“Must you be so loud? It is not illegal to ride a horse, you know.”
Silas scoffed and whirled around to face the servants, pointing at Scar as he addressed them angrily.
“Did none of you tell her that no one but myself rides Scar? Why did you let her near him in the first place?”
Agnes stepped forward, putting herself between the servants and the Duke.
“Do not talk to them like that. They did nothing wrong. Yes, I was told that he is your favorite horse, and I was warned not to ride him because he was not keen on strangers – but as you can see, we got along quite well. Do not scold them for my actions. It is not as though they could have stopped me.”
Silas’ eye twitched in annoyance, and he waved the servants away, waiting until they were gone before he continued to speak.
“You seem to be under the impression that you can do as you please with my things. Last night, you refused to hand over his reins and berated me for being a bad owner. Today, here you are, riding him after you had been expressly warned not to –”
“Last night?” Agnes interrupted, confused, turning to pat Scar’s neck. “Was he the same horse you were riding last night?”
Silas folded his arms, sighing deeply as he fought back the angry irritation brewing beneath his skin.
“Yes, but that is beside the point. I believe we had an agreement to remain as civil and amicable as possible – until we got what we wanted. You are going against that deal with these displays of childishness.”
Agnes’ jaw dropped at the insult. “Childishness?”
“Yes. Only a child would act so stubbornly and refuse to behave after they have been expressly asked to.”
“I rode your horse! I did not set fire to your mansion or anything as nefarious as you are making this out to seem. I do not see why you are so upset.”
Agnes had never met a more irritating person in her life. He wore on her nerves with each word that left his mouth, and she had never really been a violent person, but this man seemed to conjure up murderous thoughts in her mind – with either him or her as the victim.
She had really wanted to ride Scar, and so she did. Her decision had not been vindictive in any way, and neither had the goal been to upset Silas. Yet here he was, belittling her again for a very small issue. Agnes was starting to feel like this was simplywhat he was like – unnecessarily difficult – and she was quickly losing her ability to tolerate him.
“You are ridiculous. Of course, I am upset. That horse is mine – he has been for years, and I do not let just anyone near him, let alone ride him. Yet here you are, barely a day here, and you are already acting as though you own the place,” Silas said, anger flashing in his eyes.
“I cannot believe you. How –”
“How much for the horse?”
Agnes faltered, turning to the side to see a man walking towards them. She glanced at Silas and found him seeming more irritated than angry now, looking back at the man who had come to stand next to them.
“How much for the horse?” he repeated, looking at the Duke. “Silas? Can you not hear me?”
It was strange that this man would address Silas by his first name rather than his title or his last name. Agnes wondered if they were close but surmised by the look on Silas’ face that they were not.
“He is not for sale,” Silas replied through gritted teeth.
“What do you mean? Everything has a price; be a man and state yours.”
“I said he is not for sale. I have no intention of selling him. Ever,” Silas stated coldly.
The man pursed his lips and nodded grimly.
“I see. It’s a shame, really.” He glanced longingly at Scar. “He is such a majestic beast, but he will have to settle for second place because of his stubborn owner – because there is no way he is going to win against my team.”
It was almost funny to Agnes that Silas, who had called her stubborn, was being labeled the very same by someone else. Except that rather than being amused, she found herself irritated by the blatant display of disrespect, wanting to say something but unsure if she should.
There was definitely something between them, and if she intervened carelessly, it could spell trouble for Silas. She might not be fond of him, but she would not willingly sabotage him. Not unless it would bring him down a peg or two before her. If not, what would be the point?
“You sound so certain of your victory, Lord Hamilton,” Silas intoned stiffly. “I would not be so presumptuous if I were you. We both know how you’ve landed yourself in trouble countless times with that bad attitude.”
Lord Hamilton winced for a moment and then folded his arms, looking more like a petulant child than a bold man.