The Englor Affair by J.L. Langley Page B

around the blind corner. “Dru—”
    “I’m out of the way,” she said softly, and her hand touched his shoulder.
    Simon continued to gentle the bay. “Easy, girl.” Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted a dark blur and the clicking of horseshoes stopped.
    “Markham and Baymore.” Dru sounded like she was gritting her teeth.
    “Ah, Your Grace, up to mischief again I see,” a man chided. Leather creaked and boot heels hit the ground. “I assume this horse belongs to your friend?”
    “Yes. Give him to me,” Dru said, just as Simon got close enough to grab Cleo’s bridle.
    “Shh…” It took only seconds before she was standing in place allowing Simon to pet her nose. “Good girl.” Once he was certain she was calm, he turned.
    Dru held on to Cirilo, her other hand on her hip, glaring at two men. Both were tall and appeared to be peers of the realm. One wore a light gray coat and held the bridle of a big roan horse. He wasn’t much older than Simon, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair and a large nose, but not big enough to distract from his handsomeness. The other gentleman was as tall as the first but thinner. His short mousy brown hair curled around the brim of his tan hat. He had piercing hazel eyes but was otherwise quite plain looking.
    Expressionless, the first man studied Simon from top to bottom, sizing him up. There was such an air of spoilt aristocrat to him that Simon half expected the man to pull out a quizzing glass. After several seconds a slow smile spread across the lord’s lips and he bowed slightly. “Your Highness. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
    So the man recognized him. Simon dipped his head. “Please call me Colonel. And you are?”
    “Markham, the Earl of Markham. And this”—he indicated the thinner man—“is my associate, Lord Baymore.”
    Baymore bowed. “A pleasure, Colonel.”
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    The Englor Affair
    Markham glanced at Dru, then back to Simon. “I trust you and Her Grace are well?”
    “We’re fine. Thank you, milord,” Dru said dryly.
    Markham dipped his chin. “Good, good. You could’ve been seriously injured. People have been trampled to death by horses, you know. You’re very lucky.” He met Simon’s gaze. “Beautiful horse you have there, Your High—excuse me, Colonel.” He smiled and looked over at Cirilo.
    “Thank you. And thank you for bringing him back.”
    “Not a problem. Baymore and I were just turning onto the path by the lake when we saw him bolt out of the trees. I caught him easily enough, assuming we’d meet up with a horseless rider down the road. I see I was correct. Now if you will both excuse us”—he mounted his horse—“we’ve got to get going if we’re going to make it to the House of Lords on time.”
    “Thank you again, Lord Markham, Lord Baymore.”
    Baymore tipped his hat. “Glad to be of assistance, Colonel.” Completely dismissing Simon and Dru, he heeled his horse, taking off in a gallop toward Rotten Row.
    Markham followed.
    Dru bristled, huffing out a breath. “Pompous jackanapes.”
    Simon chuckled. They did seem a little self-absorbed, but no more than most men of their ilk. “They seemed nice enough.”
    Scoffing, she handed Cirilo’s reins to Simon. “They are two of the lords calling for moral reform.”
    He led her toward her horse, “Up you go,” and lifted her into the saddle. “Baymore must be a fairly new title. It doesn’t sound familiar.”
    “He bought his barony. He was in trade. I don’t know the specifics but I believe your mother was behind him getting his title.”
    That figured. The Baron probably held his mother’s gambling markers. “What happened to the old Earl of Markham?” Simon swung himself into his saddle and waited for Dru to join him.

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    “The old Earl took ill and died when you were fighting on Lorgania last summer.”
    She heeled her horse and led them toward Rotten Row. “It