Billy rhapsodized about the wonders of Astley’s Amphitheatre for a good five minutes without pausing to draw breath. His reverie was interrupted by a deep voice. “How is Brandywine behaving himself this morning?”
Caro turned to find Henry approaching. Had a man ever looked so handsome in top boots, buckskin trousers, and a coat of bottle-green superfine that fit his gorgeous shoulders like a second skin? She sincerely doubted it.
“Very well, my lord,” Billy replied. “Paul took him up to Hampstead for a proper gallop this morning. I’ve almost finished his cooldown.”
“Good.” Henry stroked the stallion’s neck, and the horse whuffed happily and thrust his muzzle into his owner’s hand. “Yes, I have something for you,” Henry said, producing a lump of sugar from his pocket. He stroked the stal
