Across the faded splendor of the Aubusson rug, Pris met Eugenia’s wise eyes. “Paddy spoke of something going on at Cromarty’s that he couldn’t stomach-that’s why he left. And now he’s disappeared-his friends think he’s been done away with.”

Eugenia’s brown eyes widened. “Great heavens!”

“Oh, dear!” Hand rising to her throat, Adelaide stared.

Turning to the desk, Pris opened the drawer. “I’m going to write to Rus and tell him he has to leave Cromarty’s employ at once. If there’s something bad happening with the horses-well, you know Rus. He’ll get involved trying to put it right. But I don’t want him in any danger, not if it’s the sort where people disappear, never to be heard of again. If he can’t bear to come home and deal with Papa, then he’ll have to look for work training horses for someone else.”

To her horror, her voice threatened to quaver; she paused to draw a steadying breath.

Rus had always been horse-mad. His one burning ambition was to train an Irish Derby champion. While she didn’t share his enthusiasm, Pris fully understood the fervor of his dreams. Unfortunately, their father, Denham Dalloway, Earl of Kentland, had rigid views on what constituted an appropriate occupation for his son and heir, namely the care and management of the family estates. Breeding and training horses was all very well for others, the implication being others of lesser degree, but was an unacceptable occupation for the next Earl of Kentland.

Of the earl’s three sons, Rus was the least likely to be satisfied with the role of county landowner as his sole focus in life. Like Pris, he took after their mother, more Celt than English, wild and dramatic and mercurially alive. Both twins could see the benefit in the estate being well managed, but estate management lacked allure. Luckily, their nearest brother, Albert, now twenty-one, took after their father-solid, dependable, stoic; Albert delighted in and would unquestionably excel at all aspects of estate management.