Sheffield

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It had been five years since she had set foot in Doncaster. Miss Benning smiled at the mirror, she had a grand contender for St. Leger and a filly to boot. She stood for some time gathering herself in. She wore a crimson coat elegantly tailored with ivory buttons over black trousers she had crafted during her last visit to London. Her raven hair was braided to the side, wisps already falling loose she took a deep breath and smiled at herself, "Oh! William if only you were here. Shall we be the first female breeder, owner and trainer to take St. Leger and on a filly?" She laughed at her words, "What a jest that would be," she rolled her eyes heavenward, "I hope you are smiling as it is my one happiness."

"Will you look at that," said the elder Donal as Miss Benning approached. Wimbley's brows shot up, his mouth fell open and he began to roil with laughter. Grant's brows shot together, his cheeks flooding with blood, "What game do you play at," he raged as he stepped towards her to take her arm. Miss Benning stopped short and gave him a calm look, "I do not follow Sir William?" Grant blustered, "You know damn well what I mean now return to your room this instant and dress yourself in something decent for mercy's sake." Miss Benning's back stiffened, "I am not a child Sir William and I shall dress as I choose." She walked past the man, took Donal's arm and pulled him towards the shedrow. "Ace I think you shall give that man to an early grave." "He can see me as nothing but a child, it is infuriating," said she still bristling. "It is only from affection." "I know Niall but enough of that we have a race to win."

She walked down a shedrow after completing an inspection of the horses Wimbley brought from Dungate, her mind ticking down the list of preparations still to be executed, she barely noticed the child in the alley or the horse exiting the stall. The child cried out in alarm, the horse jigged in confusion and the hand growled explicatives. Miss Benning quickened her step and scooped up the small figure then turned on the hand, "How dare you use such language towards a child. I should have you dismissed on point," cried she. The hand made his defense, "Aye ma'am the little bugger was in the way, spooked the horse." "A seventy-two stone horse to a ten stone child and the horse was spooked? Who is your employer?" demanded the woman. The hand mumbled in answer. "It only would be Mr. Bartlett, he never thought highly of sense when he took people on," she spat in retort. Miss Benning looked the child over quickly, "Are you injured?" she queried very softly. The child shook her head. "It seems you are saved Sir as the child is unharmed but mark me, should you again pay such little heed to your surroundings or respect to the young and fairer of sex I shall remove you myself and rip out your tongue." The man's eyes turned to saucers, his voice completely left him as he gagged slightly and bowed, "Your servant ma'am." Miss Benning watched as the hand led the horse swiftly down the aisle away from her then turned her gaze on the bundle in her arms and giggled, "Now that is how you deal with a man my love." The child removed her head from Miss Benning's shoulder and gazed up at her with pale hazel eyes. "You are a lovely thing, shall we find your parents?"

Miss Benning turned and froze. Ewan leaned against the wall of the shedrow watching the exchange with a grin which slowly fell as he recognized the woman who held his child. Time had been kind to him, his hair was shorter than she remembered and several shades lighter, having been kissed by the sun. His skin was smooth and olive, she saw that his figure had become that of a man having lost all of its boyish gawkiness, he was strong and confident. And then she saw the green of his eyes which still plagued her dreams and she almost dropped the child from her arms.

He had followed Emma around the corner several steps behind her own but had paused to watch the entertainment unfold as the arrogant hand was thoroughly chastised. Seeing his child safe in the woman's arms he leaned against the wall and grinned at the woman's spirit and then she turned to face him and he felt the blood drain from his face. Her hair was black as a raven's, her skin a light tan, radiated life, she wore a coat and trousers which blessed every curve of her frame and then he met her eyes, ruby red in the pale light she looked unearthly.