Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  Robert’s lips pressed tightly together. “There is more to it than that, but I’m not in a position to discuss it with you.”

  “If not you, then who? You are my guardian.”

  “Yes, which means I am looking out for your best interests. It does not imply I must inform you of all the dealings I undertake as Earl of Northcotte.”

  She sat back in her chair. He made no sense. “We are discussing my marriage, not the running of the estate.”

  “The lives of all of us, Mother, you, myself, are connected to the estate in a multitude of ways. In my case, it will continue until my death. For you and Mother, it could alternately end by marriage.”

  Joanna shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t expect Mama to marry again, when she rarely leaves her room since Father died. Even attending the First Spring Meeting was too much for her to bear, and she’s been in her room since we returned. She will never recover from the loss of her beloved husband.”

  “It hurts me to see her thus. I would never force her to leave our home, or to marry, but I do believe she would be happier with companionship. If she met a widower with no need of an heir, they might console each other in their remaining years.”

  Their aunt came to mind, with her desire to remarry, and Joanna could see his suggestion came from a place of love. She also wished their mother would be happy again.

  Still, he’d said their lives were connected to the estate. That meant financially, she was sure. Were they in financial straits? No one had ever said anything. They hadn’t made any changes to their lifestyle in the years after Father died.

  But how would marrying her off quickly save any money? Her pin money was a negligible amount. That hadn’t bothered her because she had no need for new bonnets, laces or reticules. Before they came to London, she was quite happy to wear last year’s dress to assemblies in the local village. No one there looked down on her for being dressed in anything less than the height of fashion.

  Mama had most likely been pleased when Joanna wore something other than her riding costume and boots.

  No matter how Joanna looked at it, she could see no way her marriage would improve her brother’s financial situation. And she couldn’t think of another reason for Robert’s urgency. She didn’t care enough to consider the matter further, for all she wanted at the moment was to be with Patriot. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I promise to make a choice soon, may I go to Goodwood?”

  “Joanna, my decision had been made.”

  Those were Father’s words, and they brooked no discussion. She folded her arms across her chest and wrinkled her nose, grateful Robert had the paper in front of him. She wished she were young enough to get away with sticking her tongue out at him. He treated her like a child, so at times like this she wanted to act like one.

  ~*~

  This entire game of finding a husband was too dull to keep her interest. She told Amelia so when they trotted on horseback together down Rotten Row that afternoon. “I was so excited to come to Town, but all the gilt of my expectations has tarnished. I thought I would have suitors. I dreamed men would be lined up to fill my dance card, and come calling in the afternoon to find out where I would be that evening.”

  “But they have been,” Amelia replied. “Perhaps not droves of gentlemen, but more than one or two. Mama says the wars have taken away too many young men. In her day, there were many more eligible men in the Marriage Mart. Now, it seems they are all older widowers looking for mothers for their children. What of Mr. Lumley? Has he not revealed his intentions?”

  “He has not. And he will be gone for the next sennight at a race meeting. I can only assume he has no intentions beyond entertaining himself while his sister shops the marriage mart.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  “Well, unless his looks are very suggestive and he does them in front of Northcotte, I’ve no hope of marrying him.” She reined her mare to a walk when they approached other riders. “I want to go back to my life before London.”

  “Leave Town, you mean? Where would you go? Anyone who is worth notice is here during the Season.”

  Except Mr. Lumley, when his horses were entered in a race, Joanna thought. “Patriot is racing at Goodwood next week. I miss him, and would enjoy watching him run again. I hate not seeing him win. It’s not the same, reading it in the papers.”

  Amelia’s laughter rang out. “You would leave all these marriageable young men for a horse?”

  “There are men worth marrying at the race meetings, too. And I’ve a common interest with those gentlemen, outside of the desire for a family.”

  Her friend turned to look at her. “Oh, I understand, now. Your Mr. Lumley will be at Goodwood.”

  “He isn’t my Mr. Lumley, didn’t I just explain that? And yes, he will be there. He mentioned that his brother, Trey, would be attending some of the assemblies with Lady Hannah in his absence.”

  “Oh, that one. Why does Knightwick never attend? I would love to dance with him. I hear he moves divinely. When you marry Mr. Lumley, will you put in a good word for me with Knightwick?” Amelia’s laughter was contagious, and altogether too loud for polite society. Joanna loved it.

  “I shall be sure to do so. But first, I must capture Mr. Lumley’s heart. If only I could slip away without Northcotte noticing.”

  “Won’t your brother be at Goodwood? You’d be seen. You need another scheme.”

  Joanna shrugged, a gesture Mama hated. “Another dream, you mean. Another gentleman’s heart to steal, and soon.”

  “The Season isn’t half gone yet, you have time.”

  “No, I haven’t.” She glanced about to make sure no one was within hearing distance before continuing. “Northcotte is getting anxious for me to marry. Sir Frederick has spoken to him about marrying me, but my brother put him off.”

  Amelia groaned. “It can’t be true. No one’s family could ever support a match with that man. What does he have to offer that might tempt Northcotte?”

  “I don’t know. A horse, perhaps? That would make sense. Northcotte mentioned some financial concerns. A winning racer would bring in needed funds.”

  “Your brother would trade you for a horse?”

  Joanna ducked her head. “I don’t wish to believe it. He loves me. He’s a good brother. But he’s changed so much since he inherited, I no longer feel I know him completely.”

  Chapter Ten

  David sat in his room in the inn near the Duke of Richmond’s estate where the Goodwood Race Meetings were held. The heavy fog outside kept the small space in darkness, which didn’t help David’s mood. He was on edge and blamed it on the upcoming race. “I hope this clears before the meeting begins. We can’t have any horses going off course, and how will the judge be able to tell who won?”

  His brother, Knightwick, shook his head, looking at David as if he were quite mad. “They won’t hold the race until they can do so fairly.”

  “I’m not so sure. It seems the fates have it in for Triton. What if the judge can’t see the jockey?”

  “I don’t think the orange and yellow Peter will be wearing can be missed, even in a fog.”

  David rose and stretched. “I hate waiting for the meetings to begin.”

  “You are more restless than Triton when he’s in his stall. I swear, he can smell the pending competition.”

  “He knows the routine. Strange paddocks, strange stalls, familiar horses nearby. It all adds up to being allowed to run.”

  “Now, if he could run a bit faster and win some of the more important races, I’d be quite pleased with him.”

  Turning to confront his brother, David said, “You aren’t pleased with his performance? He’s the best runner we’ve had since Zephyr.”

  Knightwick lifted his hands, palms out. “I am not displeased, but more wins would be preferable. He needs wins to increase his value as a stud.”

  “He’ll have the wins. He loves
to run, loves to compete. He just has the bad luck of always coming up against Northcotte’s Patriot.”

  “Perhaps you should run Triton in the northern meetings.”

  Pacing back to the window, David pushed the heavy, wheat-colored damask curtain aside. “I’ve the impression wherever I run Triton, Northcotte will have his horse there. He’s determined to destroy us.”

  “Are you certain that’s his aim? The rivalry was between our fathers. His is now dead, and ours never attends a meeting.” Knightwick absently polished the toe of his boot with his handkerchief.

  “I think he’s carrying on where his father left off. Who else would have tried to poison our horses last year? No one had anything to gain from it.”

  “I’m not certain we can blame Zephyr’s death on Northcotte. I thought you were searching for proof, not trying to bring down the earl.”

  David slumped into the empty chair. “That was my first intention. However, the longer I’ve searched without finding evidence I know exists, the more I see I might never prove the Hursts were behind the killing. But if I can keep Northcotte from profiting from it, keep Patriot from winning, I can get revenge for Father.”

  Knightwick rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his thumbs and forefingers together as he sat quietly. “Do you hear yourself? What’s this talk of revenge? Has Father ever asked you to seek it?”

  “Well, no. Not in so many words. But look at him. Look at how broken he has become. He’s an empty shell of a man wandering through his waking hours, enjoying nothing.”

  “And you think seeing Northcotte fail will restore him?”

  David leaned back, throwing his weight on one elbow on the arm of the chair. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I believed having a winning runner again would give him joy.”

  “I don’t believe he’s capable of feeling joy any longer. He speaks to me of starting my nursery, but not with the excitement I expect to see in his eyes at the mention of grandchildren. He seems to be putting his affairs in order. I think his health is failing, not his mind.”

  “Well, can you expect any less after Aunt and Uncle Lumley died last year? He must be intensely aware of his own mortality.”

  “As the earl, he’s always been aware of the need to continue our line. Why should he suddenly feel as though it’s in danger of dying off? I am only weeks past my thirtieth birthday. And there are three of you in the family to inherit, should I fail to produce an heir. Not to mention all the cousins we have.”

  David smiled. “That would never do, letting the earldom fall to me, or Trey, or Sam. You will need to step up at some point and marry, you know.”

  Straightening in his seat, Knightwick pushed his hair off his forehead. “At some point, perhaps. But I’ve little time to think of it now, with keeping all of father’s properties running. Cousin Stephen will be moving into Hambleton Cottage after his wedding next month, did I tell you? He will act as Father’s steward there.”

  “That is good news. He knows farming, but working the land his father left him must be difficult with his injuries. Perhaps he will learn to delegate as a steward. But now that I think on it, I thought he was moving to Yorkshire to be near his mills?”

  “Jane couldn’t tolerate the climate. Hambleton is only a few hours ride from her parents’ home. She will be able to visit often.”

  “That will make Hannah happy. She was quite upset over losing her friend.”

  “You don’t suppose Hannah will take the location of a man’s property into consideration when she gets a marriage offer, do you? I highly doubt it will matter where he lives, if she is in love.”

  David jumped to his feet, unable to sit still. “Don’t mention her marrying. I’m still not certain I care for the thought of some man pawing at her.”

  Knightwick laughed. “You must make an excellent chaperone for her, then. Mother must be quite at ease knowing you are attending the same assemblies. Have you considered doubling your efforts and finding a wife while you’re there? Now that you’ve seen the available ladies, I mean.”

  “I’ve too much on my mind to think about ladies.”

  “That’s not what Hannah writes.”

  David paused in mid-step. “What has she said?”

  “She mentioned one miss in particular. Lady Joanna Hurst, I believe. She said you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

  Grimacing, David muttered, “I suppose she neglected to tell you she was present each time I saw Lady Joanna? And that I was acting as chaperone for our sister.”

  “I suppose she did say something of the sort. But she remarked you seemed to find the lady’s company quite enjoyable.”

  “She is a very pleasant conversationalist. And since she’s Northcotte’s sister, you can get any notion of a friendship out of your mind. I’ve been questioning her about her brother’s stable.”

  “Of course. I should have guessed, knowing how much time a lady of marriageable age spends discussing stud servicing and foaling. Not to mention nefarious plots to poison the best runners in England,” Knightwick said with a smirk.

  “If you thought otherwise, you haven’t met this lady. She claims Northcotte lets her train his runners.”

  Knightwick’s grin spread. “And I let Patience and Madeleine take the reins of the gig sometimes on the road by the house. But it doesn’t mean I’d ask their opinion when it came to choosing horseflesh.”

  David raised an eyebrow. Knightwick had no idea just how knowledgeable Lady Joanna was about horses. But any words David said in her favor would be taken as a sign of affection for her, and he couldn’t admit to having such feelings. “The truth is, I’ve had a change of heart regarding using her for information. She’s a very sweet girl, much like Hannah. I’d kill any man who toyed with her affections as I’ve been doing. I need to find a way to end this. It’s quite ironic, actually. If I were searching for a wife, I can see where a lady with her passion for runners would be the perfect choice.”

  Knightwick nodded. “Hannah has said as much herself. Maybe you should give up this obsession of yours for revenge, and get to know Lady Joanna better. You might not find another woman as suitable later on.”

  Shaking his head, David returned to the window to stare at the fog. The grudge between himself and Northcotte was too large. Even if he allowed his feelings for Lady Joanna to blossom, their relationship would be fraught with tension between the men. She deserved happiness. “It would never work between us. If she found out why I sought her out, she’d never forgive me. What worries me is that her brother apparently wants to marry her off to Sir Frederick Ardwen.”

  “The money lender? There’s only one reason anyone would ever consider that bounder for a husband. Northcotte must be in deep straits.”

  David shoved his hair off his forehead. “I cringe at the thought of that man touching her.”

  “You have become attached, whether you’ll admit it or not. So what will you do about it? Beyond dropping your scheme to bring her brother down.”

  “If he’s in debt to Sir Frederick, he doesn’t need my help in bringing him down. But marry her? I don’t think I’m ready for such a step.” He was not. The fear of her ending up with Sir Frederick probably made his feelings seem stronger than what they were.

  Well, that and the obvious reaction his body had to her. But lust and fear did not make for a happy marriage.

  ~*~

  Once the fog burned off, carriages and riders gathered at the Goodwood racecourse, a straight length of six furlongs measured off on the Duke of Richmond’s estate. Excitement bristled in the air as people discussed which horses were favored to win, and what the odds were on the long shots. David sat upon the broad back of Nemo, the retired runner he used during racing season, when Triton had to be kept in condition or was at a race. Nemo had adjusted to the fact he no longer raced, but at times, he still grew skittish as if he recognized the activity around him.

  Knightwick sat on his horse next to David at the end of the course, whe
re the majority of the crowd was. There were no stands, so viewers sat in their carriages or on horseback, while some sat on Trundle, the Iron Age hill fort that rose above the Downs.

  David rose in the stirrups to look down the course. “What’s keeping them?”

  “Perhaps they had trouble getting the horses lined up to start,” Knightwick suggested.

  As he waited, David noticed a familiar face across the lane. He motioned to his brother. “Is that Tom Edwards?”

  Knightwick waved at the man in question. “It is. I haven’t seen him since last year at this meeting.” Edwards returned the greeting.

  David glanced back down the road, looking for the racers. “I’d like to speak to Edwards after this race. He’s been at most of the race meetings I’ve over the years. He might have heard something about the poisonings.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Knightwick asked, “You aren’t leaving it to the constable to solve?”

  “Whoever killed Zephyr has gotten away with it. I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

  A roar broke out down the course. A short time later, the lead three horses came into view. David strained to see around the carriage parked next to them. The lead horse was large and brown. Patriot. Triton was half a length back. “Come on, boy,” David encouraged softly.

  “Run, come on,” Knightwick called out.

  Triton closed on Patriot. A neck behind, then his nose reached Patriot’s ear. He continued to surge. At the line, Triton’s head was fully out front. The judge called Fernleigh’s colors as the winner. David threw his hat up in the air. “Yes! He did it!”

  He and his brother clapped each other on the back. “Good run,” Knightwick said, his voice thick with pride. “Father will be pleased.”

  Yes, they had more good news for their father. David accepted the congratulations of the people around him, then told his brother he’d return shortly. He led Nemo across the lane in search of Edwards, and found him not far from where he’d watched the race, now in the shade of a large horse-chestnut tree.