Page 30 of A Single Obsession

Perched on the front of his chair, he leaned over the edge of the box, his eyes fixed on the arena. As he glanced to his side, he noted Eliza sat in the same position, and his nose twitched with amusement. She must have felt his gaze on her, because she glimpsed at him for a few seconds and smiled before returning her attention to the performance of The Tyrant Saracen and the Noble Moor.

When it was over, Eliza turned to him, her eyes wide with wonder.

“What magnificent animals—and so intelligent.”

He was about to agree when Frances sniggered. “Intelligent? They are dumb beasts, Elizabeth. Well-trained, but dumb. Next, you will tell me they have feelings.”

A spark appeared in Eliza’s eyes. “But they do. I believe God made animals with the ability to think and feel. If a donkey could express its feelings when God opened its mouth, then I’m sure a horse could do the same.”

Frances and Miss Whitlow looked at each other as if they thought Eliza was mad, but Beau knew what she was talking about. He struggled to remember many Bible stories, but he recalled the tale of Balaam’s donkey, because it had stuck in his mind because of its oddity—that a donkey should see an angel before a man.

Beau grinned. “Balaam was the foolish one, not the donkey.”

Eliza turned toward him, her face wreathed in smiles, delighted he was familiar with the story. “Yes, indeed. It pays to listen to animals.”

Her eyes flitted over the arena. “Is that how they perform such marvels? By talking and listening to the horses and creating some kind of bond? To stand on the back of a horse without holding on is one thing, but to stay on whilst it gallops around and then jump to another, going at the correct speed, is nothing short of incredible.”

Beau’s eyes shone in response. “Getting the horses to move at the same speed is the straightforward part. I reckon I could achieve that. If you know your horses, and they know you, it would be possible. My bays are so used to pulling together, I think they would run in time with each other for me. The tricky bit is the stability. I believe there is some magic in riding around the ring that helps. I think I could do it—if I could keep my balance.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Frances. “You couldn’t possibly perform like that. Why would you even want to?”

Beau scowled at his sister. “I bet I could.” He pressed his mouth into a firm line that dared her to contradict him.

“You’re on.”

Templecombe’s words drew all eyes to him. “I bet you ten guineas you can’t do it.”

Beau stared at his cousin. His first thought was that it was madness, but then the idea took root. Could he do it? Did he trust his horses enough? Did he have faith in his own sense of balance?

He glanced at Anthony, who shrugged his shoulders.

If Ant wasn’t sure he could do it, perhaps he should laugh it off. His mother would certainly expect him to.

But before he could say another word, Miss Whitlow laid her hand on his arm. “Do not do it, Beaumont,” she said in a husky voice. “Mr Templecombe is not serious. Don’t risk breaking your neck for a wager.”

Beau threw off her hold and glared at her, his temperature rising with his temper. “Don’t you think I could do it?”

Miss Whitlow coloured.

“Of course you could,” said Eliza with quiet confidence.

Frances scowled at her, turning her mouth down in disdain. “Don’t encourage him,” she said in a dangerously low voice, before turning her scowl on him. “You’re being ridiculous to give Templecombe’s foolish words even a moment’s consideration. Mama would not approve.”

It was an unfortunate phrase for Frances to use if she wished to dissuade him. Anger bubbled up inside Beau until he thought he would explode. He refused to let his mother dictate his life. Not this time. This was something he could control.

He stretched out his arm toward Templecombe and they shook hands. “Done,” he said, with a smug look at Frances.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I’ll tell Mama and she will put a stop to your stupidity.”

Beau did not take her words lightly. No doubt she would report the whole to their mother, but he refused to be cowed by her threats. However, if he wanted to win his bet, he needed to arrange it fast. Perhaps Astley would loan him his riding school for an hour or two.

He raised his chin in defiance at Frances and turned back to Eliza with an affectionate smile on his face. To know she believed in his ability with horses touched the very depths of his being. She had shown faith in him. It was a novel experience, and he liked it.

Eliza blushed at the warmth in his expression and lowered her eyes—but she was smiling.

And he could not help noticing the enchanting little dimple had reappeared on her chin.

Chapter 13