She glowered at him and said, “Try eating a roasted sheep’s head, seated on the ground in a tent, as the desert winds are howling, and then tell me how to keep my dress clean.”
“We are neither eating a sheep’s head nor are we in the desert, dear sister, so you might want to adapt to being back in Great Britain.”
Aunt Rosemary disregarded him and wiped her mouth and belched.
His Lordship looked out over the table and addressed his daughter. “My Helena, I asked the Duke of Pemberton to attend this evening, but he declined saying he had pressing matters at hand and would be unable to attend.”
Helena cast a glance at George and replied. “I expect, Father, that is because he has recently become engaged, and I imagine he is consumed with this new development.”
Ralph’s face turned an apple red and he sputtered, “That cannot be. There has been no announcement in The Times. Impossible…”
Aunt Rosemary was enjoying this display immensely, and Helena was taking her time with the details.
“Oh, Father, dear, that is because it is a secret engagement. The lady in question does not wish to be known at this point in time, so his Grace has consented to keep her name anonymous.” Helena cast a quick glance at George who was beaming.
“But he is to marry you!” he insisted.
Rosemary laid her hand on her brother’s arm. “Dearest, sometimes things do not work out as we would like them to.”
“But he is my duke, and you are to be his duchess,” he warbled.
“Not now, it would seem,” Helena said, spearing a sprig of asparagus.
George looked at Helena with a look that asked if he should speak up now about their engagement, but she subtly shook her head.
“Good for old Thomas—a secret fiancé,” Timothy chuckled. “Now the gossips will have a good old natter about who the mystery woman is.”
Ralph turned to his son and announced, “This is not over. I intend to have a word with his Grace. We had an understanding…”
Helena countered, “Oh, Father, please. Let it go. Thomas is free to make his own decisions and, as I have told you many times, the Duke and I have no intention of marrying each other.”
“Then I suppose you had a part in his making that decision,” Ralph accused.
Helena sighed. “Not at all. How could I possibly engineer his marriage to another woman?”
“Then what am I to do with you now?”
Helena and George looked at each other briefly. Helena raised her hand just enough so that George would understand not to say anything yet.
“Now I will have to start all over again trying to find you a suitable husband.”
“Dearest,” Sara spoke up, “Not now. It is your sister’s birthday. Let us celebrate that. We can discuss the other matters another day.”
“Humph,” he growled.
Chapter 12
“Amanda!” he shouted, but his horse kept turning in circles and would not move forward to follow his retreating bride. He called again, but she did not turn back. Her white steed was muscular, strong, almost vicious. While he was looking at her horse close up, she was, at the same time, retreating farther and farther away. And no matter how he directed his black stallion, it would not respond to his command.
Then he called out, “David!” His best friend was standing, or rather floating, on top of a herd of horses—fifteen or twenty—of all colors. Thomas called and called, but David failed to respond as he sped off after the woman he was escaping with.
Then Thomas was engulfed in a storm of falling flowers—swirling and pelting him at the same time—painfully pelting him. He tried to avoid the pummeling flower heads, but they were blinding him, and he spurred his horse forward, but the horse bucked and reared, causing Tomas to fall backward. But he did not hit the ground. Instead, he continued to fall through the storm of flowers—down, down, down...
Thomas bolted upright in his bed. He was sweating and wiped his face with the top sheet. This was not the first time he had dreamt this dream, but for some reason, it now made him giddy.
He got out of bed. It was still dark, but the first blush of morning was bruising the eastern horizon as he threw back the curtains, opened the window, and breathed in the fresh morning air. What a revelation. He now understood. He knew how to use the estate to make it profitable.
He was laughing as he dressed and dashed out of his room and down the grand staircase to the front doors, which he threw open, and raced across the driveway, across the broad lawn, and headed to the open fields to just run and run.
“George, George,” Thomas called out, as he threaded his way through the stables looking for his friend. “George…”
“Over here,” George answered from the far end of the building in the tackle room.
Thomas found him and stood in the doorway as George, dressed in work clothes, lifted recently delivered sacks of feed into neat stacks.
“Your father got you working, eh?”
George gave Thomas a sour look. “You might say that. What brings you here? Feel like lending a hand?”
Thomas laughed. “I hire people to do that.”
George looked grateful to have Thomas appear to give him a break from the feed sacks.
“Then let us go to the house and grab an ale. I have quite a thirst.”
“Now that sounds like something I can help with,” Thomas said as he followed George toward the house.
Inside the kitchen, George led them to the pantry where he poured two glasses of beer from the cask on the shelf.
“Come, I am too dirty for the sitting room, but we can go to my rooms and visit.”
George led the way through the fine country house to his rooms.
“Sit.”
George took a chair by a window overlooking the front lawn with the drive leading from the county road twisting beyond.
Thomas sat forward in the chair and said enthusiastically, “George, I have a great idea, and I want you to join me in a new venture.”
“I am listening.”
“Remember my mare that your father was interested in?”
“Of course. Have you decided to sell her?”
“Not really.” Thomas then proceeded to tell George about the fiasco with the estate’s finances and his uncle’s part in the affair.
“Oh, Thomas, my friend, that is devastating. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Now this is where it becomes exciting, and where you can become involved.”
“Carry on,” George encouraged.
“I have been looking for a way to bring more income through the estate, and I had a dream that gave me the clue I was looking for.”
“A dream? Now that sounds interesting. What have you come up with?”
“Thoroughbred horses.”
“I do not understand.”
“I want to breed, raise, and manage racehorses, and I want you to be my partner in the venture. What do you say?” Thomas stood up in his enthusiasm.
“Me? What would you have me do?”
“You have more expertise with horses than I do. You follow the races, know the trainers, know other breeders, and have many more contacts in the racing world than I do.”
“And the capital to buy these horses?” George asked. “It sounds to me like you are lacking that right now. It is a very expensive proposition, and, although the rewards can be high, the overhead is high as well.”
“Excellent points. But I have the ability to borrow. And I have many friends who could very well be interested in investing in such a venture.”
“And my share of the profits, dear friend? What were you thinking?” George asked with a smile.
“It will partially depend on what slice our investors will want from the total pie. But I was thinking you might have thirty percent, I might have forty percent and the investors thirty.”
“You forty, me thirty? How do you figure that?”
“Because the operation would be located at Pemberton an
d I would provide the stabling, organizing the capital, and using my name—which could be very persuasive,” Thomas added. “What do you think?”
“Hmm. It is certainly worth considering.” George began pacing his sitting room, thinking. He turned back to Thomas. “What if I could convince Father to come up with all or part of the capital? Might that change the equation in any way?”
“Your father could finance the entire operation?”
“It would depend. Have you a budget worked out yet?”
“Not yet. That will be my next task, but I wanted to sound you out about this first.”
“Most intriguing.” He paced some more then added, “And this might be exactly what would allow Helena and me to marry. I would have my own income independent of my father’s estate and the only outstanding obstacle would be Helena’s father.” George began to laugh.
“What is funny about that?” Thomas asked.
George told him about the dinner where it was announced that Thomas was to be married—dashing Lord Comerford’s hopes of her marrying a duke. “He was most upset, poor old gentleman. But if I were to have my own income, it could make all the difference for Helena and me.”
“Shall we talk to your father then?” Thomas asked.
“Not yet. Let us organize a budget first. Let me talk to a few folks I know, and then let us prepare a more detailed plan. My father likes to look at the full scope of a project on paper, laid out before him. Then we can approach him. And it would not hurt if you talked to some of your sources as well. What do you say?”
“I think it sounds like an excellent plan,” Thomas said offering his hand.
The two men shook.
Thomas said, “Very well, I will work on the budget, but I should like your input on it. Perhaps you could stop by in the next day or two to see what might be missing. I expect to be at home the next few days, so feel free to stop by at any time.”
“Certainly. Until then.”
Thomas started to leave but had a thought and turned back to George. “What you said about Lord Comerford, do you think it might help you and Helena if I stopped by to see his Lordship and confirmed my non-existent engagement?”
“That would be splendid, old man. Most grateful. And what would you think about approaching him about an investment in our stable?”
Thomas frowned. “After I deliver the news of my engagement, I think it would be less likely he would be interested. However, once we are up and running, I feel certain he will look more favorably toward you if we are successful. Nothing quite entrances like success.”
“Then we need to be successful.”
“Yes, we do.”
As Thomas left the Edgerton property and turned onto the main road, he stopped his horse and sat for a moment as he tried to decide where he wanted to go next. He had thought to go home, but he had a nagging feeling he wanted to do something else. What was it? And then he realized… he wanted to see Miss Jenny again. He had not been able to get her fresh beauty out of his mind ever since they had met in the rain and he had taken her to Pemberton for tea. And without further thought, he spurred his horse and headed toward Chatsworth.
The first thing Thomas noted, as he reined in his horse, were the wonderful smells of freshly baked bread and pastries coming from the bakery. It reminded him of his childhood when his mother was still alive, and they would go down to the kitchen early in the morning and wonderful aromas like these filled the room as still hot breads cooled on racks on the large table in the center of the kitchen.
Two women were entering the shop in front of him and, as he entered, he removed his hat and stood behind the ladies being served by a young lad, who barely stood above the display cases. When he was done with the ladies, the young man turned to Thomas, smiled and said, “You have a nice horse, Mister.”
“Thank you...?”
“Robert, sir.”
“Robert, do you like horses?”
“Oh, I do sir. It is my dream to one day ride like the wind. But we do not even have a pony. So…” But the lad got back to business when two more customers entered the shop. “How can I help you, Sir?” the boy then asked.
“I am looking for Miss Jenny. Is she available to chat for a moment?”
“Let me go see,” Robert said and disappeared into the back of the shop.
Presently Jenny came out, wiping her hands on her apron. She seemed to be surprised to see him. “Oh, Your Grace. How may I be of service?”
“I came to see you, although I also have my eyes on some of those delicious-looking little cakes in the case.”
Jenny smiled. “Then I can help you with both. What did you wish to see me about? You do not want the dress back, do you?” she asked a little nervously.
Thomas laughed. “Not at all. I was in the village and I recalled our delightful conversation at tea and felt the urge to say hello.”
Jenny blushed slightly, “That is very kind, Your Grace.”
“Will you step out with me for a moment? Perhaps take a turn around the square?”
Jenny turned to look back into the baking work area. “Perhaps for a few moments, but I have a number of pies in the oven and cannot let them overcook.”
“I understand,” Thomas said, almost feeling embarrassed to be seen walking with a young baker woman. If any of his London friends saw him, they would scoff and ridicule him. But he was quite certain he would not find any of those friends in Chatsworth.
As they started walking the square, Thomas found that he was uncommonly nervous, and did not know how to start the conversation. Fortunately, Jenny did not hesitate.
“Helena tells me you are to be engaged,” Jenny said.
Thomas laughed. “Oh, she did, did she?”
“To a young London lady?”
“No, no… You must have misunderstood. Helena is letting her father think I am engaged in order to divert her father from forcing her to marry me.”
“But have you asked her to marry you?”
“Not at all,” Thomas replied.
“Then, I do not understand. If you did not ask her, why would he think you would marry Helena?”
The conversation had become unnecessarily complicated. Thomas stopped and explained exactly what was going on.
“Oh, I see now. How droll. Then neither you nor Helena are to marry anyone at the present moment.”
“Helena wants to marry George, and he her.”
“Yes, that was my understanding, as well. I am so glad that is all straightened out,” she said with a laugh.
But with the confusion clarified, Thomas was back to not knowing what he wanted to say to her? What did he want to say, he asked himself? And he found he was nervous, and his hands were sweating. He was behaving like a schoolboy, and he did not know why.
Oh, yes, he did. It was because he was so very much attracted to this charming young lady with flour in her hair, jelly on her apron, and the most wonderful smile in her eyes.
But what was he thinking? She was totally wrong for him. He needed a duchess and here he was walking with a lowly baker. Impossible. It would never work. But at the same time, he could not take his eyes off of her.
Finally, she said, “I think I must be getting back to the shop, Your Grace. I not only need to take my pies out of the ovens, but I need to get my cakes put in or I shall have a slew of angry customers wanting their evening sweets.”
Thomas escorted her back to the shop. She went behind the counter, looked up at him and asked, “Now then, exactly how many of the little teacakes did you want to take with you? And do you like the vanilla, the chocolate, or the strawberry?”
Chapter 13
“There is a… person… to see you, sir.” Wilcox’s manservant announced.
Wilcox looked up from the newspaper he was reading in his study.
“What sort of person?” he asked, shaking out the newspaper and folding it in half.
“I would hardly call him a gentleman, milord,” Munson, the manservant, said with
the unmistakable tone of a snob. “I would suggest he might be a tradesman or… worse. What would you like me to do with him?”
Wilcox could not help but be slightly amused. “Did this person give you his name?”
“It was something like Brooker or Barker or some other indistinguishable moniker beginning with a ‘B’. He may have been speaking the King’s English, but I was hard put to recognize it as such.”
A Pure Lady for the Broken Duke_A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 9