The Deception

by Joan Wolf

  “Alcazar was a very undistinguished runner,” I said. “Papa could never understand how so mediocre a horse could sire such a splendid runner as Castle Dawn, the horse that won the Guineas two years ago in record time. Since then, Alcazar has produced a number of other winners. And they are all unmarked bays, with a driving, powerful stride.”

  Harry’s eyes began to glitter with excitement. “Do you think your father challenged Stade about Alcazar’s identity, and so Stade had him killed?”

  “No, I don’t think that was what happened. Don’t you remember that I told you that the last words that Papa spoke were I didn’t think he suspected that I knew?”

  “I’m thinking that Mr. Daniel would have wanted to take a private look at Alcazar before he accused anyone,” Paddy said. “Someone must have seen him.”

  We sat in silence and a wave of depression swept over me. This was it, then. Papa had been killed because he had suspected Stade of stealing a successful stallion and substituting it for his own mediocre stud.

  “Stade is as rich as Golden Ball,” Harry burst out. “Why would he resort to something so underhanded? He don’t need the money.”

  “It is not winnings that Stade is after,” Paddy said. “I’m thinking it is the prestige of owning such a grand stud that attracted him. Stade has wanted to be admitted into the Jockey Club for years, but his membership was always rejected. With a stud like Finn MacCool, the prejudice against him would eventually crumble.”

  Harry had another objection. “Then why wouldn’t he just have bought this Finn MacCool if he wanted him so badly?”

  “I found out that some rich Englishman was after trying to buy the stallion,” Paddy reported. “O’Toole wouldn’t sell. Said he’d waited his whole life for a horse like that. Wouldn’t have sold him for all the rubies in India. It made the horse’s loss even worse, of course, because O’Toole ended up with neither the horse nor the money. All he had left was a few foals—one of which was the horse I saw race last month.”

  An energizing burst of anger swept through me, blowing away my depression. I gritted my teeth. “Well, Stade is not going to get away with it,” I said grimly. “He killed my father, and he stole Mr. O’Toole’s horse, and I am going to make him pay.”

  “That’s the spirit, Kate,” Harry said.

  Paddy nodded his own agreement, but warned, “Before we can do anything, we need proof.”

  I asked Paddy, “Were you able to talk to Finn MacCool’s groom?”

  He smiled approvingly. “That I was, girl. And didn’t it come out that Mr. Daniel had talked to him as well?”

  Harry whistled.

  “The groom also told me that Finn MacCool had a small mole on the right side of his sheath,” Paddy said.

  “No matter what his color or his markings might be, every horse is different,” Harry said. “The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems to me that Stade could pull off a switch like this. Alcazar’s grooms would know if another horse was substituted for him. Grooms always know their own horses.”

  “I’d be willing to wager that we’ll find Alcazar’s grooms were fired before the new horse was brought in,” Paddy said.

  Harry lifted his brows in Adrian’s own gesture.

  I spoke into the silence, “I think we’re all in agreement that the next logical step is to look at Alcazar ourselves.”

  Paddy said, “And haven’t I brought Finn MacCool’s old groom from Ireland with me so we can do just that?”

  The cold hand of fear squeezed my stomach. I said, “First we must make certain that Stade is not in residence.”

  Harry turned to me. “What we need to do is get Adrian to take us to Newmarket for the running of the Guineas. Stade will be sure to be at the racetrack that day, and that will give us the perfect opportunity to take a look at this Alcazar.”

  I regarded Harry with admiration. “That is a splendid plan, Harry.”

  He looked pleased with himself.

  Paddy said, “It is a good plan so long as Sean and I are the ones who are doing the looking.”

  Harry scowled.

  “We can lay our exact plans when we are actually at Newmarket,” I said hurriedly. “What we need to do first is to convince Adrian to take us there. And that might not be so easy.”

  “I know,” Harry said. “He is so busy these days, and so... abstracted.”

  “I don’t think he is very happy with the government’s repressive new laws,” I said.

  “Of course he ain’t happy with them,” Harry said. “The way Liverpool is acting, you’d think barricades were going up in Pall Mall.”

  “It’s disgraceful,” I agreed.

  “Tell Adrian that you always went to Newmarket for the Guineas with your father, and you want to go to the meet for old times’ sake,” Harry suggested.

  I bit my lip. “All right.”

  “I’m after thinking that there is no need for either of you to come to Newmarket at all, Miss Cathleen,” Paddy said. “I will wait until the day of the running of the Guineas, and then Sean and I will go to look at the stallion. Afterward I will come back to London to tell you what I have seen. It will be better if we do it so.”

  “You had better resign yourself to the fact that we are coming, Paddy,” Harry snapped. “There is no way on this earth that I am going to be left out of this adventure!”

  Paddy gave him a disapproving look. “We’re after seeking justice,” he said. “This is not a schoolboy’s adventure, boyo.”

  Harry’s face took on a stern expression that I had never seen it wear before. He looked suddenly older. “I understand that, all right. I’m sorry. Adventure was the wrong word.”

  I said only, “I am coming.” Harry might talk of adventure, and Paddy of justice, but what I wanted was simpler. I wanted revenge.

  At that moment, Louisa walked in with her library books. She stopped when she saw us and color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kate. I did not know that you were engaged.”

  I smiled to show her it was all right. “Put your books down, Louisa, and come meet a dear friend of mine,” I said. “This is Paddy O’Grady.”

  Louisa gave a delighted smile and came forward to offer her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. O’Grady,” she said. “Kate is very fond of you.”

  Paddy bowed over her hand with a grace that surprised me. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said in his softest voice.

  “Miss Cranbourne was the ‘female relation’ who was staying with me at Charlwood Court,” I explained to Paddy. “She is my mother’s cousin.”

  “Is it so?” Paddy said.

  “Is Mr. O’Grady staying with us, Kate?” Louisa asked.

  My reply of “Of course he is” clashed with Paddy’s “The grooms can put me up in the stable.”

  “Nonsense,” Louisa said firmly. “You cannot stay in the stable, Mr. O’Grady.”

  “Louisa is right,” I said. “This house isn’t half as intimidating as Greystone, Paddy. You can have a quite ordinary bedroom on the second floor with the rest of us.”

  Paddy looked down at his boots. “I cannot be staying here like a guest,” he protested. “I have not the manner nor the clothes for it, girl.”

  I waved my hand. “Harry can take you out tomorrow and buy you some clothes.” Then, as he was about to protest again, “Please, Paddy? For me? You are all I have left of Papa, and I want you to be near me.” I gazed at him beseechingly.

  He sighed. “I cannot refuse you when you look like that, Miss Cathleen, and you know it.”

  Of course I knew it. I smiled.

  Louisa said, “If you like, Kate, I will take Mr. O’Grady to Mrs. Richards and she can show him to a room.”

  I nodded, and Louisa and Paddy left the room together. Harry and I looked at each other. “We’ll get the bastard, Kate,” he promised.

  I could feel my jaw set. “Yes,” I said. “We will.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day after Paddy’s arrival the Countess o
f Bridgewater had her annual ball. Since the Earl of Bridgewater was an important figure in the government, Adrian had to go, and of course I went with him. It was almost the only time we had gone out socially by ourselves, and I was nervous.

  He came into my dressing room just as Jeanette was fastening a lovely strand of pearls around my throat. Adrian had given them to me on the night I first went to Almacks, and I loved them. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled a little tensely. “I am almost ready, my lord,” I said.

  “There is no hurry,” he replied, “I have not yet sent for the carriage.” He sat down in a chair that was too small for him and looked as if he was prepared to wait for another hour.

  A little flush had crept into Jeanette’s cheeks when Adrian walked in. She was usually a very self-possessed girl, but Adrian’s presence always seemed to affect her that way. I had caught her several times gazing at him as if he were some sort of a god. It was a little annoying.

  “Is my hair finished, Jeanette?” I asked. Even to myself, my voice sounded cool.

  Her cheeks grew a fraction pinker. “Not quite, my lady. I must just poot ze combs in.” She picked up two pearl combs and deftly tucked them into the artful tumble of curls she had arranged on the top of my head. She really was very talented.

  I had to admit that my hair had looked much nicer since she came.

  I stood up carefully, so as not to disturb her handiwork. Adrian stood up as well, and as I turned to face him I said, “You may send for the carriage now, my lord. I am ready.”

  He didn’t move, just stood there regarding me out of unreadable gray eyes. Adrian always looked splendid, but in a black evening coat he was enough to break your heart. I shot a quick look at Jeanette out of the corner of my eye and caught her doing it again.

  “You look lovely, Kate,” he said at last. “Very regal.”

  “Regal?” I said doubtfully, looking down at myself. My dress was a relatively simple affair of white net worn over a Clarence blue satin slip. It had been very expensive because the net was sprinkled with pearls, but it did not have any of the lace or bows or elaborate embroidery that I knew I would see adorning most of the women’s dresses this evening. Louisa had said I was too small for such excessive trimming, and I agreed with her.

  “Yes,” he said, “regal.”

  I shook my head in disagreement. “I’m too short. You have to be tall, like Lady Mary Weston, to be regal.”

  He didn’t disagree with me, he simply said he would go and order the carriage.

  “Damn,” I muttered under my breath as I watched him leave the room. I had wanted him to tell me that I was far more regal than Lady Mary.

  We got caught in a line of carriages outside the Bridgewater house in Berkeley Square and had to wait for a half an hour before we finally reached the front door. I used the time to tell Adrian about my desire to go to Newmarket for the Guineas.

  We were sitting side by side in the carriage, facing forward. He had stretched out his legs as far as they would go, and I had spread my skirts carefully so that they wouldn’t wrinkle. The skirt made an effective barrier between us and I looked straight ahead as I talked, trotting out my prepared story about how Papa and I had always seen the Guineas together and how much I longed to return this year for old times’ sake. When I had finished he didn’t answer immediately, and I sat in silence and thought glumly about how silly I had sounded.

  Not for the first time, I wondered if I should tell him the whole story. When recently I had suggested to Harry that we do this, he had objected violently. “Adrian’s got too much on his mind just now, Kate. Castlereagh is pushing him to come aboard at the Foreign Office, and of course that is exactly what Adrian always planned to do. But he don’t like this repressive course the government has taken in domestic affairs. This is not the time to worry him about Stade and a ringer stallion.”

  I had felt an unpleasant flash of jealousy that Adrian would confide these problems to Harry and not to me, but I had to admit that what Harry said made sense. It would not be fair to burden Adrian with my problems at a time when he was dealing with problems of his own.

  “If it would be too inconvenient for you to accompany me, then perhaps I could go with Harry,” I ventured.

  “No.”

  I bit my lip.

  “It will not be inconvenient for me to take you to Newmarket, Kate,” he said. “In fact, it will be a relief to get out of London for a while.” I turned to look at him, and he gave me a rueful smile. “I’m beginning to think that I don’t have the temperament for politics after all.”

  “It’s not you that doesn’t have the right temperament, my lord,” I said hotly. “The country would be much better off if you were prime minister instead of that frightened worm, Liverpool.”

  “They’re all frightened,” Adrian said, “Liverpool and Sidmouth and the rest of the Tory leaders. I don’t understand them at all.” He sounded genuinely bewildered. “They have dusted off some old unrepealed Act which gives magistrates the power to send to prison any persons they think likely to commit an act prejudicial to public order.” A current of anger ran beneath his voice as he turned toward me. “Can you imagine what that means, Kate? It means that red-faced squires all over the country will be throwing into jail every poor soul who passes a rude comment in the local pub!”

  “It is disgraceful,” I said.

  “I cannot understand them,” he repeated forcefully. “Everywhere I look in London I see demobilized soldiers and sailors who can’t find employment. These are the men who defeated Napoleon, Kate! They deserve better than that their government should be afraid of them.”

  He did not understand that Liverpool and Sidmouth and their ilk were narrow-minded little men who thought only of the welfare of their own class. Unlike Adrian, they did not feel it was their duty to protect those less fortunate and less powerful than they.

  “I know your family have always been Tories,” I said slowly, “but perhaps the Whigs would be more to your taste?”

  The coach crept forward a few more steps.

  He sighed. “The Whigs are hopelessly divided into factions, Kate.”

  I did not understand. “Factions?”

  He held up one finger. “First, we have the Grenvillites, who are just like the Tories, only they think Lord Grenville should be prime minister and not Liverpool.” He held up a second finger. “Then we have the Foxites, who are supposedly in favor of reform but who have no use for economics. Economics, of course, is the whole point of reform,” his eyes glinted, “as any intelligent reader of The Wealth of Nations should know.”

  I nodded intelligently to show him that I did indeed know.

  A third finger went up. ‘“Then there are the radical reformers, people like Whitbread and young Grey and Brougham. But they all disagree with each other as well as with the Grenvillites and the Foxites.”

  “Good God,” I said, “The Whigs sound as if they’re as disorganized as the Irish.”

  He gave an unwilling laugh. “The Irish at least can always agree to oppose the English. The problem with the Whigs is that they can discover nothing with which they can agree to unite in opposition.”

  The carriage inched forward again.

  “It sounds dismal,” I said.

  “It is. I will be happy to escort you to Newmarket.”

  The carriage stopped and a footman holding a torch opened the door. Another footman stepped forward to assist me to alight. We had arrived at the Bridgewater ball.

  * * * *

  The ball was notable for two things. The first was that Adrian danced with Lady Mary Weston.

  This fact did not appear to be at all earth-shattering to anyone else in attendance. I was already on the floor with another partner—a young cavalry officer who held a position at the Horseguards—so it could not be said that Adrian had neglected me for a previous love interest. Nor was there anything about their demeanor that was at all remarkable. They conversed gravely and decorously while wai
ting for the music to start, and they performed the waltz: with perfect correctness.

  But it was a waltz. He had his arms around her. She was looking up into his eyes. He was looking into hers. I wanted to pull her away from him and scratch her face off. Jealousy is a very ugly emotion.

  Then, when I went into the supper room with my escort, whose name I can’t remember, I saw Adrian sitting with three other people, one of whom was Lady Mary.

  “Are you feeling quite the thing, Lady Greystone?” my escort asked me. “You have gone quite pale.”

  My face might be pale, but I was seeing red.

  “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “I see my husband over there. Why don’t we join him?”

  The man agreed with alacrity. Everyone always wanted to have a chance to get close to Adrian.

  When I approached Adrian’s table, the men rose and someone went to bring two more chairs. There was a general shuffling about as they made room for us, and Adrian introduced me to Mrs. Hampton, a handsome young woman whose husband had been on Wellington’s staff in the Peninsula. Apparently she was the one whom he had taken into supper, not Lady Mary. I felt marginally less furious.

  Lady Mary asked me if I was enjoying the dance. Her supper companion was a haughty-looking young man whose shoulders must have been padded, they looked so extravagantly wide in contrast to the rest of him. I tried not to stare at them as I told her I was indeed enjoying the dance.

  “You seem to have captivated poor old Charles Prendergast,” Adrian said.

  Sir Charles Prendergast was a burly gentleman of at least sixty. He had danced with me twice and talked my ear off about a hunter that my father had once sold him that had been “the best damn horse I’ve ever ridden.”

  “Papa once sold him a horse that he liked,” I said.

  Padded Shoulders said, “I am quite certain that Sir Charles found more to admire in you than your father’s horse, Lady Greystone.” He lisped.

  I stared at him in amazement. Adrian coughed and turned his face away. “No,” I said, “he really liked the horse.”