To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

“But he is coming?” asked Elizabeth. It might be odd to others how close Elizabeth and Oliver were, but it never gave Carver any pause. Oliver acted as much like a brother to Elizabeth as Carver did himself. Except, Oliver had probably been a better brother to Elizabeth over the past three years than he had. Oliver had certainly spent more time with her.

“Yes, he will be here. And if I know Olly, he’ll pop in at the most inconvenient time.” Most likely at eight o’clock in the morning.

Elizabeth smiled. “That does sound like him.” But then she picked back up her letter and continued her reading.

A glance out the window at the bright morning outside reminded him that he had a woman to find. “If you all will excuse me, I believe I’ll go find Miss Bellows.”

Carver walked out the front door and his boots thudded hard against the cobblestone drive. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that around every corner, he would find Claire, waiting to jump out and surprise him as she had done hundreds of times during their long and close friendship. Which was ridiculous seeing as how the woman died three years ago. And yet, his mind held on to her as if she were no further away than an arm’s reach.

Was Robert right? Had he not accepted yet that she was dead? A week ago, Carver would have scoffed at the man for suggesting it. After all, he had a successful and busy life in London. But the more he thought about it, the more he saw the merit in it. Which is precisely why he needed to take a good beating from a long ride. He didn’t want to think about what Robert had said or what Claire had smelled like or how the thought of returning to London made him feel empty.

Was there nowhere he could find peace? Certainly not in his family home, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, not in his house in London either. Yes—he needed a good ride. Carver considered asking Daphney if they could take their ride another day. He didn’t feel like reining in his horse to keep pace with hers.

He walked into the stables at a quick pace. At first glance, he didn’t see Daphney. He tried not to think the worst. She had given him her word that she would not run away in the night. But then, how much is one supposed to rely on the word of a criminal known for conning gentlemen?

Carver shook his head and continued into the stables, walking the familiar path to his horse’s stall. He patted the snouts of two mares who hung their necks over the wooden stall doors and noted that Lucy—his sister’s white and cream spotted horse—would be the perfect docile ride for Daphney. Where was she anyway? Most likely exploring the grounds before their ride. If that were true, he might actually have enough time to take Thunder for a quick ride before she ever knew he was gone. Except for one crucial problem.

Carver stopped just in front of Thunder’s stall. Thunder’s empty stall. Where the devil was his horse?

Just as he turned around, the head groom, John, came running to his side. “My lord!” He was slightly out of breath from running back into the stable. “I’d hoped that you were out riding Thunder.”

Well, blast.

“Do you mean you don’t know who took out my horse?”

The man’s mouth pulled into a thin white line. He was clearly fearing for his position. “N-no, my lord. When I came out this morning to tend to the horses, Thunder was gone. I assumed your lordship had gone for an early ride since his saddle was missing as well.”

That only left one person. Daphney. The blasted minx had nipped off with his horse! He wished she had taken the two thousand pounds rather than his favorite horse. And besides, there was no way the woman could hold the massive hunter. The beast was spunky and restless and never let anyone near him besides Carver and the groom. A heavy, familiar dread settled over him. He felt sick.

“Saddle up The Gentleman, John.”

John bowed quickly and ran off to saddle the duke’s horse. The Gentleman wasn’t nearly as fast as Thunder, but he was the next best thing. And Daphney had at least an hour head start which meant that Carver needed every bit of speed he could get if he were going to find her. He only hoped he would find her in one piece.

But then the sound of pounding hooves drew closer outside of the stables and then came to a halt. Carver jogged out of the stables and relief flooded him when he found Daphney sitting proudly atop his large black hunter. She wore a simple olive dress under her wool cloak. The hood was down and the cloak billowed in the wind. Her hair was tied back in a nearly undone knot at the back of her head. She smiled at him, mockingly. “Good morning, dearest.”

Relief was replaced with wrath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He stepped forward and took hold of Thunder’s bridle. The horse tossed his head against Carver’s hand, breathing heavily.

She smiled bigger, clearly not deterred by the ice in his tone. “I should think it was obvious.” She leaned over patted Thunder’s glistening black mane. A single lock of hair tumbled in front of her face. “Proving that I can saddle and mount a horse all on my own.” She smiled and sat back up. “And the fact that I’ve been out riding this big prancer for the past hour should convince you that I know how to keep my seat.” He refused to be drawn in by her twinkling eyes. She could have been hurt.

“You were supposed to wait for me. It was incredibly thoughtless of you to go gallivanting off on a horse that is much too strong for you without so much as a word as to where you were going.”

Her head kicked back. Surprise clouded her eyes and then was quickly replaced by a dangerous look. “I suggest, my lord,” her tone holding its own reprimand, “that you swallow your spleen before you attempt to rattle me off any further. As you can well see, I am quite capable of handling a strong horse.” That’s what Claire had thought, too. “Now, if you are quite finished acting the part of overbearing gudgeon, we can get on with our rid

e.”

Any other time, he would find her blazing fury attractive. At this moment, he wanted to throttle her. Why would she not listen? He needed her to listen.

“Fine. We can go just as soon as you get down from Thunder. I’ve asked the groom to have another horse saddled. You may ride that mount instead.” Just then John exited the stables holding the reins of The Gentleman—his father’s light brown gelding. Carver blinked and tried to hold back his surprise at the now fat horse. When had that happened?

“He’s ready, my lord,” said John. “Shall I take him to the mounting block?”

“Yes, thank you, John. And replace that saddle with a side-saddle if you will.”

But when he looked back at Daphney, he saw a sharp spark in her eyes. She smiled, only adding to the blaze threatening to engulf her. “No, John.” She said, never looking away from Carver. “I thank you for your concern, but I plan to continue on this horse.” Her brow twitched in a challenge.

“No, she will not, John.” The words slipped through his teeth, slow and precise. “She will ride The Gentleman.” Carver had been considering having John saddle up Lucy for Daphney to ride since he knew that his father’s fat horse would likely be more than dull. But now—well, now he would make her ride the chubby horse as penance.