I slept briefly, rose and appeared at All Hallows to be married. I thought you a vision of loveliness and congratulated myself on my good fortune. I do not wish to be vulgar, but I anticipated our night together with some eagerness. I say this only so you may understand my state of mind. At the time of our post-wedding dinner, I had been awake and physically engaged in some fashion or other for the better part of sixty hours with precious little sleep.
When you left for your bedchamber, I collected a glass of Madeira and settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace with the intention of giving you an hour and one-half to make ready. At which point, Eleanor, I fell soundly asleep, not waking even when the glass of Madeira slipped from my hand and saturated my clothing.
Let me restate this so that there can be no misunderstanding. My failure to appear in your bedchamber on the night of our wedding was not a result of a lack of desire, nor was I drunk. It was a result of sheer fatigue. Had I to do it again, I assure you, I would arrange events far differently.
Which leads me to a certain four-legged beauty that I assume is now standing in your stables accompanied by her devoted groom.
It is custom for a new husband to bestow a bride gift on his wife. Due to our peculiar circumstances, there was little that I felt I could offer you that would have any meaning, for whatever I gave you would have been bought with your own coin; until by the greatest of happenstance I discovered that the purchase of the old Woodward farm also included a promising young filly out of your unproven stallion, Dare To Dream. I arrived at Fairwood Stud to take permanent possession shortly after she won the 1,000 Guineas Stakes at Newmarket. You can imagine my great joy as it has ever been my ambition to be successful on the track. It was an auspicious start to my new life. This was a horse that could make prominent the name of Fairwood Stud.
After much consideration, and contrary to the strong adjurations of my farm manager, I would like to give this lovely filly to you as your bride gift—accompanied by her groom, whom I pray you will retain as it would break his young heart to be parted from her—with my fervent request to forgive me and think better of yourself. I hope the gift of Day Dreamer will convince you, as I was unable to do in person, that I continue to hold you in the highest regard.
I remain
Your Most Obedient Servant,
M. Everleigh
The letter shook in hands she couldn’t hold steady, and the muscles in her face—most particularly those of her chin—quivered uncontrollably. Never in her life had she striven so fiercely for composure as she did at that moment. In addition to Miles’ letter, she unfolded a formal transfer of ownership, filed with The General Stud. Clutching Miles’ correspondence in one hand, she shoved the accompanying registration papers toward her stud manager and then stuffed her betraying hands and his letter into her pockets.
Bitters hadn’t ceased his scrutiny of her since she’d opened the letter and she forced out raspy words of explanation. “Lord Miles has given me the filly as a bride gift. Please see that she and Mr. Struthers are housed and find the lad some Rutledge livery.”
She whirled around and strode out of the stables, pulling deep breaths that turned into helpless sobs before she reached the doors to the great house. Damn that man. He’d reduced her to tears over him again. Pausing briefly on the threshold, she wiped her face on her sleeve and jerked open both doors, surprising the doorman. Wordlessly, she swept by him, up the stairs and into her room whereupon she threw herself face down on her bed and wept without restraint into a pillow to muffle her unchecked cries. This time she didn’t censor herself, and she sobbed until she had no more tears to cry. With a final shudder, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling through swollen lids.
What was worse? Thinking Lord Miles Everleigh had succumbed to drink because he found her unattractive, or knowing that she’d misread the situation thoroughly and had driven him away with words purposefully chosen to wound and belittle—words he did not deserve. She pulled out his letter and reread a portion.
“….I feel I must set the record straight—less to make you see me in a better light, though I should hope that you might—but more that you might see yourself in a better light….”
For him to be so generous and forgiving when she’d been so hasty and judgmental… She felt unwell and very forlorn. Once again, her stupid, stupid pride had tripped her up. She stifled another sob, rose from the bed and rang for her maid.
The past couldn’t be undone, and no matter how gloomy and despondent she felt, she needed to dress for tea with Mamma and present a happy front. “I could have gone on stage,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve practiced enough pretense.”
“….but more that you might see yourself in a better light….” She hung her head. Her husband’s insight into her character was uncomfortably astute.
Chapter Ten
“M
iles! How’s life as a new husband? And where is Eleanor? You didn’t bring her with you to London?” Baron Stanton’s wife, Mary, almost skipped into the small parlor where Miles sat conferring with his closest friend over what to do with Ned who lay upstairs in one of Reggie’s guest rooms beaten almost unto death. He rose to his feet and clasped her outstretched hands.
“Mary, you are a vision of loveliness this evening. I suppose married life suits me as well as the next man.” He grinned and winked when she made a face. “Now, Mary… it wouldn’t do to seem too enthusiastic.”
“You men.” She reclaimed her hands and shook her head at his wry response, then sobered. “You’ve spoken with your brother?”
“During the brief moment he was lucid. I apologize for the imposition. As soon as he’s fit to travel, I’m removing him to Fairwood.”
“It was no imposition, Miles… just a shock to the system to find an unconscious body on one’s front step.”
“For which I cannot sufficiently apologize.” He gazed at Reggie and Mary. “Ned should get on his knees and beg your forgiveness. I thank you for taking such good care of my errant brother, and please refer the physician’s fees to me.”
Reggie waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Mary, do you suppose we might have a moment of privacy?” Reggie kissed his wife’s cheek and held her gaze in some sort of silent communication that husbands seemed to have with their wives.
“Of course. Come find me when you are done discussing things ‘not fit for tender ears’,” she complained with a smile and left, closing the door behind her. Reggie immediately dug in his coat and pulled out a ragged piece of paper which he handed to Miles.
“I took this off Ned’s unconscious body.”
Miles read the clumsily scrawled message written in grease pencil on what looked like a corner of newsprint.
£15,000 in a fortnight or we finish the job
“Has Ned seen this?”
Reggie shook his head. “He hasn’t been fully aware of his surroundings until today. I thought you should know in case…” He sighed. “In case trouble follows you to Newmarket.”
Miles closed his eyes, anger and distress vying with each other for a place of prominence.
“The physician said he has a broken nose, two cracked ribs and to watch his piss for blood. As far as he could determine, all Ned’s other injuries, while painful, are not as serious as those. They beat him to a fare-thee-well, but someone took care not to cause him permanent disability. I have little doubt that if their terms are not met, these ruffians will attempt to see the job properly done. I don’t suppose there is any hope of applying to Edgar for the funds?”
Miles caught and held Reggie in a direct gaze ripe with cynicism.
The man simply shrugged. “It was worth a mention.”
“We both know these types. If I thought for one moment that this was a legitimate debt gained through honest play, I’d insist Ned work out some sort of repayment, but I’m certain it is not. Paying these bullies and cheats will just make them worse. The only thing these sorts understand is force. Well, if required, I’
m not above using a little intimidation myself. As soon as they realize that I will not be blackmailed or cowed by their threats, the better off we’ll all be. And if they think to extract money from Edgar…well, I wish them joy.” Miles caught Reggie’s gaze with his. “Did the physician say when he thought Ned could travel?”
“If you take it in easy stages, he can travel now, but you know you are—”
Miles put his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “…welcome for however long. You are too good, Stanton. I’ll stay tonight, but tomorrow I’m removing my brother to Fairwood. Permanently. I’ve moved the Dowager Duchess Julia in, and she will be glad of the opportunity to smother Ned in maternal care.”
“You’ve installed your mother at Fairwood?”
“Yes. I’ve given her full run of the place. The Duke treated her with cold indifference, and she lacked all but the bare necessities of life at Chelsony Hall. While she never complained, it was obvious to all who cared to see that she led a bleak existence. Removing her from under the oppressive hand of my half-brother was the first thing I did when I occupied Fairwood.”
The expression on his friend’s face made words unnecessary. “I cannot number any other persons of my acquaintance who possess such a sweet temperament as your mother…how…” Reggie sighed. “He’s a thoroughgoing rotter, Miles, even if he is your brother.”
“Half-brother and I agree.”
Reggie’s traveling coach was the height of modern luxury, but even its superb suspension with the latest in new design for springs couldn’t smooth all the jolts from the road, and while Ned maintained a stoic expression, his occasional hitch of breath at any significant lurch said all that need be said about his physical condition. Miles sympathized, but he wasn’t about to tell Ned that.
“Tell me how you came to this point, Lord Edmund.”
His brother hunched a little more at his formal address, but drew in a careful breath through distorted lips and peered at Miles through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. He spoke more slowly than normal, and carefully shaped his words as if it hurt to speak—which it probably did. “It’s not what you think. I never went back to those gaming dens.” His brow wrinkled. “I didn’t, Miles. I know I haven’t been a paragon of virtue, but I gave you my word, and I kept it. Miles? Please tell me you believe me.”
“I believe you. So, finish your story.”
“The day after I spoke with you, I secured your draft and searched for the lender, but I couldn’t find the man who’d made me the original loan. I left messages for him everywhere that I had his money. Days went by without a word from him, and then a fortnight and still nothing, and I suppose I just thought …” His brother let out a groan. “I’ve been such an incredible gull. Finally, I received a message to pay up with a time and place. Five nights ago, I appeared at the agreed-upon place,” his mouth curled in disgust, “some stew near the docks, and met with three ‘associates’ of Mr. Smith.”
Miles snorted. “Smith?”
Ned closed his eye. “Yes…I know. Not his real name, certainly. I just wanted to pay what I owed and leave, but they wouldn’t let me. Said it wasn’t £5,000 anymore but £15,000 due to daily interest! Interest, Miles! I explained that I’d tried to pay them back weeks ago, but … well, stupid as I am, I finally realized they were playing me for a pigeon.” He rested his head gingerly against the squabs of the coach’s interior. “I became angry and said I knew their game and they’d not get more than what I owed. One of ‘Mr. Smith’s’ associates said he thought I was worth more than £5,000 to my brother, and someone bashed me in the back of the head. The three of them set on me with cudgels and fists. I attempted to defend myself but after being blindsided and with the numbers against me… well, the results are plain. I don’t remember much about what happened after that, other than I woke up in bed at Baron Stanton’s, less the draft for £5,000.”
Miles fished in his inner pocket and withdrew the ragged piece of newsprint and laid it on Ned’s thigh. “This was pinned to your coat when Reggie found you.”
Ned regarded the message as if Miles had placed a poisonous spider in his lap. “Damn it to perdition, Miles. I’m so sorry. I’ve been a complete embarrassment to you, and you’ve already done more than you should have. As soon as I’m able to travel on my own, I’ll go into hiding somewhere until this blows over.”
“No, you will not. You do not retreat from bullies. We will confront them with the only language this sort understands—force. I refuse to succumb to their extortion. You are going to make a life with Mother and me at Fairwood, and I swear to Almighty God, I will protect you.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t, but you are stuck with me nevertheless, and trust me, Ned, I will extract a full day’s work from you as soon as you are able.” He held his younger brother in a stern gaze, but Ned appeared so woebegone that he couldn’t sustain his anger. “Are you in a lot of pain?” he said softly. “The doctor gave me some laudanum if it gets too bad.”
The corners of Ned’s misshapen mouth twitched. “A vile concoction. I’d rather endure the discomfort.” With a few grimaces, Ned arranged himself lengthwise on the seat, his arms wrapped around his ribs, and stared at the ceiling of the carriage. “First Mother and then me … who will you rescue next?” he murmured.
Chapter Eleven
D
reamer stretched into full, effortless flight beneath Eleanor. It was as if Dreamer’s equine body escaped earth and took her rider to a transcendent place where there remained only speed. All else became a blur as wind assaulted her face and tears obscured Eleanor’s vision. It didn’t matter. The emerald green surface over which her mount flew stretched uninterrupted for miles. In her left hand, Eleanor fisted a heavy hank of blonde mane with only enough rein to keep the excess out of Dreamer’s way while her other hand pumped the air as she stood in her stirrups and whooped and laughed and cried with uncontainable jubilation—for how could one participate in such perfection and not give voice to it?
Her exaltation couldn’t continue indefinitely for a living creature of flesh and bone, heart and sinew, and fragile, fragile legs carried her—the tremendous forces of combined speed and weight borne by one slender pastern no bigger than a man’s wrist. Gently, Eleanor sat, took the reins up in both hands and restored a measure of control, shortening Dreamer’s stride from twenty-two-feet to twenty and then to eighteen and then to fifteen, and finally down to a nine-foot trot.
She whispered heartfelt thanks to Lord Miles Everleigh for his stunning generosity. She hadn’t known him for an extensive period, but what she knew of him gave her to realize he well understood the value of her bride gift. She supposed it did her no credit, but she’d never entertained for one instant the thought of returning the three-year-old.
As she turned for home and rose and fell with the filly’s springy gait, she leaned down and hugged her chestnut neck. “You glorious, glorious girl! We’re going to do fabulous things, you and I.”
Eleanor pulled Dreamer down to a walk quite a distance from where Fedder, Bitters, and Jemmy sat their mounts and watched. As she approached at Dreamer’s free-swinging walk, the expressions on Bitters’ and Jemmy’s faces never altered in their mimicry of her cheek-to-cheek grin. Her trainer, Fedder, was another manner.
“Fedder, I want Joshua Crane as her jockey. He’s light enough to make the weight and has excellent hands. Plus, he’ll know how to handle her speed. Assign Bedham as her exercise boy.” Eleanor leaned down and patted Dreamer’s sweaty neck. “He’s a kind, patient rider and she likes to play before settling in.”
Her trainer gave a curt nod, his gaze focused on his stopwatch. He tapped the crystal with his fingernail. “I think something’s wrong with my watch. This can’t be right.” He gave Eleanor a look of disbelief. “She’s done six furlongs in a minute, ten.”
Eleanor’s head flopped back, and she laughed to the sky. Bitters grinned like a boy, his eyes never leaving the filly.
�
�Ain’t she somethin’, my lady?” Awe filled Jemmy’s hushed voice. “Never seen nothing like her.” He sighed the heartfelt sigh of a young man hopelessly in love.
“She’s everything you say and more, Jemmy.” Eleanor slid off Dreamer and swapped horses with Jemmy. “Let’s get her cooled off. Hand-walk her for a couple of hours before you stall her. I’m sure she’d appreciate some green grass, and mud her legs before you leave for the evening.”
Back in the stable block, Eleanor couldn’t wait to share the time of Dreamer’s workout with her father and hurried to change out of her breeches and into a day gown. Her maid was just adding a necklace to her ensemble when a rap sounded on her door. “Yes?”
Walters responded through the closed door. “Lady Eleanor, a Mister Ludlow, personal agent to His Royal Highness Prince George is here and is asking to speak with Lord Miles Ever—
Eleanor strode to the door, yanked it open and regarded Walters with wide eyes.
Walters didn’t so much as blink. “…leigh. I have advised him that Lord Miles is not receiving and the man has demanded to speak with you. I told him I would inquire if you are accepting callers. He is in the blue room.” Walters offered her a white calling card.
All the joyous feelings that her morning with Day Dreamer had produced popped one after the other like so many laundry bubbles. “Thank you, Walters. Tell Mister Ludlow I’ll be down presently.” She paused for a moment. “Offer him some of Father’s port. Ensure his glass stays filled.”
“Ma’am.”
It may have been her imagination, but she thought she detected approval in Walters’ voice before he bowed and made his unhurried way down the hall.
Crossing to her dressing table, she pulled out the chair and slowly sank onto its seat while her thumb ran over the raised letters on the man’s business card. Her grim reflection stared back at her. She clenched her jaw and raised her chin. The white day dress with its printed sprigs of yellow flowers would never do. Neither would the simple braid that hung over her shoulder.
A Husband for Hire (The Heirs & Spares Series Book 1) Page 11