Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3)

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Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3) Page 16

by Jan Jones


  “I shall have my reward some day. I imagine he keeps a good table and it seems hard on Fortune to be deprived an evening of Miss Taylor’s company.”

  Harry went bright red. “I will be placed as far from her as the seating arrangements allow. But we should not have received the invitation had you not been staying here. Thank you, sir. If my sister agrees, I would be happy to take you up in my curricle.”

  Caroline nibbled her lip as she perused the second half of her friend’s letter. She wondered when would be the right time to break it to her table companions that Giles d’Arblay had ‘run across’ Louisa and her father when ‘taking the opportunity to view the wonderful architecture of the Church of St James’ on Sunday and had got himself invited to dinner too.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Alexander elected to ride the following day also. On their return, Caroline noticed the jockey who usually raced for them in the yard talking to Harry. Over the man’s shoulder, Harry gave her the very faintest shake of his head. Caroline’s heart sank. Solange had not let him mount.

  Which meant that either they would have to pull out of the race and thus forfeit the wager. Or...

  Or...

  Or Caroline herself would have to ride.

  “Are you all right?”

  Caroline came back to her surroundings with a start. Alexander was looking at her with concern on his face. It was... nice. Unsettling, but nice. She tucked the look away into her store of memories. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am perfectly well. I have just remembered a number of letters I need to write, that is all.”

  It was noticeable that today he was steadier when he dismounted. Nor did he need help walking back to the house. It seemed once Lord Rothwell decided to get better, his body obeyed him. That was all to the good. Caroline need not worry about him when the time came for him to leave.

  “Must you write them now?” He had a half-smile on his face.

  “Oh, I think so. I do not believe in putting off the inevitable. It only makes the task harder, do you not think?” Harry. She had to talk to Harry.

  “You are shaming me into addressing my own business concerns,” he said.

  Why did he have to choose now to be amiable? Now, when she was about to discuss with her brother and her head groom how best she might deceive him in order to win that wretched wager.

  “I... I am sure your steward will be most grateful,” she said.

  “Once he has picked himself up off the floor from astonishment.”

  He was still eyeing her speculatively. Any minute now he would again ask if there was anything wrong. It was with the utmost relief that Caroline saw his valet hovering ostentatiously in the hallway, clothes brush in hand. “I will see you later, my lord.”

  As soon as his door was closed, she sped outside. Harry and Flood were in the stable, both looking glum. “I am going to have to ride, aren’t I?” she said. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

  “There might still be time...” but Harry’s voice trailed off.

  “You can’t ride as a lady, Miss Caro,” said Flood bluntly. “For all it’s a private race, they’ll not let a lass mount up for it.”

  “Mrs Thornton did.”

  “In York. Not in Newmarket. And a dozen years ago now and her no better than she should be.”

  Caroline moistened her lips. “Could we... Could we perhaps explain to Lord Rothwell that...”

  Both men just looked at her.

  “There is money on this race, Caro, not simply the original wager. D’Arblay for one has side bets. One of Grafton’s horses was put in for it. One of Rutland’s. They are both influential gentlemen.”

  “The principals in a race are not responsible for other people’s bets.”

  “No, lass, but it would generate bad feeling amongst the gentry if Mr Harry were to pull out.”

  “And as well as needing their custom, I need to maintain my integrity. You do not have to tell me that there are enough whispers as it is about my ‘lucky touch’. I have to keep my name as an honourable trainer. It is the only chance I have of winning Louisa’s father over.”

  Caroline felt a cold lump of fear settle in her chest. “Then I must ride as a lad.” She faced both the men. “It is not as if I have never done so before.”

  Harry put his head in his hands. “Caro, that was four years ago.”

  “I am not so very much more grown,” said Caroline. Her entire stomach was ice now, but she could not bear that look of misery and defeat on Harry’s face. “I can bind myself flat and grime my face and wear the cap low on my brow and call myself Mr Brown as I did before. I weigh in, ride the race, weigh out and disappear into the crowd. Flood can lead Solange home. She’ll be easy enough with him.”

  “Provided she is easy at all on the course.”

  “We will do trial trips during the race week and mingle with the crowd. Lord Rothwell is getting fitter every day. He will be off with the duchess by next week. I will be able to slip away.”

  She was convincing herself as much as her brother. Flood knew it. Caroline saw him step back, his watchful gaze going from face to face, ready to support whatever decision was reached.

  “What if he is not?” said Harry. “What if he remains here?”

  Caroline wanted to scream or stamp her foot at him for seeing only the problems. “Then we recruit Louisa to make a long call. Lord Rothwell will never know I am not with her and Mrs Penfold. If he chances to remain in the saloon, I shall simply develop a headache and retire to my room. We will contrive, Harry. We have to.”

  “You never have the headache.”

  “Lord Rothwell does not know that.” In truth, he knew little about her at all. She felt a small pang that he never would.

  “Caro, let’s try the other men on her again. I cannot ask you to do this. It is dangerous. Dangerous physically and dangerous socially. If you are discovered you will be ruined.”

  From somewhere, Caroline found a smile. “Well, that will at least stop Mama’s matchmaking efforts, will it not? Truly, I believe Solange must have once been very badly frightened by a male rider. I don’t know how or why, but I do know she trusts me and I think we have enough of a bond to carry it through. But Harry, whether she wins or not, I am going to ask Lord Rothwell if I may buy her from him. I might even ask him this week, before the race.”

  Her brother looked at her, very white and strained. “I swear, Caro, that as long as I live I will never enter into another wager like this one.”

  “Sense at last,” said Caroline in a shaky voice. “And at only twenty-four years of age. Louisa will be thrilled.”

  From his seat at the table in his room, Alex watched for Caroline to emerge from the stable block. He was puzzled. Surely if she was going to shy away from being in the same room as him, she would have done so yesterday, not today. There had been nothing untoward in their conversation this morning; they had sparred amicably about education and agreed on the relative merits of winter and summer grazing. But as soon as they got back, she could not be rid of him fast enough.

  He was confounded to find himself piqued. Giles would no doubt be in whoops that Alex was cross because Miss Caroline Fortune preferred the society of her horse to being in company with him.

  The ink dried on Alex’s pen as he absorbed this unpalatable fact. And here was another, following hard on the heels of the first. He would not be telling Giles anything about it. He had been avoiding admitting it to himself, but these past weeks, Giles had diminished in his estimation as much as Caroline and her brother had increased in it. Indeed, now he came to reflect more honestly, the friendship had been fading on his side for some time.

  His eyes focused on movement outside. Caroline was walking down the path to the house at last. She was alone, lost in thought, her arms wrapped about herself and her expression withdrawn.

  She was hurting. Alex wanted to start from his chair, to hasten to her side, to demand to know what was wrong. He wanted to shield her in his arms and hurl d
amnations against the world.

  He didn’t do any of those things.

  The knowledge that he wanted to had turned his insides to liquid metal and held him riveted in his seat. He loved her? He loved Caroline Fortune?

  Giles d’Arblay once again visited in order to play billiards with Alexander. Caroline saddled Solange and took her for a much longer walk around Newmarket.

  “You can see how much easier she is becoming,” she said to Harry, who was keeping pace alongside her on his own favoured mount. “Will you come up to the Heath with me tomorrow morning to watch her paces?”

  Harry grimaced at the early start this would mean, but nodded. “You have worked a miracle.”

  Caroline frowned. “I think it is more what I have unworked. Harry, did I tell you Lord Rothwell mentioned to me that Solange used to belong to Mr d’Arblay?”

  “There’s nothing in that. Daresay he only owned her five minutes. Some of the gentry use horses merely as currency for their bets, God rot ’em. I tell you, Caro, If I hadn’t been so deuced unhappy over Louisa, I’d have steered clear of Crockford’s long ago.”

  Would that he had. Caroline chose her next words carefully. “I have thought, once or twice, that Mr d’Arblay has not looked on you with a very friendly eye. Have you done anything to make him take you in dislike?”

  Harry glanced at her in astonishment. “I hardly know him. He wanted to buy Rufus when we pulled off all those wins last October, but then so did several others. I told ’em all he was not for sale.”

  Caroline gnawed her lip. Should she mention that she thought Alexander’s friend was trying to fix his interest with Louisa? No. Harry was quite capable of either going into a monumental sulk or calling his rival out. She would keep her own counsel and trust to Louisa’s light handling of whatever situation arose on Friday.

  Dawn. Alex stood in his window, wrapped in his greatcoat so as not to be noticed by any casual observer. It had come to him during the night that though he had seen Solange being rubbed down and lip daintily at Caroline’s hand and not attack her stable companions when in close proximity, he had not yet viewed any actual evidence of her training. In theory this didn’t matter, since he stood to win a thousand guineas if she failed to beat the other entrants next week. Absurdly though, he did not want her to lose. He wanted Caroline’s brother to make good on his boast. Thus it had become a point of some urgency to see with his own eyes that Harry was turning the uncontrollable mare into a racehorse.

  Alex shivered in his greatcoat but remained at the window, the curtain drawn behind him. Up by the stable block he could see Flood directing the grooms. He could see barrows of muck being wheeled towards the dung heap. He could see horses being ridden towards the road in pairs, but he could not see - ah, yes, there they were, coming up the side path. Harry Fortune on his roan gelding and next to him, trotting easy as you please, Solange with the lithe stripling on her back, half-obscured by Harry’s gesticulating form. They had obviously been taking their exercise as early as possible in order to avoid interested eyes. The two horses disappeared into the stable and Alex moved back into his room with a feeling of a burden having been lightened. He slipped off his coat and returned to bed. Solange would perform, the youngster would ride her, all would be well.

  The arrival of the Duchess of Abervale that day was just as unexpected - and attended by just as much turmoil - as her first descent on them had been.

  “Mama,” said Alexander, rising on her eruption into the saloon. Caroline glanced at him in surprise. Surely that had not been a trace of annoyance in his voice? He had only been describing the Epsom racecourse near his own estate to her after all. “Could you not, just once, Mama, let us know when we are to have the happiness of your presence?”

  “Well, no dearest, because I have often found that when I do that, people are apt to be off pheasant shooting or some such, so one never gets to see them.”

  “Astonishing,” murmured Alexander.

  Her grace settled down, attended by several footmen to take away her various wraps. “You will be pleased to know that Lizzy is very well indeed and she and Mr Marshall are still so much in love that he dropped a hint to me that he should like to have her to himself for as long as possible before the babe is born. So I came away yesterday and am now ensconced at Cheveley. Giles is engaged there for the day today and offered to escort me over, but I could see he would much rather flirt with Rutland’s duchess, so I told him I was going to catechise you on your health. Which I won’t, by the way, for I can tell at once that you are quite yourself again. Rutland says I am at liberty to make a stay there until after your horse race, you are all to come to supper tomorrow, and if I can find out any details about your killer mare he will be enduringly grateful.”

  “She is not a killer mare,” said Alexander mildly, “and I am afraid we are bidden to a master goldsmith’s house at Bury St Edmunds to dine tomorrow night. And then we must show ourselves at the town assembly.”

  “Not the same dinner where Giles’s beautiful heiress will be?” cried her grace, clapping her hands together. “He mentioned her in a very by-the-by manner this morning and I should adore to see her. Now I wonder how I might get myself invited?”

  Caroline stared at her with horror. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but Louisa has been my particular friend since the day we first attended the same seminary. She and my brother have an understanding that her father knows full well about but has not yet seen fit to bless. I fear if Mr d’Arblay considers her ‘his’ heiress, he is being disgracefully forward and doomed to disappointment. I beg you will not mention any such phrase in front of Harry for I really don’t think he could survive the scandal of calling Mr d’Arblay out.”

  Alexander was also looking at his parent askance. “Mama, you cannot simply go around inviting yourself to dinner with respectable goldsmiths.”

  “Can I not, dear? But I wish to more than ever, now. This is not at all well done of Giles, if it is true. But if her father disapproves, I suppose he may not know of Mr Fortune’s hopes. Or he may think that all is fair in love and war. That would be quite like him.”

  “Yes, Giles does tend to only see his own prospects,” said Alexander in a constrained voice.

  Caroline was thinking hard. “Alderman Taylor would be beside himself with delight if the duchess were indeed to grace his table,” she said to Alexander aloud. “If Harry were to ride over there today to mention that your mama is unexpectedly in Newmarket and had some thoughts of attending the assembly with us, he would certainly be moved to invite her.”

  “And he would be enormously grateful to your scapegrace brother for informing him of the situation and for being his messenger,” said Alexander dryly.

  Caroline beamed at him. “He would, would he not? Dear ma’am, do you mind being involved in this little subterfuge? Harry and Louisa are so in love.”

  Her grace was looking delightfully diverted. “There. I knew I was right to leave Lizzy and Marshall together. Pray hurry to Mr Fortune and have him wrap the bait any way he chooses.”

  Caroline sped outside and was lucky enough to find her brother heading for the house. “Do go, Harry,” she urged when she had finished the breathless recital, but not mentioning Mr d’Arblay. “The alderman would adore being able to drop into conversation that he entertained a duchess at his table before the assembly. And he will feel so kindly towards you for bringing him the news.”

  “Best of sisters,” said Harry, giving her an exultant hug. He ran indoors to change his coat, darted in to press a kiss to the duchess’s hand, then hied back to the yard without giving them a farewell.

  “You will like the alderman when you meet him, ma’am,” said Caroline. “He is such an endearing snob, and so fond of Louisa. But he feels he has to be mother and father to her, you see, and simply cannot perceive that Harry would love her and look after her in exactly the way he himself would wish.”

  “And you don’t think Giles would?” said Alexander. There was still a
small wrinkle marring his forehead.

  “Oh no, dear,” said the duchess, earning Caroline’s undying loyalty. “Even at his most charming, Giles will never love anyone near so much as his own self.” She looked at her son serenely. “And I am afraid once the girl’s money runs out, he will not love her at all.”

  At this, Caroline could feel Alexander’s anger. “You are a little harsh today, Mama.”

  “Am I, dear? Ah well, I daresay you know him best. Is he travelling with you tomorrow? Shall I take both of you up in my carriage?”

  “In truth, ma’am, we had not yet fixed the details,” said Caroline quickly. “I shall be accompanying Mrs Penfold, of course, but I am sure if you offer Mr d’Arblay a place in your equipage, he would be delighted to accept.”

  “Aye, do that, Mama. I can always come back with you if I cannot stand Fortune’s handling of the ribbons for more than one trip.”

  “Or if a second fifteen-mile journey in the night air does not seem a wise move after dinner and dancing,” murmured Caroline.

  After his mother had taken her leave and they had seen her carriage depart along the Cheveley road, Alexander caught Caroline’s arm when she would have gone upstairs. She beat down the thrill his touch gave her.

  “Did you know?” he asked. “Did you know Giles was going there tomorrow?”

  Caroline moistened her lips. “Louisa wrote that Mr d’Arblay had been looking around the church of St James when he happened to meet them on Sunday. Anyone who praises his town is always sure of a welcome in the alderman’s house.”

  Alexander looked at her without expression. “Thank you,” he said finally.

  “For what, my lord?”

  “For not saying that Giles probably didn’t mention his invitation to me because he assumed I would not be interested.”

  Did that mean the scales were beginning to fall from his eyes regarding his friend? Caroline hoped so. “He may not know you are going,” she said diplomatically. “I daresay Louisa’s father merely commended him to come and take pot-luck with them before the assembly. Mr d’Arblay would not know that the alderman’s notion of pot luck runs to five courses with two removes and as much company as the table can hold.”

 

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