The Choice of a Cavalier
Linda Rae Sande
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
The Choice of a Cavalier
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2020 Linda Rae Sande
V1
ISBN: 978-1-946271-32-7
Cover photograph © PeriodImages.com and 123rf.com
All rights reserved - used with permission
Edited by Katrina Teele-Fair
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Contents
Prologue
1. Paying a Call on a Banker
2. Of Bums and Horses
3. A Foiled Attempt at Pressing a Point
4. Learning About a Lady Over Luncheon
5. Ruminating
6. Brandy with Cousins at White’s
7. A Demonstration of Skill
8. A Punch in the Gut
9. A Verbal Lashing at White’s
10. Seeking an Equine Education
11. A Daughter Recalls Her Assault
12. Eating Crow
13. Friends Unite
14. Reflections on Age and Women
15. An Invigorating Ride
16. An Earl on the Hunt
17. Help is Sought from an Unlikely Source
18. An Earl Pleads for Help
19. Contracts and Questions
20. An Unexpected Caller
21. Dinner for Two
22. A Grecian Goddess Casts a Spell
23. A Plea for Help
24. A Ride in Hyde Park
25. A Two-Foot Tumble
26. An Heiress Regrets
27. Arrangements are Made
28. Commiserating at White’s
29. Commiserating at Fairmont Park
30. Jewelry and a Pearl
31. Shoes May Be a Gentleman’s Best Friend
32. A Ride on Horseback
33. Boots, a Bath, Bubbles and a Bauble
34. An Earl Makes an Announcement
35. Dressing for Dinner and a Dance
36. Winter Wedding Vows Before the Ceremony
37. Dinner and a Dance
38. Paying a Debt
Epilogue
Excerpt
Author Notes
Also by Linda Rae Sande
About the Author
Prologue
A Brother’s Concern for his Sister
Friday, January 4, 1839, Grandby and Son, 300 Oxford Street, London
“I say, Grandby, you’ve managed to make this space into quite a museum,” Lord Michael said as he studied several artifacts displayed around a luxurious office. The rich woods, green carpet, and gas-lit chandeliers would have been expected in a gentleman’s study in a Park Lane townhouse. They were not as expected in an office in Oxford Street.
“This is actually my father’s office,” Tom Grandby said as he turned to lead them into his own. “He’s done far more traveling than I have, and his brother-by-marriage owns Wellingham Imports, so it’s been easy for him to acquire his collection.”
“Yours is not so bad, either,” Lord Michael said as he hurried to a wall of shelves laden with interesting artifacts and a stunning Wedgwood vase. Unlike Gregory Grandby’s office across the hall, most of these items were more ancient—a Roman glass bottle, a Greek vase, a globe made of agate, and several marble slabs carved with reliefs—and they were displayed appropriately. “But it looks as if there’s something missing,” he commented, noting the top of a caryatid was bare.
“That pelike from Greece was due to go on there,” Tom replied as he indicated the central artifact on his display shelves. “But an archivist from the British Museum warned me it might be accidentally knocked off its pedestal should I mount it on the caryatid. When I learned the vase was from 350 BCE, I of course took his recommendation.”
“350 BCE, you say?” Michael repeated in awe. “From where did you acquire it?”
“Lord Henley found it for me in Athens,” Tom replied, referring to an archaeologist who was currently working on a dig in Greece. Tom indicated they should sit. “Tell me, my lord. What brings you to London?”
The second son of the Duke of Somerset took the proffered chair and settled into it just as Tom’s secretary entered with a tea tray. He went about pouring cups of tea and placing plates of cakes before each gentleman, and then he exited as quietly as he had arrived. He left behind the tea tray which featured an array of biscuits and more small cakes. “I was about to say business, but I must admit, I miss this kind of hospitality,” Lord Michael said as he lifted his cup. He held it as if in salute, and Tom did the same with his. “I’m in a quandary, and I’m hoping you can help.”
Tom furrowed his brows. “What is it?”
“Nothing I say can go beyond this room,” Lord Michael warned.
“I’ve never divulged any of my investors’ business,” Tom reminded him. “Nor will I start.”
“My father does not fare well,” Lord Michael said quietly. “And my older brother is taking advantage.”
Tom straightened, his tea forgotten. “How so?”
“He’s looking to get his hands on our inheritances.”
“But—”
“He can’t, not really,” Lord Michael was quick to say. “But he’ll go to great lengths if he runs short of his own blunt, and I expect he’ll run out before he inherits the dukedom. With Father’s mind not always where it should be—he’s become very forgetful, somewhat confused—I fear Jeremiah will only grow bolder in his attempts at taking over the dukedom before he’s entitled to do so.”
Tom dipped his head. “I’m sorry to hear it. What can I do?”
Lord Michael sighed. “My oldest sister is safe, since she’s already wed and her dowry has come under her husband’s control,” he explained. “Not so with my youngest sister, however. She has her funds deposited with the Bank of England. I’ve just come from there. I spoke with her banker and told him to be sure to mention you when next she meets with him,” he added.
“Oh?” Tom furrowed a brow, wondering what the spare heir of the Somerset dukedom had in mind for the sister.
“I’ve also told Vicky to contact you about an appointment, but... I don’t know if she will. She’s living in an unentailed property just north of town. I’m fairly sure her inheritance won’t allow her to buy it from the dukedom, but I don’t want Jerry getting his hands on it, or selling it out from under her, either.” Michael paused and then indicated the leather satchel he had brought with him. “I actually have the deed to the property with me. I took it from my father’s study. Just to keep it from Jerry.”
“Probably a good idea, as long as someone else knows you have it,” Tom hedged.
“Well now you know. I told Mother. She agreed I should keep it safe, of course.”
Tom leaned forward, a frown firmly in place. “Have you told her brother?” he ask
ed, referring to Michael Cunningham. Since the man had made his fortune for the Cunningham viscountcy with investments in coal and gas extraction, Tom wondered why the nephew didn’t invest with the uncle. Why he didn’t trust Michael Cunningham to know what was happening in his sister’s family.
Lord Michael inhaled slowly and shook his head. “I don’t want to get other family members involved in this,” he said in a quiet voice. “I had hoped as he grew older, Jerry might take his responsibilities to heart. Spend less at the gaming tables Spend less on... everything, I suppose. But his choice of friends has not helped in the matter. One in particular is the reason Vicky is living at Fairmont Park... well, never mind about that. She needs a sound investment for her inheritance—”
“Has she already reached her majority?” Tom asked, finding he was growing more curious than he should.
“Indeed. And she won’t marry, although after what happened last year, I can’t say I blame her.”
Tom was about to ask what had happened, but thought better of it. Meeting a potential client for the first time was always more about discovering what they wanted him to know about them. What they wanted him to do for them. All the rest didn’t matter. All the rest wasn’t really any of his business. “Are you looking for an agent to sell the property?”
“No!” Lord Michael said. “Vicky has already spent blunt on improvements. Intends to live there for the rest of her life, if she’s not pushed out by our brother.”
“So... you just want her fortune secured in a long-term investment?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what she wants?”
Lord Michael’s eyes darted sideways. “I hope so.”
Against his better judgement, Tom allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. “Tell me, does your sister know this about Lord Jeremiah?”
Lord Michael grimaced. “I told her yesterday.”
“And?”
“Well, I’m still alive, but it was touch and go there for a time.” The words weren’t said with any amusement.
“Angry, was she?”
“And I was just the messenger,” Lord Michael said, an eyebrow arched in annoyance. “If Jerry had been there, I think she would have done him bodily harm. Probably run over him with a horse, whipped him with a crop, and then stomped on him for good measure.” He glanced around the office while Tom visibly winced. “Tell me, Grandby. Do you own a house or... a mansion somewhere?”
Tom blinked at the sudden change of topic. “I just took a room at Arthur’s a couple of months ago,” he replied, referring to the men’s club in St. James Street. “My family’s estate is Woodscastle, down in Chiswick.”
“Woodscastle,” Lord Michael repeated quietly. “Isn’t that next door to Merriweather Manor?”
Resisting the urge to laugh, Tom said, “I wouldn’t call it next door, exactly. It’s just down the road, though. As well as on the other side of it. My father grew up at Merriweather Manor, so everyone who lives there now is a cousin or a relative of some sort.”
“Oh? So you aren’t betrothed to any of the young women who live there?”
“Although I rather like my cousins, I’m not of a mind to marry any of them,” Tom replied with a grin.
Lord Michael’s widened eyes suggested he was unaware of the current occupants of the estate. “Will you inherit it?”
“Merriweather Manor? No. I rather imagine my banker will end up with it,” he replied, remembering it was James Burroughs’ father, Lord Andrew, who had seen to renovating the pile two decades before.
“Will you inherit Woodscastle?”
“Mayhap a part of it. I don’t intend to reside there, though,” Tom replied, wondering at Lord Michael’s interest in the estates. “Too far from town.”
Lord Michael’s expression brightened. “Is there any chance you’re in the market for a house with a park and grounds? New stables? A track, perhaps?”
Tom paused and regarded the duke’s son with a wary eye. “Wait. Are you thinking to sell me Fairmont Park?”
Lord Michael finished off his tea and sat back, his chest puffed out. “If Jerry bankrupts the dukedom, my father will need money to pay servants and staff. To pay bills. I will not see my mother left a pauper,” he said in a quiet voice. “If I sell Fairmont Park, I can put that money into an escrow account. Protect it from Jerry.”
“You would sell your sister’s house out from under her?” Although he didn’t intend to sound angry, Tom certainly felt it on the woman’s behalf.
“With the condition it be let back to her until such time as she either marries or decides to live somewhere else,” Lord Michael explained. “Besides, it’s not really her house,” he added. “She just... lives there.”
“But she sees to the upkeep? Manages the servants? Pays the bills?” Tom guessed, ready to chide the man for taking advantage of his sister.
“Yes, yes, and... and she trains horses there.”
The fact that the property had new stables and a track now held meaning. “Trains horses for... what, exactly?”
Lord Michael once again grimaced. “Racing, of course. She’s damned good at it, which vexes Mother to no end but has Jerry all excited about the prospect of his nag winning at some of this year’s races,” he explained. “Something more for him to lose money on,” he complained.
“Does she train your horse, too?” Tom asked lightly.
“Yes, but I don’t bet everything I own on whether it wins or not,” Lord Michael replied defensively.
“Hmm. Well, am I to expect her to come here to the office to meet with me?”
Lord Michael shook his head. “Doubtful. Could you go there? I mentioned I would ask you on her behalf.”
“Was this before or after she threw a vase at you?”
Blinking, Lord Michael allowed a self-deprecating grin. “She values the vases far too much to throw them at anyone,” he replied. “She’s more likely to lash out verbally when she’s vexed. Which is how I left her company yesterday.”
“She was not happy with the thought of the house being sold?” Tom guessed.
Lord Michael rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even get that far with her. I only told her what our brother was doing.”
Tom had a mind to laugh, but he certainly felt no humor and managed to hold it in. “Where exactly is Fairmont Park?” he asked. “I can pay a call there tomorrow. Speak with her ladyship, if she’ll see me.”
Lord Michael pulled a paper from his satchel. A rather well-drawn map of the northern London environs filled the sheet. He passed it over to Tom. “Just there,” he said as he pointed to where a vast estate had been circled.
“It’s huge for so close to town,” Tom remarked. “How is it a duke owns such a property and not the dukedom?”
“Father bought it with his inheritance expecting he and my mother would live there. Back when his older brother was still the Somerset heir apparent. And still alive,” he added with an arched brow.
Tom stared at his client, just then remembering that Jeremy Statton, Duke of Somerset, was the second-born son. He had only inherited because his father and older brother had died in a boating accident. “Interesting,” Tom murmured.
“Will you take a look, at least?” Lord Michael implored.
Allowing a shrug—it couldn’t hurt to look—Tom said, “I will. But I am not going to be the one to tell your sister why I’m looking,” he warned.
“Noted,” Lord Michael replied. “Oh, and she despises being called ‘Vicky’ by people she doesn’t know.”
Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with a potential client, Tom asked, “What is her name, exactly?”
“Victoria. Lady Victoria,” Lord Michael replied. “And she was named long before our queen was born,” he added as he gathered his satchel. He suddenly sighed. “Oh, dear. I haven’t exactly painted Vicky in a very pleasing palette,” he murmured. “She really is a rather pleasant young woman when you get to know her. But maybe not quite the kind of girl your mother ho
pes you’ll marry when you’re finally of a mind to do so.”
Tom blinked, deciding it best he not mention his mother’s preference for the kind of girls she wanted for her sons. They certainly couldn’t be classified as young, innocent, insipid English misses. His mother wanted her sons to be challenged by their mates, mostly so she would have allies at the dinner table.
He absently wondered if Lady Victoria would fit the bill, but quickly shook off the thought.
He was not in the market for a wife.
“I do hope you can help,” Lord Michael said, just before he took his leave of the office. “And thank you again for the tea and cakes.”
Tom stared after his client, a dozen questions coming to mind. He only hoped Lady Victoria would know the answers. Especially if he was going to take her on as a client.
Chapter 1
Paying a Call on a Banker
A few hours later, Bank of England, Threadneedle Street, London
An umbrella held in one hand and her reticule clutched in another, Lady Victoria regarded the huge building before her with anticipation as snow fell from gray skies.
“Would you like me to come in with you, my lady?” her driver asked as he assisted Cummings, the lady’s maid, from the unmarked town coach.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Thompson. I’ve an appointment.” At least, she hoped she did. She had dispatched Cummings’ husband, a footman, earlier that morning with a note explaining she wished to see Mr. Burroughs. Cummings had returned to Fairmont Park with word that he had left the note with a clerk and been told someone would see to her ladyship when she arrived.
The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3) Page 1