Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3)

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Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3) Page 19

by Jan Jones


  “So, Caroline, it has been quite a while, has it not? I daresay you will be pleased enough to come home again tomorrow. I shall give orders to Cook to make up a batch of her best macaroons - which I flatter myself are quite the most superior in all Newmarket - and then if it chances to happen that her grace and Lord Rothwell should call to thank you for your aid with the nursing, as I daresay they will, we shall not be in the least disgraced. Selina has a new cerulean gown which may catch his lordship’s eye and there is enough of the material left over to add a flounce to one of yours to give it a new touch.”

  Caroline saw her freedom (and next week’s vital plans) disappear behind the iron bars of a proper-young-lady’s existence. “You are all care, Mama,” she said with a regretful sigh, “but I am afraid poor Mrs Penfold is so worn out with the extra work that I have promised her faithfully to remain a week or two until she has fully recruited her energies.”

  Mrs Fortune’s eyes sharpened as she directed them to where Martha Penfold was in conversation with a friend. “She does not look worn out.”

  Caroline’s own eyes widened. “It is Sunday, Mama. Naturally she makes an effort when she is at church. But I know as soon as we are back at Penfold Lodge, all she will be fit for is to lie on the sofa and have me read passages from the bible to her.”

  “Well, it is very inconvenient. By the time she is recovered, the Duchess and Lord Rothwell may have left the neighbourhood completely.”

  Caroline thought she could probably vouch for it.

  It was Monday afternoon of the Second Spring meeting and in three days time Solange would have to race. Caroline pulled her cap low over her brow and sat in a slumped, round-shouldered fashion astride the mare as she guided her through the racing crowd. Harry rode Rufus next to her - the better to keep Solange calm - and Flood walked close on her other side.

  The grey mare was palpably nervous, with little shivers of tension running under her skin. Caroline was aware that her own unfamiliar lack of assurance was communicating itself to the horse. She castigated herself silently; she must be more composed. The crowds were not as strange to her as they were to Solange. She had been to meetings countless times before dressed as a boy and she had even raced at them. The trouble was that the last of those times had been some three or four years ago, before what curves she possessed had developed, and when her understanding of society’s standards had been less informed than it was today. The freedom and sense of adventure of coming here with Bertrand and Harry was gone. All she could see now were people who might penetrate her disguise at any minute, exposing her to the world’s censure, possibly earning Harry a ban for using his sister as a jockey - and degrading her in Alexander’s eyes. Alexander. Even through her fear of discovery, Caroline’s heart lurched. Considering how hard she had wished him gone when he was first deposited on their doorstep, his absence from Penfold Lodge these past forty-eight hours had left the house feeling like a shell and herself only half alive. It was amazing how you could make yourself so busy you barely had time to sit down, yet still miss someone.

  Solange fidgeted restively. Caroline hunched lower in the saddle. It wasn’t surprising that the mare was nervous. All around them jostled the nobility and the gentry in their well-cut riding coats and faultless breeches, their horses glossy and their bearing confident. There were also curricles and phaetons cutting across their path, vendors of food and drink shouting their wares, noise everywhere. Somehow Caroline must find within herself the well-spring that enabled her to connect with Solange. In her mind’s eye, she depopulated the Heath, losing the bookmakers and legs gathered around the betting post, wiping from the picture the important-faced race judges and hurrying grooms. She concentrated on the mare’s broad shoulders, on the feel of her honed muscles.

  “Better,” grunted Flood.

  Caroline continued to breathe deeply and evenly, keeping her eyes on Solange’s neck, knowing she was doing it right at last. She could feel the horse becoming calmer with every pace.

  “Fortune!” said a surprisingly glad voice close by them. “What’s this? More of your training?”

  And now Caroline really daren’t look up.

  “Good day, Rothwell,” said Harry cheerfully. “Yes, as you can see, I am doing my level best to rob you.”

  “I will try not to hold it against you,” said Alexander with a laugh. “It is a good idea. Don’t want her bolting from the crowd on Thursday before she’s even got to the starting line.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” replied Harry.

  “I see you’re riding Rufus. Now, why do I get the impression that your sister has been discussing breeding programmes with you?”

  “Ah well, she knows her stuff, does Caro. Good meeting today, isn’t it? I won’t keep you. Daresay I’ll run across you again later.”

  Alexander lowered his voice, but Caroline was so attuned to him she could make out the words clearly. “Is your lad well? That’s the least at ease I’ve ever seen him.”

  Harry laughed. “Oh, Brown is like Solange. Not overly keen on people. He’ll be all right on the day.”

  “I bow to your experience. Is your sister...” Was that a catch in his voice? “Is your sister in good health?”

  “Never better. She’s bamboozled Mama into thinking Mrs P needs her, so she is fixed at Penfold Lodge for the present, happy as a grig. It makes the place more homely, you know?”

  “Indeed I was very comfortable there. I... I am glad she is in good spirits.”

  They moved on. Caroline didn’t know whether she was happy to have been close to Alexander, glad he was well, pleased he had asked after her, or terrified in case he recognised her. A mix of all, she thought, and though every step they took increased the distance between them and made her safer, she felt an absurd impulse to cry.

  “Hey, Alex,” called Giles d’Arblay’s voice from quite a long way behind.

  Caroline gave a start at the same time as Solange’s muscles bunched. Oh, you idiot, she berated herself, one lapse of concentration and see what happens! She threw herself flat along the horse’s neck, crooning encouragement into her ear as Solange tried to plunge left into Rufus, then right into Flood’s rock-like reassurance. All Caroline’s own agitation was subsumed in the need to keep her mount tranquil.

  Calm, Solange, calm, she willed urgently. What sort of stupid idea had this been? Whose complacent idiocy had suggested it? With the throng on the Heath this afternoon there would be fatalities for sure if Solange bolted. Baulked, the mare gave a last long quiver, then snorted and relaxed. Caroline had never been so thankful in her life. She lay for a moment more against the long, warm neck, feeling the sweat drip from her brow onto Solange’s mane, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.

  “We’ll do this again tomorrow,” she murmured to Harry as they walked on. “I’ll take her home now.”

  Harry and Flood exchanged glances. “Another quarter hour would be better if you can hold her,” rumbled Flood. “We’ll not go anywhere near milord.”

  Caroline bit her lip; she knew she was being a coward. More work now meant less on Thursday. Solange came first. She had to. “Very well,” she agreed. And after all, what with the very real fear of physical danger both to herself and the crowd around them just then, her worries about being unmasked as a female seemed cobweb-puny by comparison.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw the lad Brown control Solange’s sideways skitter. He found he was holding his breath at the way both Harry and the groom radiated sudden tension. Not Brown, though. Even as Alex watched, he became one with the animal, soothing and calming her. Odd how the boy was ungainly when walking her, but a thing of beauty at any speed. It must be as Fortune had said, he was awkward out of his own medium. Alex knew an absurd impulse to go after them and call the bet off, but here was Giles, pushing his horse through the crowd.

  “Ho, Alex, didn’t you hear me?”

  Alex turned. “Giles. You are quite a stranger. I thought to have seen you these last two
days at Cheveley.” Although he was just as happy that he hadn’t.

  Giles looked pleased with himself. “I have been frying other fish. Yesterday, for example, I was taking tea after church with a certain goldsmith’s daughter and her aunt. The trade connection is a trifle lowering, to be sure, but one has to make sacrifices.”

  A shiver of distaste passed through Alex at Giles’s cold-bloodedness. “You are aware Miss Taylor considers herself engaged to young Fortune?”

  His friend laughed. “There’s nothing in that. It is fathers who make matches, not pretty widgeons. One can always win them over in the bedchamber once the deed is done. And with this particular widgeon, it will not even be a hardship.”

  “You are not serious?” said Alex, the appalling sentiment sticking in his craw.

  “Of course I am. She’s a gift. How often does one run across an heiress whose papa is in love with the aristocracy? A baronet’s son may not be as good as a lord, but he was mightily impressed by my castle.”

  “He wouldn’t be if he saw it.”

  The satisfied expression slipped. “Dammit, Alex, it’s all very well for you with a thriving estate to draw on for funds, I’m damn near rolled up.”

  “My funds as you call them, require work and good husbandry to replenish. If you would only take time to add to the farms your godfather left you, you too would reap the benefit.”

  “What? Go up to Yorkshire to dicker with a pack of thieves? You must be mad.” Giles rose in his saddle, craning to see over the crowd. “Looks as if they’ll be off soon. Osman’s a cert for this one, don’t you think? By the by, Alex, if today goes badly, I’ll need to borrow a thousand until the quarter.”

  Only wager what you can afford to lose.

  “No,” said Alex slowly. “No, I really think it is time you stood on your own feet. I am not going to be your emergency purse any more.”

  Giles shrugged. “As you like. But I don’t know what else you are going to do with your money.”

  Caroline’s face appeared in Alex’s mind. “I may have some thoughts of marriage,” he said off-handedly. Marriage. The word tasted strange on his tongue. But the images it brought with it were catch-breath seductive.

  Giles’s laughter could be heard well above the crowd. “No really, that’s coming it too strong. What, you? Leg-shackled to one of those chattering, fawning, society ladies you despise? You’d be divorced within a day. Far better to lend me a couple of thousand than to tamely hand your bank-book into their pretty little claws.”

  Alex’s thoughts snapped back. “A couple of thousand is it now? If you are that far in tick, you shouldn’t bet.”

  Already setting off for the start, Giles glanced at him in amazement. “Stap me, that villain must have hit you harder than we knew. Come to Newmarket and not bet? Now I know you are mad.”

  Giles’s favoured horse didn’t win, but there was no sign of annoyance on his face as they moved back up the flat to the Rowley Mile marker for the next race. “The meeting’s young yet,” he said cheerfully. “I fancy Domine Sampson next.”

  Alex frowned, his attention caught. Wasn’t Domine Sampson the horse Caroline and Harry had mentioned as having performed more poorly than expected at the previous meeting? He was about to drop a warning, but was distracted by catching sight of an unexpected face. “Why is Jessop here?” he exclaimed. “I left him no such orders. He should be at the White Hart still.”

  “He brought my spare mount,” said Giles.

  “What is wrong with your own man?”

  “I let him go. Too unreliable. I knew you wouldn’t mind me using Jessop while you were laid up.”

  Alex felt another spurt of annoyance. First Giles was annexing his money, now his grooms. And he was unworried about losing his previous stake and proposed to throw good money after bad now. Yes, he had been the same ever since they were boys, but... “You may keep Jessop,” he said abruptly. “I will make you over the papers tonight.”

  “Eh?” Paying for the man himself evidently hadn’t been in Giles’s plan. “But then you’ll be a groom short.”

  “Not so. I am leaving Solange at Penfold Lodge.”

  Giles roared with laughter a second time. “Alex, your wits are turning. You are never imagining that greenhorn puppy really can turn your Widowmaker into a race winner?”

  It was fortunate that Chieftain was such a composed horse. A more highly-strung animal might have started trampling around, the way his rider was mangling the reins. “It matters not,” said Alex curtly. “Miss Caroline Fortune has expressed a wish to purchase her.”

  “Ha, the chit’s as soft in the head as her brother. I’d get the money off her before the race if I were you, Alex. You won’t get it after.” He plunged into the ring of gentlemen around the betting post.

  Alex nudged Chieftain away and over towards where the Duke of Rutland was holding court. To be sure, two days was not that long a test period to give oneself, but he thought he might usefully call on Caroline tomorrow. To thank her, of course. And to mention Giles visiting Miss Taylor. A friendly act, that was all. Nothing else.

  Yet.

  “My lord, this is an unexpected surprise.” Caroline could not mask the thrill of pleasure Alexander’s entry into the morning room gave her.

  “I hope I am not disturbing you?”

  He did not look overly concerned that she might have better things to do. “Not at all,” she said politely. “Mrs Penfold is mastering a singularly complicated new stitch and I am wondering how best to account to my cousin for all the hay we have fed to the horses this month. What do you think? Should I hide it amongst the corn and the oats and lay the whole tally boldly before him, though he might suffer a seizure on his eyes leaping immediately to the total? Or should I lead up to it gradually with the final sum tucked over the page?”

  “As I have never met your cousin, I cannot say. For myself I prefer to know straight away what I must deal with.”

  “I should have guessed you would not hold with flummery.” It was absurd that she couldn’t seem to think straight. There were so many things she wanted to talk to him of, but she had lost the knack of launching into them. “My brother tells me he saw you yesterday. I hope you had better luck than he did.”

  He hailed the subject with alacrity. Was it possible that he was also finding conversation difficult? Caroline could not help but be gratified. “No, I did not,” he said now, “and I must take you both to task for sending me wrong. I am quite sure I remember you mentioned Grafton’s Minuet as a sound horse and yet Lake’s Domine Sampson trounced her yesterday and lost me my stake.”

  Caroline chuckled. “That will teach you not to be guided by anything other than your own good sense. We lost too.”

  “As did several others. I tell you, Giles had to be very circumspect indeed last night since Grafton was dining at Cheveley with us.”

  “Ah.” Caroline took a deep breath. She did not want to do this, to break the pleasure of seeing him again properly for the first time in three days, but she had her duty as a friend to think of. “That leads me to something I would as lief not mention. It is fortunate you are here, my lord. I had a letter from Louisa this morning.”

  But Alexander spoke at the same time. “In actual fact I came to warn you...”

  He broke off and she met his eyes, astonished. “About Mr d’Arblay?”

  “I... yes.”

  Caroline heart leapt as she hastily rearranged what she had been going to say. She had really not expected him to feel guilty on Mr d’Arblay’s account. Oh, she was so glad she had misjudged him. She wasted a full minute praising him to herself. “I beg your pardon. I know he is your friend, but I find I cannot repose any trust in him.”

  He leant forward and removed from her hands the pen she had been fiddling with. “Be easy, you will break it. I was going to tell you Giles has been laying siege to the alderman. He has been my friend for many years, and frequently a good companion. He may even be genuinely attached to Miss Taylor. But I
fear he has a want of steadiness that would make him an unsuitable husband.”

  It was an enormous admission from a man who was so much in the habit of being right. Caroline could not compound his sense of his own failings further. She was proud of him for admitting as much and indeed, for her purposes, it would suffice. She had been dreading pointing out to him, for example, that had Lady Jersey not arrived at that inn in Stamford, Giles would have been perfectly placed to dismiss Alexander’s sister’s suitor with a grand flourish himself and offer comfort. Almost certainly a lot more comfort than the spoilt young heiress bargained for. Giles going straight to the George while Alexander chased one false trail after another indeed! It smacked of so much contrivance, Caroline was astonished Alexander hadn’t seen it for himself. “Will you talk to Louisa’s father?” she asked.

  He looked startled. “I? Betray Giles to a man I hardly know? Such an undertaking would be unthinkable.”

  Caroline’s spirits fell. Of course it would be impossible. She kept forgetting that he had only recently come amongst them. Even so, she made one last attempt. “It is well known in the town that you pay his bills. Just mentioning that fact to Alderman Taylor might be sufficient.”

  His face twisted as if she had given him a draught of some particularly noxious medicine. “Well known?”

  “Yes. At least, it is to me because I talk to our grooms. In Newmarket we are sadly used to impecunious young men spending freely what they do not have, and have learnt to identify them and whether payment is likely to be forthcoming from whatever source. It will not be such common report in Bury St Edmunds though, so the alderman is unlikely to be aware of the situation.”

  Profound distaste crossed Alexander’s face. “Caroline, I cannot.” He jumped up and took a hasty turn about the room.

  Feeling wretched, Caroline glanced over at Mrs Penfold, absorbed in her knitting, then straightened her back and followed Alexander to where he was staring rigidly out of the far window. He didn’t turn around.

  “Have I done this?” he asked in a low, strained voice. “Have I caused Giles to be this way because I do always settle his accounts?”

 

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