Princess Charming (Legendary Lovers 1)

He would shape his destiny by sheer force of will if need be, but in the end he would make Maura love him.

Situated between Newmarket Heath and the village of Cavendish, the Collyer Stud had the advantage of being close to the racing downs and annual bloodstock sales of Newmarket, yet boasted rich grass pastureland that was ideal for horsebreeding.

Charming streams and roads dotted with poplars and beeches laced the undulating, green countryside, where timber-framed thatched cottages mingled with the grand estates of the Suffolk nobility, occasionally interspersed with cupolas and turrets of various studs and stables.

The Collyer Stud had a quiet beauty all its own, Maura had always thought. Normally she relished the peace and tranquility of her home, but on this particular occasion, six long days after her retreat from London, she gave little thought to the loveliness. She and Gandy had both been up since well before dawn, encouraging a fractious mare through a difficult birth.

They had just stepped outside the stall and were now observing over the half door. Twenty minutes ago, the tiny black foal they’d named Noble Prince after his sire’s champion line had stood on its long spindly legs and had successfully begun nursing.

Despite her relief, however, despite the fact that the miracle of birth never failed to awe her and watching precious young foals always raised her spirits, Maura felt drained to the bone. Even so, she welcomed the weariness. Upon arriving home, she’d thrown herself into her work, hoping to make herself so exhausted that she would cease mourning her loss of Ash.

Gandy appeared to be growing more and more concerned for her, though. Tall and wir

y, his hair peppered with gray, her longtime stable master still had a spring in his step that belied his nearly sixty years of age. He was the closest thing Maura had to a father since her own father’s passing. Actually she thought of Gandy more like a dear uncle, despite the differences in their fortune and stations.

His rugged, weathered face was frowning now as he shifted his attention from the weak mare to her. “Ye should seek yer own bed now, Miss. I can deal with the young ’un and her mama from here.”

Maura glanced out the window of the foaling barn. The angle of the sun suggested that it was early afternoon. “It is broad daylight, Gandy. I won’t be able to sleep until dark.”

He made a face. “If ye won’t turn in and lie yerself down for a nap, then take yerself back to the manor. Ye should eat something. Ye missed yer breakfast and dinner.”

“So did you.”

“But my old bones can get by on scant victuals. Please, Miss Maura.”

“Very well, I will go.” She had been resting her arms on the door and now pushed away. Before she turned, however, Gandy spoke again.

“ ’Tisn’t my place to say, but p’raps ye should return to London. Ye aren’t happy here. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

She was indeed fiendishly unhappy. Three days of heavy rain had darkened her mood even further. Yet she forced a smile. “I will be fine.”

“Well, for my sake I wish ye would heed me. Yer papa would have me head to see ye now. He’s surely looking down from heaven and cursing me.”

“Papa never cursed, Gandy.”

“Not in yer hearing, no, but he could swear a wicked streak if he had a ken to.”

His observation won a more genuine smile from her, a smile that stayed with her as she made her way down the aisle to the pump.

Her amusement faded as she scrubbed her hands and arms and removed the thick apron that had protected her gown. But at least the dreary weather had let up, Maura thought as she left the barn and trudged toward the manor. The afternoon was growing warm with bright spring sunshine, a welcome change from the recent downpours.

When she grew closer, she noticed a carriage in the stableyard. Her spirits sank when she recognized Priscilla’s barouche. Wondering what had brought her stepmother calling, Maura let herself in by the back door, where she traded her half boots for shoes. She still was not at all presentable for company, though, certainly not by Pris’s standards, and so she considered going up to her bedchamber to change her gown.

She was rather surprised when Priscilla intercepted her at the back stairs—and taken aback at the thoroughly amiable tone of her greeting.

“There you are, my dear,” Pris said, smiling broadly. “I should have known you would be out in the barns. I trust the new foal is healthy?”

“Yes, although the mare had a difficult time dropping. What brings you here, Priscilla?” Maura asked warily.

“Why, I wanted to report the glad tidings to you myself. Lord Deering has left the country! And before that, he made a public apology to your late father in the papers!”

Maura exhaled slowly. Katharine had sent her a copy of Deering’s retraction, but she hadn’t yet heard of his departure and had been almost afraid that it wouldn’t happen.

“That was Beaufort’s doing, was it not? And you are the reason Beaufort intervened. I cannot thank you enough, dearest Maura.”

“You needn’t thank me, Priscilla. I acted for Papa’s sake.”

“Well, I am beside myself with joy. I confess”—Pris lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“I found Deering’s public humiliation immensely satisfying.”