In the Brief Eternal Silence Read Online Free PDF

powerfully built, but there was an air of intenseness about him,
a feeling that the mind behind his dark locked brow was churning
away at endless and complicated thoughts that made his presence a
little overwhelming. And intimidating.
    The Squire, who viewed himself as a crusty
old soul who made up for his rather slow intelligence with a
bulldog temerity, found himself annoyed to be somewhat ill-at-ease
in the younger man's presence. He wasn't used to rubbing elbows
with the very crème de la crème of his society, true, but such
things had never much mattered to him. He was an excellent shot and
had a good seat on a hunt, and those two things, along with the
fact that he was always willing to play a good hand of cards, and
bet a good deal more than he owned, had always made him welcome
company in the circles he chose to move in. But he found this
circle to be a little above his comfort zone, and the only other in
the room he felt any kinship to was young Mister Ryan Tempton, he
of the tall, lanky, raw-boned build and hair a more shocking red
shade than even his older brother's.
    Bertie swallowed from his glass. “Well, much
as I would like to say I discovered her on my own, I have to give
credit to Ryan. He was the one that first brought my attention to
her, and suggested that you may be interested likewise.”
    “Indeed?” St. James asked, turning to the
young man that flushed a little under his gaze. “Very promising for
someone fresh out of University. I shall have to take you with me
on some of my scouting trips, young Ryan. You may be useful, if I
can get to you before Bertie, here, does too much damage to your
natural eye with his ill-conceived ideas of what to look for in a
horse.”
    “Still say you can't go wrong with looking at
color, St. James,” Bertie replied. “Everyone knows a black can't
run. And never have seen an all white horse do anything good over
seven furlongs. Stands to reason you must start with at least
something in between.”
    “And I beg to differ,” St. James countered.
“Behemoth is totally coal black, and has never been beat at a mile
and above.”
    “Yes,” Lord Tempton nodded, but wagged a
finger. “But anything below that and he almost always loses. Why
the hired nag I rode today could beat him.”
    “He's a distance runner. That is why I wish
to breed him to a sprinter. See if we cannot get more early speed
as well as stamina.” The duke turned to the Squire. “Which brings
us to your filly, Squire. Her times were impressive, considering
the condition of the track. And the ill-advised rider up on
her.”
    “Ah, Lizzie does well enough,” the Squire
defended. “Better than most. The filly is rather short on sense and
long on spooking.”
    “Anyone could have ridden her into the rail
today. That did not take much skill,” St. James returned.
    “I thought she handled the whole rather
admirably,” young Ryan broke in. “Anyone could see that the filly
reacted totally unexpectedly and was not to be controlled.”
    St. James gave a small dismissive shrug,
turned back to the Squire. “No apparent harm done, but I would like
to see her again in the morning, make sure that she is sound, and,
of course, any offer I make for her will be dependent on that.”
    There was a brief silence as the Squire
opened his mouth, closed it again, and ran a hand through his
heavy, damp, gray hair. “Uh, milord, I appreciate your interest,
indeed, I find it very flattering that you should take such an
interest in my horse. But—”
    There was a tapping on the door, and then it
opened and two chambermaids brought in several steaming platters of
food. “Shall we dine?” St. James asked. “We can iron out any
difficulties afterward.”
    With relief, the Squire pulled his chair in
to the table and the other three men joined him. There was a well
cooked leg of lamb, a side of filling with apple, boiled red
potatoes, hare stew in a rich brown gravy, Yorkshire pudding, a
dish of mixed