CHAPTER 26
Someone’s laughing at us, George thought. This last private hunt Saturday morning wasn’t going well, and here they were, soaked to the skin and chilled, in their brand new livery. He was grateful for one thing, however—the water running off his tricorn behind him ran in two channels instead of right down his back. The lack of any observers for this fiasco was also a blessing.
The skies had been dark and threatening when they set out, but Rhys’s counsel that this would normally be considered hunting weather made him persist anyway. By the time they reached Eagle’s Nest, the fixture just a couple of miles southwest of the manor, a steady drizzle had obscured the view up the heavily wooded slope.
The stag they had been following was moving slowly across the slope, the hounds beh
