A Rogue in Sheep’s Clothing Read Online Free PDF

bay trembled as she entered the ring. “Gents, we’ve got a nice little mare here, bred from some fine stock at the Croyden stables. She’s Lillyfair out of King Solomon. We’re going to start the bidding at twenty. Twenty, do I hear twenty-five … ”
    A familiar whinny rang imperiously over the auctioneer’s patter. Manifesto was up next. Jimmy James struggled to calm the horse, who circled the groom, muscles taught beneath his dappled coat. God, how she loved that horse. From his intelligent black eyes to the ovals decorating his rump, no other animal was half as beautiful. Her chest ached with pride.
    The bay left the ring and Manifesto pranced in, each step loaded with such power and grace he seemed to float on air.
    “Gentlemen, we have a very special animal here today: Manifesto, from the late Sebastian Albright’s stables. He’s a direct descendant of Eclipse. His dam is Epsom Oaks winner Annette and his sire was Saltram, winner of the Epsom Derby. He’s the finest piece of horseflesh I’ve yet to auction.”
    Men surged to the ring shoving Ellie hard against the ropes. On the other side of the auction block she saw Hugh Davenport. The determined look of him made her blood boil.
    “We’re going to start the bidding at five hundred pounds, gentlemen. Do I hear five hundred for this magnificent animal?”
    Clasping her hands and praying, Ellie wished for something to stop the sale. A whirlwind, a cyclone, anything, but within minutes a cadre of men had the bidding up to four thousand pounds. The crowd murmured with excitement. No one had heard of a horse selling for so much.
    “Do I hear four thousand fifty?” the auctioneer asked. Hugh raised his hand.
    “How about four thousand one hundred?” continued the auctioneer.
    Silence. No one moved. Ellie thought she’d explode. Her limbs went numb.
    A smile lit Hugh’s face as the last competitor shook his head and walked away.
    “We have four thousand one hundred pounds!” the auctioneer shouted triumphantly. “Going once. Going twice … ” Then Lank bullied a path through the crowd, followed by a small, pale man in immaculate dress. Waving a white gloved hand, the man raised a gold-tipped cane, bidding four thousand and two.
    “Who’s that bloke?” Ellie asked a tweedy looking fellow standing next to her.
    “He’s that wealthy gent what just got the fifty-thousand acres down here from the Prince Regent. Wadsworth is the name. Baron Wadsworth.”
    A sheath of ice encased her heart. Lank was working for the baron, and now the worst and the worst of all were bidding against each other for her horse.
    “Can I hear four thousand three?” sang the auctioneer. There were a few indignant cries. The assembly wanted local boy Hugh Davenport to win the steed.
    Hugh raised his hand.
    “Four thousand three, gentlemen!” the auctioneer cried. “Will you give me four thousand four?” Wadworth’s hand went up again.
    A rumble of displeasure passed through the men. All eyes fixed on Hugh. Even across the ring, Ellie saw sweat bead on his brow. His hand went up. “I bid four thousand four fifty,” he said.
    “If we can make it four thousand five, it will be the highest price ever paid for a horse in England,” the auctioneer urged.
    As if it were a trifle, Baron Wadsworth lifted his gloved fingers. “I’ve always enjoyed breaking records.” He smiled at the crowd. No one smiled back.
    Hugh closed his eyes and lifted his hand as the auctioneer sang, “Do I hear four thousand six?”
    Ellie shivered.
Give me a miracle
, she prayed.
Don’t let Davenport or Wadsworth get my Manifesto, please.
    But the tips of Baron Wadsworth’s fingers waggled, and with a delighted cry the auctioneer registered the bid at four thousand six hundred pounds. The crowd grumbled — a sound laced with menace.
    “How about four thousand seven? Lord Davenport, are you willing to go to four thousand seven?”
    Use the Fitzcarry pearls and bid!
Before Ellie knew what she was