Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123)

by Coulter, Catherine

  She wanted desperately to go with him; she was his partner after all, but she knew deep in that well of knowledge she was convinced women were born with, that this was something he had to handle himself. She knew it was, simply, men dealing with men, drawing boundaries, meting out retribution for breaking rules.

  “What about Elgin and Charles Grandison?”

  “I’ll be sending a message over to Lord Grimsby, asking him to have them there when I arrive, if, that is, Mr. Clooney has answers for me.”

  Hallie said, “I wonder if all three of them paid to have Kindred and Potter shoot Lorry.”

  He smiled. “Elgin doesn’t have any money. Would Charles do that? I wouldn’t have thought so.” She never looked away from his stern face, so beautiful in the morning sunlight streaking through the window that she wanted to weep. Or swoon, like Cook, and sing arias.

  She said, “Will you take Potter and Kindred with you to confront Lord Grimsby?”

  “No,” Jason said, “it’s not necessary.” He strode to her, leaned down to kiss her mouth, and gave her a blinding smile. “I’m going to nail his butt to the stable door.”

  “Whose?”

  Jason laughed, patted her cheek.

  “Master Jason.”

  “Yes, Petrie? You’re still here, watching everything?”

  “Certainly, it is my duty. I wished to say that your boots shine much brighter this morning than the mistress’s.”

  Jason looked at his face in his shiny boots presented to him that morning by Petrie.

  “It is my opinion, sir, that her use of anise seed is overrated.”

  Jason said to Hallie, “I told Petrie to write to Old Fudds and find out the exact measurement since I doubted you would tell him.”

  “That’s true,” Hallie said. “Still, you did well, Petrie.”

  Petrie preened.

  “Ah, listen. I hear Cook singing, and that means she’s scrambling your eggs as we speak, with just a pinch of thyme, the way you like them. Are you coming back to eat them?”

  “Hallie,” he said. “Do you know that last night I realized how simply saying your name—Oh, Petrie, are you still lurking? Go see to Mr. Clooney’s comfort. I will be along in a moment. Go. As I said—merely mentioning your name, even in passing, makes me feel warm all the way to my heels.”

  “I’m very glad about that. Oh, the devil. I’ll tell you, why not? I love you, Jason Sherbrooke, even though Cook will never scramble eggs specially for me like she does for you.”

  She loved him? It amazed him, nearly brought him to his knees, nearly pulled a shout of pleasure right out of his mouth. He said, “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Possibly not, but what am I to do? It’s there, deep inside me, this love for you, and I know it will never go away. You don’t have to say anything, Jason. Tell Cook that you’re bequeathing your lovely scrambled eggs to me this morning.”

  “It’s done.” He gave her another quick hard kiss on her mouth, and was gone.

  When Cook came into the dining room a few minutes later, Hallie said, “Master Jason said I could eat his eggs.”

  Mrs. Millsom nodded sadly. “Yes, the beautiful young master apologized to me, told me it was not to be.”

  She looked ready to burst into tears.

  “He is meeting with a man right this minute, Mrs. Millsom or I know he would be here.”

  But Cook wasn’t listening. She carried the plate of scrambled eggs in her arms like a baby, walked to the windows and looked out. When she saw the master striding toward the stables, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Master Jason, come back before your eggs disappear down the mistress’s gullet! Bring the scrawny little man with you!”

  Hallie heard him shout back, “Mrs. Millsom, please let the mistress eat my eggs this morning. She’s very possibly with child and I want my heir to grow big and strong.”

  Mrs. Millsom whipped about to stare at her.

  Hallie shrugged. “One never knows. Give me the eggs, Mrs. Millsom. The last thing we want is a paltry heir.”

  “Eat them all mistress. Soon now you’ll be puking up your innards in the mornings.”

  “That is not a happy thought, Mrs. Millsom.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Two hours later, Jason rode Dodger up the curving, oak-canopied drive to Lord Grimsby’s manor house, Abbott Grange. He imagined lengthening the drive to Lyon’s Gate, perhaps adding a couple of curves for interest, and planting oaks like these. In twenty years or so there would be a canopy of thick green leaves over their heads as well. His father was right. The future looked remarkably fine to him too. He wondered if Hallie was indeed carrying his child. Very possibly, he thought, very possibly indeed. He grinned like a fool and whistled one of the duchess’s ditties.

  It was a warm day, the sun bright and strong overhead, wild roses bloomed over stone fences, and sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He saw a single peacock sweeping about on the front lawn, tail feathers spread, and wondered where the recipient of all this glory was hiding. Peahens, he knew, were notoriously fickle.

  He left Dodger in the care of a stable lad he’d seen at the Beckshire race. The lad looked nervous, understandably so, given he had to know Jason held Kindred. Jason leaned close. “You must be quite shorthanded since I have both Kindred and Potter. You’ll take good care of Dodger, won’t you, lad?”

  “Oh yes, sir, yes I will. He’s a lovely boy, strong teeth he’s got, and the Devil’s eyes.”

  “You mean he’s got mean eyes?”

  “Oh no, sir, he’s got eyes that see every sin a man’s ever committed.”

  “I trust he won’t see you commit any sins.” Jason patted Dodger’s neck. He watched the lad give Dodger a carrot while he hummed at him in a lovely deep voice.

  Lord Grimsby’s butler, a droopy-eyed old man who looked ready to sink to the floor in a stupor, looked Jason up and down and said in the booming young voice, “I don’t see why my master is so afraid of you, young man. I imagine you smile and the angels sing, but who cares? Ever since the Beckshire races, you’ve fair to made him gibber like that idiot peacock.”

  “Perhaps you will soon gibber as well,” Jason said, and gave him a smile meant to intimidate, which only made the old man say, “You’re right handsome, sir, too handsome, my master says. Lady Grimsby says his jealousy is pathetic.” He paused, cocked his head a moment. “Yes, I hear angels singing right this moment. Follow me, young sir, and let’s see if his lordship will see you.”

  Jason grinned at the back of the butler’s bald head as he followed him to the drawing room. He lightly touched his hand to the old man’s arm. “You needn’t announce me. Allow me the pleasure.” Jason tapped once on the closed door and walked in.

  He hummed with pleasure at the sight of Charles Grandison and Elgin Sloane, both sprawled in chairs, listening to Lord Grimsby. All three here and accounted for. Since they’d gotten here quickly, it meant they were worried. When they turned toward him, their expressions were identical—boys caught stealing the vicar’s sacramental wine.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I am pleased Lord Grimsby got you here so very quickly.”

  “Yes,” Lord Grimsby said, not rising from his chair. He looked wary and ill-tempered. Well, in all fairness, he had been two stable hands short for nearly a week.

  “Let me say first of all, my lord, that Kindred is fine, at least for the moment.”

  “Kindred did you say? I fired Kindred a number of months ago. I don’t know who he’s working for now. But not me. Now see here, Jason—”

  Jason smiled. “Hello, Charles. Elgin. I can see that the three of you are very intent on some project.”

  Charles said, “May I ask what your wife is doing to poor Kindred?”

  “Preparing him for a long voyage to Botany Bay?”

  “Botany Bay! That’s bloody absurd.”

  “Who cares,” Elgin said. “The silly blighter got himself caught.”

  Charles Grandison said, “Don’t you think Botan
y Bay is a bit extreme, Jason?”

  Jason merely smiled.

  “You come here to threaten my former stable lad with deportation to Botany Bay? Good riddance to him. Kindred always was a troublemaker, that’s why I dismissed him. There’s nothing more to be said. You may leave us now.”

  “Oh no.”

  Lord Grimsby eyed him for a moment, then got control of himself. “What do you want, Jason? Why did you want to see all of us? It’s a damned impertinence, boy. Oliphant shouldn’t have let you in, damned mince-head.”

  “I intimidated him, my lord.”

  “That’s not possible. The old relic doesn’t see well enough anymore to be intimidated.”

  Charles said, as he lazily flicked a bit of lint off his sleeve, “Surely, Jason, one doesn’t ship a man to Botany Bay because one believes he might have planned to shoot a gun at the racetrack. Everyone has discussed it, and all agree that the fellow who shot your jockey is the one you need to find, not this poor Kindred fellow.”

  “Actually, I’m pleased to tell you that I have the man who actually shot my jockey.” He smiled at Lord Grimsby. “Potter sends his regards, my lord. He isn’t very happy at this point because Kindred told him what his punishment will be. According to my wife, it will take a good four hours to complete.”

  “Potter? That nitwit? He knows nothing, Jason, nothing at all.”

  “My men found him where Kindred said he’d be—at his brother’s cottage in Cranston, scared to his toes. He and Kindred both have told me of your instructions, my lord. At least you didn’t order them to kill any horse or jockey, merely disable the horse that looked like it would win, if, that is, any horse was ahead of Lamplighter.”

  Charles roared to his feet and advanced on Lord Grimsby. “You would have had one of your villains shoot my Ganymede?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Charles. Sit down. Jason is trying to set us against each other.”

  Jason said, “Yes, Charles, if Ganymede had been the clear leader, why then, I fancy he or your jockey would have gotten a ball of lead in him.”

  “No, that’s a lie. Elgin, tell him that’s a lie.”

  “It’s a lie, Charles. If I were to believe the lie, why then, that would mean Brutus was also at risk. My uncle would never seek to harm a horse that belonged to my heiress.”

  Jason said, “I fancy Lord Grimsby would shoot whatever needed shooting for Lamplighter to win. But, Charles, feel free to believe what you wish to believe.”

  Lord Grimsby exploded, “Now, listen here, Jason. This is racing! All sorts of things are done in racing, a bit of mischief, a bit of pain, it’s simply part of the sport, it doesn’t alarm anyone, it adds excitement and suspense.”

  Charles said, “Actually, it makes me rather rabid. You know my reputation, my lord. You surely wouldn’t be such a fool as to disregard the punishments I mete out if anyone, let me repeat, anyone tries to harm my horses.”

  “Of course I do. I’m not a fool. That’s why this is all nonsense. Besides, you’re different, Charles, you take it all too seriously.”

  Elgin said, “Will you punish Jason, Charles? After all, his jockey kicked yours off Ganymede.”

  “That’s true enough, Charles, can I expect a visit from you?”

  “No,” Charles said.

  “Good, since your jockey started the whole business in the first place,” Jason said. He turned back to Lord Grimsby. “My lord, what if one of the other owners had shot Lamplighter?”

  “I’d kill the blighter.”

  “Just so,” Charles said and took a sip of his tea.

  “Dammit, boy, none of this makes any difference. Listen to me now. It was just a flesh wound, nothing of any importance at all. Dodger still managed to win the race, so what’s there to say?”

  “You wish me to tell my jockey that the bullet wound in his arm added nothing more than some lovely color to his racing livery?”

  “A tear through the flesh, nothing more,” Elgin Sloane said.

  “Ah, Elgin, how did you know it was only a flesh wound?”

  “Everyone from here to London knows about it. Mr. Blaystock was quite upset. He wished the bullet had been more true, that it had at least knocked your jockey off that damned Dodger, so that his Brutus would have then won.”

  Charles tsked. “Ganymede would have won if Jason’s jockey hadn’t kicked my jockey off his back. No, Elgin, Brutus wouldn’t have won no matter how many horses’ rumps he’d managed to bite, an interesting ploy, I admit, but doesn’t Mr. Blaystock find it somewhat unpredictable?” He turned to Lord Grimsby. “I find myself wondering, sir, if your Lamplighter were to run a straight race if he would beat Ganymede. I tend to doubt it, though Lamplighter is a fine animal. Had there been a straight race between Ganymede and Dodger, I am sure in my own mind that Ganymede would have taken the prize.”

  Jason said, “Dodger ran as straight a race as he could. It took Lorry time to kick back at your jockey, Charles. I wish it hadn’t been necessary, but you know it was. Listen to me, all of you. At the very least all these shenanigans distract the horses and the jockeys. I’ve always believed it would be better to let the horses run without interference.”

  “That will never happen,” Lord Grimsby said. “Never in a thousand years. Jockeys like to use their whips, like to kick their opponents, like to squeeze in on a horse until he falls back. As for the horses, they’re devious, it’s bred into them. Mr. Blaystock told me Brutus was born to bite. Horses would be so bored if they didn’t fight that they wouldn’t run their best. They need distractions to keep them going.”

  Jason said, “Dodger doesn’t need distractions, he doesn’t like them, nor do I.” He didn’t say that Eclipse, however, kicked up his back legs when he felt a horse getting too close, something he’d done naturally the first time he raced. “However, don’t you believe there must be a line drawn?”

  Lord Grimsby shrugged. “It happens. It will always happen. If you’re serious about racing, Jason, you’ll accustom yourself to the way it’s done.”

  Charles said, shaking his head, “Five hundred pounds, that is quite a purse Dodger took, Jason. I imagine you also bet a good amount for Dodger to win. I myself wagered a couple of pounds on him, the odds were so long. Do you mind if I ask what you won?”

  “Ten thousand pounds or thereabouts. All my relatives did well too. I’ve also gotten notes of thanks from others who wagered on Dodger to win.”

  “That’s not fair,” Elgin Sloane said bitterly. “No one told me how very fast Dodger was, how well trained. Damnation, you have a female for a partner. Who would believe you would know what you’re doing? It’s simply not fair. At least there won’t be long odds again. Why didn’t you tell me, Charles?”

  “I myself didn’t realize how very fast he was, Elgin. I only won a couple hundred pounds, nothing really.”

  Jason said, “Do I wish you well, Elgin? Will you be marrying Brutus’s mistress?”

  “Yes. Thank God she isn’t like Hallie. She knows nothing about horses and would be disgusted were she to have to witness a mating. She knows when to yell her head off at the races and that’s enough for any woman. Her father doesn’t know much more, except biting. He enjoys seeing his horses bite the competition.”

  “Then you’ll have a free hand,” Jason said. He walked to the fireplace to lean against the mantel, arms folded over his chest. “Charles, do you recall telling me that no one tried to shoot either your jockeys or horses because the consequences were so painful?”

  Charles Grandison nodded.

  “Hallie and I agreed that we would outdo you if anyone had the nerve to try to cause us harm. I am here to tell Lord Grimsby of his punishment.”

  “Now, see here—”

  “My lord,” Charles said in a sigh, stretching his long legs out in front of him, “did I not tell you not to try your skullduggery on Jason? Did I not tell you that he was a serious man? Look at what he did to my jockey for a small jostle during the race.”

  “Yes, but
he knows nothing about racing, nothing at all! He raced in America, the former Colonies, for God’s sake. There is nothing there, nothing remarkable, including horses or jockeys.”

  “Actually, the Americans have skullduggery down to a fine art. I hated it there as well.”

  “You won the damned race, Jason. You said you were going to announce my punishment? You young pup, your father won’t allow you to do anything to me, why I’ve known him and your mother since before you and your twin were born.”

  “That’s a very long time, my lord,” Jason said, and shook his head. “That’s why I am surprised you would be so stupid. Can you imagine my father ever allowing anyone to harm someone close to him?”

  “Your father understands racing, understands the risks, the challenges, the little eccentricities. Another thing, you are not your father. All know never to cross him, or there’s hell to pay.”

  “You’re right, I am not my father. Actually, both James and I are much meaner. Now, I have weighed both Kindred’s and Potter’s guilt in this matter. I’m not sending them to Botany Bay. My wife has devised a much more effective punishment. You will see two very chastened men when they return here. I imagine news of their punishment will spread. Everyone will hear about it. It will be more and more difficult for owners to find minions to do their mischief. As for you, sir, as I’ve said, I’ve decided upon your punishment.”

  “Impudent puppy!”

  “You won’t race for a full year, indeed, not until the Beckshire race next August.”

  Lord Grimsby jumped to his feet, his face crimson, shaking his fist in Jason’s face. “You can’t give me orders like that, you young bastard! I won’t stand for it. Get out of my house!”

  CHAPTER 42

  Charles said, “Jason, don’t misunderstand me, I think it’s excellent retribution. But tell me how you will prevent Lord Grimsby from racing for a year.”

  “You’ve used beatings against the actual miscreants, Charles, and you wounded two owners in duels when they shot one of your jockeys and one of your horses. I don’t like duels, they’re too dangerous, the outcome too unpredictable. And they are against the law. I don’t fancy having to haul my wife off to the Continent or back to Baltimore because I got caught after shooting some fool racehorse owner. No, I prefer something more bloodless, but infinitely more painful.”