"Miss Durant has summoned the carriage," the butler told him when he reached the back door. "She instructs you to await her out front."

He made his way round to the front of the house and Vermillion arrived a few minutes later, in company with a slight, brown-haired woman who appeared to be her maid. He was mildly surprised to see the maid, having expected Vermillion, never one to succumb to convention, to be traveling unchaperoned. Then he saw that today she wasn't dressed in the bold, bright colors she usually wore, but gowned very simply in a high-waisted garment of pale green muslin, her red hair covered by a matching flowered bonnet. Her unadorned features were shaded by the parasol resting on one of her small shoulders, an unremarkable young lady at first glance.

Unfortunately, Caleb thought she looked more appealing than he had ever seen her.

"Good morning, Mr. Tanner."

"Good morning, Miss Durant."

"This is Jeannie Fontenelle. She'll be accompanying us today. Jeannie, this is Mr. Tanner. He's taking Jacob's place for a while."

"Bonjour, M'sieur," the little maid said in French, reminding him again of the undercurrents swirling through the house and the Durant women's possible sympathies toward the French. The maid was slender and pretty, a few years older than Vermillion, with brown hair and warm brown eyes. He managed a smile, only a little surprised to have been introduced to a person who was, perhaps, another servant Vermillion considered a friend.

She carefully folded her parasol and he helped her climb into the open carriage, followed by her little French maid. The conveyance wasn't the fancy barouche she traveled in most evenings with her aunt, but a shiny black calèche. Caleb took a place next to the coachman, who smartly slapped the reins against the rumps of a nicely matched set of bays and they set off for Tattersall's.

Caleb had been to the auction house on several occasions: as a boy once with his father, in later years with one or another of his three brothers. Lucas, the eldest, enjoyed horse racing nearly as much as Caleb. Christian and Ethan also owned some very fine bloodstock.

Caleb thought of his father and brothers as the horses clopped along the road between the low stone walls surrounding the rolling green fields, wishing he'd had time to pay his family a visit before he had begun his assignment. Hopefully, there would be time to see them before his return to Spain.

The sun had warmed the air by the time the carriage arrived at Tattersall's and Caleb helped Vermillion and her maid descend the iron stairs onto the grass. Two ladies among the throng of mostly well-dressed men caused a momentary buzz, but there were several other women in attendance and soon their presence at the edge of the crowd was forgotten.

"This is the big spring sale," Vermillion said. "They'll be auctioning broodmares, foals, and yearlings. I was hoping you could make a cursory examination of the horses coming up for bid and then I could take a look at the ones you've initially selected."

"All right, that sounds like a workable plan. I won't be gone long." He cast her a glance. "In a crowd like this, there are bound to be pickpockets and sharpers. You and Jeannie had better stay here." Where hopefully they would stay out of trouble and he would be able to find them.

But the crowd was different at the auction house, a little more sophisticated than it was at the races, so he wasn't all that worried—aristocrats and men of the upper classes, a few in company with ladies, men with purses hefty enough to pay the price demanded by the very high caliber of breeding stock Tattersall's made available through its sales. Still, he didn't like leaving the women alone for too long.

With that thought in mind, Caleb made his way along the line of horses coming up for bid, making a brief examination of each and a mental note of those he thought might be of benefit to a stable the quality of the one at Parklands.

As he had vowed, he wasn't gone long. Still, when he returned to the spot where he had left her, Vermillion was nowhere to be seen.

Caleb softly cursed. As fashionable as the crowd appeared, there were always blacklegs ready to fleece the unwary. And a woman unaccompanied by a man was always fair game.

He released a sigh of relief when he spotted Vermillion standing near the fence examining a newborn foal and its mother about to come up for bid. Caleb could tell by the look on her face as she stared at the white-stockinged sorrel and its spindly-legged colt that she had already fallen in love.

"What do you think of Hannibal's Lady?" she asked, clearly having already made the decision to bid on both horses.

Caleb stepped closer, examined the mare's teeth, walked around her, ran his hands up and down each of her legs, checked her hooves. He took a few minutes to assess the tiny stud colt the horse had foaled.

"The mare has excellent confirmation. She looks sound and so does the foal. What about the breeding?"

"She's out of Hannibal's Bride, sired by Lochinvar. The breeding book shows a direct line to the Godolphin Arabian."

"I know Lochinvar. He won the Derby at Epsom four years ago. With that sort of breeding, they're going to be expensive. I've found a couple of others you might be able to buy at a better price."

Her chin went up. "I want Hannibal's Lady and her foal, Lochinvar's Fist. I think whatever they cost will be worth paying."

It galled him to admit she likely might be right. He couldn't help feeling a grudging admiration at her selection. "If that is the case, why don't we go somewhere where we can enter the bidding?" He started to turn, but she caught his arm.

"I'd like you to handle that for me."

He hadn't thought of that, though he should have. A woman didn't enter the bidding, it wouldn't be seemly, perhaps wasn't even allowed. And she didn't want to be recognized as Vermillion—not that there was much chance of that. Still, she was always more circumspect when she was Lee.

Considering he also had no desire to be discovered, Caleb had hoped to stay in the background himself. Unfortunately, Vermillion hadn't left him any choice.

"As you wish," he said, not really all that concerned. His acquaintances were mostly in the military and he hardly looked like an officer of the British Army with his overlong hair and dressed in the clothes of a groom. "Come. Let's find a place to stand before Hannibal's Lady and her foal come up for bid."

The horses entered the ring not long after. By waiting for the bidding to near an end, he was able to step in without driving up the price, which seemed to please Vermillion. The financial deals were concluded and a promise made to pick up both horses on the morrow.

"It's been a good day," Vermillion said as Caleb returned the women to the carriage.

"You're sure you don't want to look at any of the others?"

"I'm satisfied for now. Perhaps another day."

"You chose exceptionally well. The mare and her foal are well worth the price you paid."

"Actually, I would have gone higher. You're a shrewd negotiator, Mr. Tanner."

He didn't mention that he had learned the trick from his father. The earl was a master of manipulation. Caleb knew that firsthand. He had joined the army to please his father and though it suited him very well, he often wondered if he would have made the same choice if it hadn't been for his father's subtle hand.

Continuing through the crowd, they had almost reached the coach when he heard someone shouting his name. Recognizing his brother Lucas's voice, Caleb silently cursed.

"That man," Vermillion said, her footsteps beginning to slow. "He seems to know you."

There was no avoiding the confrontation. Damn, Lucas. His eldest brother had a knack for stirring up trouble. Praying Lucas would follow his lead, Caleb turned and smiled.

"Lord Halford," he said, using his brother's courtesy title. "It's good to see you, sir."

His brother's dark eyebrows narrowed for an instant as he took in Caleb's homespun shirt and course brown breeches, and his hair, usually kept short, curling now at the nape of his neck. Lucas wasn't a fool. His look said whatever might be transpiring, he would play along for now—though Caleb couldn't begin to imagine the scenarios that must be swirling through his head.

"It's good to see you as well," Lucas replied easily, giving him a chance to invent whatever story he liked. His brother made a quick perusal of Vermillion, and the faint darkening of his pupils said he recognized the beauty she seemed unaware of, dressed as simply as she was.

"I used to work as a trainer for his lordship in York," Caleb supplied, making no attempt at introductions that would scarcely be appropriate for a groom.

"That's right," Lucas agreed. "I was sorry to lose you. I was hoping perhaps you might be ready to return to the north again."

"No, sir, not at present, but I'm flattered by your interest."

Lucas, ever a man with an eye for beauty, turned the full force of his charm on Vermillion. Luc was as tall as Caleb, his hair as dark. His shoulders were wide, though Lucas was slimmer, more leanly built. He also had a wicked reputation with the ladies nearly as sordid as Andrew Mondale's.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance," Lucas said, making her a very dashing bow. "Viscount Halford at your service, madam." His brother was beginning to enjoy himself. Considering his scandalous reputation and the fact he often sampled the delights of a beautiful Cyprian, he might already have met her, even spent the night in her bed. If not, he clearly wished to. Caleb felt a sudden urge to hit him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us, my lord," Vermillion said, determined not to give him her name; certainly it wouldn't have been proper if she had done so. "My aunt will be worried should I be gone overly long." Turning away, she started walking, almost bolting for the carriage, Jeannie close at her skirts.