, displeased, and unsure all at once. “It’s a wobbly little thing—all head and legs—smaller even than that great beast your mother seems to think is a dog.” The boy gave a reluctant chuckle. “You do not have to ride, you do not have to touch it, just take a look at the silly little creature.”
“I don’t have to go near it?” he asked, unease still bleeding into his tone.
“Not if you do not wish to; you have my word.”
After a few moments of deliberation, Archie took Dorian’s proffered hand and followed, half hiding behind his legs. Freddie waved them over with a crooked smile as he leaned against the old wooden fence. Dorian approached slowly, giving Archie time to adjust as he walked beside him.
The lad balked when the new mother mare lifted her roan head, turning her ears in their direction. In response, Dorian pulled an apple from the rucksack and offered it to her. She took it, and he rubbed her velvety nose, murmuring to her, “Be calm. We’ve just come to admire your beautiful baby.” She whickered appreciatively.
“We call ’er Maisie,” Freddie said. “She’s the gentlest mare in ta area. She even lets ma baby sista ride ’er, ’n’ she’s only four-years-old.”
The mare stepped to the side and Archie gasped when he saw the tiny foal curled up in the sweet, golden hay.
“Colt or filly?” Dorian asked, continuing to bribe the mare and purposefully keeping his attention away from Archie. If he was going to get his confidence up, then he knew the boy had to be the one to make the first move.
“Filly; born two days ago.”
“She’s rather late,” Dorian remarked; most foals were born earlier in the spring. She was a pretty one, though, roan, like her mother, with a dark mane and tail.
“We didna’ think the pregnancy took at first,” Freddie explained. Dorian listened and watched from the corner of his eye as curiosity slowly began to win out over fear, and Archie took a few hesitant steps forward to see the filly.
She stood on shaky legs, taking several seconds to steady herself. Curious, she wobbled over to them. Taking cues fromher mother, she was interested in the new, unfamiliar sights and smells of the visitors. Dorian continued to stroke the mare and watch Archie carefully.
“She’s smaller than Faye,” the boy said more to himself than Dorian. He watched what Dorian did and tentatively reached out to touch the filly’s nose. It sniffed and sneezed, making the boy jump back.
Dorian bit back a grin. “Try again,” he coaxed gently. “Move slowly. She’s a new baby. She has to learn what and who you are,” he spoke softly, as if to the mare, but addressed Archie. A few more bats of the filly’s large, expectant eyes, and the boy slowly held out his hand once more. She held still, snuffling his palm until he giggled, all the tension rapidly draining from his tiny frame. The filly, her curiosity sated, pulled her head back through the rail, whinnied, and bounced a few times before stumbling to the straw. Archie let out a laugh, and the mare turned to check on her foal.
“She is a funny little thing, isn’t she?” Dorian asked with a smile. “Not frightening at all?”
The boy shook his head. “She is like a puppy.”
“I suppose you are correct in some ways—a large puppy.” Dorian turned to Freddie, thanked him for his time, and handed him the sack of remaining food and a few coins in gratitude before they took their leave.
