My seventeenth birthday was much like all the birthdays that preceded it since I’d come to Laytham Hall. No special feast, no special gift, even the weather nothing special. That was, until…
A strange groom presented himself at the kitchen door, and I was sent for. “Yes?”
“You be Mr Laytham? I’ve a message for you, sir.” He handed me the slip of paper.
I unfolded it and read the words with widening eyes. It seemed that during an unprecedented run of luck at a faro’s den, Uncle Eustace had won a prime bit of horseflesh.
However, the message went on to state, since the animal is under my weight, I’m passing the colt on to you.
The action surprised me, and I wondered what was truly wrong with the horse; Uncle Eustace wasn’t usually so generous.
“Where is the colt?” I asked the groom.
“
