“
Captain Phelan,” Amelia asked, noticing the direction of his gaze, “what do you think of the change in Albert?”
“Nearly inconceivable,” Christopher replied. “I had wondered if it would be possible to bring him from the battlefield to a peaceful life here.” He looked at Beatrix, adding gravely, “I am in your debt.”
Beatrix colored and smiled down at her plate. “Not at all.”
“My sister has always had a remarkable ability with animals,” Amelia said. “I’ve always wondered what would happen if Beatrix took it in her head to reform a man.”
Leo grinned. “I propose we find a really revolting, amoral wastrel, and give him to Beatrix. She would set him to rights within a fortnight.”
“I have no wish to reform bipeds,” Beatrix said. “Four legs are the absolute minimum. Besides, Cam has forbidden me to put any more creatures in the barn.”
“With the size of that barn?” Leo asked. “Don’t say we’ve run out of room?”
“One has to draw the line somewhere,” Cam said. “And I had to after the mule.”
Christopher looked at Beatrix alertly. “You have a mule?”
“No,” she said at once. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but the color seemed to leave her face. “It’s nothing. That is, yes, I have a mule. But I don’t like to discuss him.”
“I like to discuss him,” Rye volunteered innocently. “Hector is a very nice mule, but he has a weak back and he’s sickle-hocked. No one wanted him after he was born, so Aunt Beatrix went to Mr. Caird and said--”
“His name is Hector?” Christopher asked, his gaze locked on Beatrix.
She didn’t answer.
A strange, severe sensation took over Christopher’s body. He felt every hair lift, felt every distinct pulse of blood in his veins. “Did his sire belong to Mr. Mawdsley?” he asked.
“How did you know?” came Rye’s voice.
Christopher’s reply was very soft. “Someone wrote to me about it.”
Lifting a glass of wine to his lips, Christopher tore his gaze from Beatrix’s carefully blank face.
He did not look at her for the rest of the meal.
He couldn’t, or he would lose all self-control.
”
”