She glanced around with interest, determined to take advantage of this opportunity to see a masculine holy of holies. The famous yard had enough space for dozens of horses and carriages, and was surrounded by a covered arcade where horses could be shown in bad weather. Nodding toward the arcade, she added, "It looks rather like an equine cloister, doesn't it?"
"Justly so," he agreed. "There are some splendid beasts here. You said it was an auction house. If I wish to buy, can I do so immediately, without waiting for the auction?"
"I think so," she said uncertainly. "At least, if you are willing to pay a top price."
"Which I am. What better way to establish myself as a fabulously wealthy foreigner, with great style and little sense?" He glanced down at her, a wicked gleam in his green eyes. "Besides, while you are carrying this off with great aplomb, I shouldn't think that you wish to stay too long."
What a perceptive prince he was, Sara reflected. While she was capable of pretending the same confidence she had in her own drawing room, she didn't really enjoy being the target of so many scandalized eyes.
As they crossed the yard to where a number of carriage horses were tethered, Sara saw a middle-aged man with a proprietorial air emerge from inside the building. Mr. Tattersall, she presumed. His eyes widened at the sight of her, but before he could react, another man whispered something in his ear, probably explaining that she was a duke's daughter.
After that, the proprietor ignored her. Wise man. While Sara's relatives and acquaintances might not approve of her presence, it was likely that some of them would object to her being thrown out. After all, as Peregrine had said, there was no law forbidding her presence. Poor Mr. Tattersall. Caught on the horns of a dilemma, he prudently chose to do nothing.
"Do you see anything you like?" Sara asked.
After an encompassing survey, Peregrine said, "There," and led her over to a pair of perfectly matched bays.
For the next several minutes, the prince communed with the beasts in a rippling foreign language while he ran his hands over them in a comprehensive check. Sara stayed in the shadows a discreet distance away. An old groom, who had watched her entrance with great appreciation, sidled over and murmured, "Your friend's got a good eye for 'orseflesh, milady. That's the best pair we've 'ad in weeks. Wouldn't be 'ere still 'cept the owner's been 'oldin' out for a long price."
Mr. Tattersall came over to Peregrine and introduced himself, then commenced a discussion. Talking horseflesh eased the man's expression, though periodically he gave Sara a hunted look, clearly wishing her somewhere—anywhere—else.
Within ten minutes, the pair of bays had demonstrated their paces and a deal was struck that cheered Mr. Tattersall greatly. "I think I can warrant that Lord Hatfield will be most pleased with your offer, Your Highness," he murmured. Then, his business instincts prevailing over his desire to get the female out of his establishment, he continued, "Might you be interested in acquiring any other horses today? A team, perhaps? You'll find none better matched anywhere. Perhaps a hunter or riding hack?"
"Perhaps," Peregrine said, taking Sara's arm again. "Mr. Tattersall, are you acquainted with my most charming guide, Lady Sara St. James? It was she who said that your establishment was the place to come for horses."
Resigned, the proprietor bowed to her and muttered a greeting. Then he took them for a tour of the available stock. Peregrine dismissed all of the teams with a single eloquent glance, and most of the riding horses were rejected just as swiftly. Then they came to the last loose box, which contained a large stallion of so pale a gray that it appeared almost white.
"I own this horse myself," Mr. Tattersall said proudly. "Today he will be going up for auction. Splendid, is he not? He is of the line of Eclipse. His sire was..."
Peregrine cut the proprietor off with a quick gesture of his hand. "Bring him out."
A groom led out the young, high-spirited stallion. As it tossed its head, pulling at the halter, Sara nervously stepped back out of the way. Peregrine didn't notice. His face rapt, he circled the stallion, once more talking in the language he had used before. Soothed by his sure touch and hand, the gray steadied and watched him, bright-eyed with interest.
Sara thought that the prince would request that the horse be saddled and put through its paces. Instead, he took the reins from the groom and, with one lithe movement, swung onto the stallion's bare back.
"You will permit me?" Taking off his hat, the prince flipped it to Tattersall with a snap of his wrist. Then, under the stunned eyes of the proprietor, the grooms, and the gentlemenly clientele, he leaned forward over the stallion's neck, kicked it in the ribs, and they went bolting across the yard and out of Tattersall's Repository like silver lightning.