Bath Scandal (13 page)

“Lightening, that’s the lad who’ll make my fortune,” Horatio said. “He’d never win a penny in a flat race, but his short legs are an advantage in the hurdles. Less of them to be pulled up.” He tossed his head, and a blackleg came forward to take his bet. “A hundred pounds on Lightening,” he said. “He’s running at odds of five to one.”

“Horatio! Don’t bet so much!” Bea objected. She was aware of his customary lack of funds.

When he drew out his purse, she saw it was full to overflowing. “I am high in the stirrups.” He laughed. “I have a knack for this sport. Put your blunt on Lightening, and you will go home with your purse bulging, too, Bea.”

“Well, I’ll risk one guinea,” she said, and handed her money over.

This lent a sharper interest to the race. She stood at the rail with the others, hollering her encouragement as the nags streaked by, flying over hurdles of various heights. Lightening won, and soon she was five pounds richer. She would like to have remained and made more money, but could not like to abandon her own party for much longer. From the corner of her eye, she had noticed Southam glancing in her direction more than once. Soon he began stalking toward her, wearing a scowl. She hastily shoved her money at Horatio. “Bet it on some more races for me,” she said. “I’ll pick up my winnings when we meet. I expect we’ll bump into each other again before we leave Bournemouth.”

Southam disliked to see Bea with this batch of aging urchins. It was incredible to him that a lady would sit at a table with three such specimens, drinking ale in public. She might not be as loose as he had imagined, but her common sense was sorely lacking. Her acquaintance appeared to be with the worst looking of the
lot, a swarthy-complexioned man with dark hair, just graying around the temples. As Southam had been monitoring her closely, he knew that was the gent who had introduced her to the others. He was not unhandsome, but his toilet did not suggest he was from the better class of society, either. His hair was a stranger to the scissors, and his jacket was shiny from use. Where did she meet such creatures?

“Southam, I would like you to meet—”

“Could you come at once, Cousin,” he said, barely nodding to her companions. “Miss Pittfield is asking for you. She has a touch of migraine. We hoped you had some headache powders with you.”

“Oh, dear! Poor Miss Pittfield. Yes, I shall come at once.” She turned back to Horatio. “You won’t forget to do as I asked?”

He winked and held up her money. “That I will, with pleasure, my dear.” She waved to the others and left.

“What was that all about?” Southam demanded, as he hurried her away from danger.

“I won five guineas, Southam! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“You’re leaving your money with that tout! You’ll never see it again. He’ll take to his heels.”

“He is not a tout. He is an old and dear friend, and he is very knowledgeable about racing. He just won five hundred pounds, imagine! I wish I had bet more. Why don’t you place a bet, Southam?”

“I didn’t come here to gamble,” he said brusquely.

They joined the others. Bea said to Miss Pittfield, “I don’t have any headache powders with me. What are we to do? I have some back at the hotel.”

“Oh, no, you will not want to leave,” Miss Pittfield said.

“There is a stall where you can get a cup of tea,” Bea suggested.

“I’m fine,” Miss Pittfield assured her. “I wish Lord Southam had not bothered you. I just mentioned the shouting was enough to bring on a migraine, and he immediately insisted I must have some medication. So foolish, and so unlike Southam,” she said, shaking her head.

“It is so noisy and rackety, I shouldn’t mind going back to the hotel,” Bea said, and meant it.

“We’d have to take the carriage—how would Lord Southam get back?”

“Perhaps he could squeeze in with Tannie. I’ll mention it.”

“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Truth to tell, I have had more than enough of this hurdle racing. I’ll speak to Southam.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said at once, when she outlined the situation.

“And leave Gillie unchaperoned? No, either you or I must take Miss Pittfield back. One of us must stay.”

“In that case, I shall stay. Don’t bother to send the carriage back. I’ll hitch a drive with someone. The duke appears to know everyone here.”

“We’ll meet back at the hotel for dinner, then.”

This solution pleased everyone. Southam was happy to have detached Beatrice from her ramshackle friends, and she was happy to be able to return to civilization. She had never cared overly much for the track. The ladies enjoyed a refreshing tea before the fire in Southam’s private parlor.

“Did Southam mention what we might do this evening?” Bea asked.

“There is a concert in town, an Italian singer.”

“Hmm. I am not terribly keen on Italian singers. Male or female?”

“Female.”

“That explains it.” Miss Pittfield looked a question at her. “Southam’s interest in going, I mean. I daresay the female is pretty.”

Miss Pittfield was never one to gossip, but from having lived with Mrs. Searle now for a few weeks, and being even more in her company during this trip, she was coming to think of Bea as a friend.

“Oh, Mrs. Searle, you cannot know Lord Southam, to say such a thing,” she said. “He is not at all a womanizer. Far from it. Since becoming engaged to Miss Swann, he has got over all that. I admit he used to take notice of a pretty girl, but now ... I don’t know, the life has just gone out of him.” She shook her head sadly.

“That is news to me,” Bea said, and immediately regretted it.

“You don’t mean he—”

“No, no! Of course not.”

“Then why do you say it is news to you?” Her eyes gleamed with knowledge.

Bea lifted her cup to hide the telltale trace of pink that rose up her neck. “Nothing. I am just cross with him, that’s all.”

“I knew something had happened last night!” Miss Pittfield exclaimed, undeceived. “I knew it by the way the pair of you were being so polite and stiff this morning. I can hardly believe it! Miss Swann would have a fit if she ever found out.”

“You may be very sure she shan’t hear of it from me.”

“I almost wish she would, for if there is one thing that might make her turn Southam off, it is womanizing. Other than that, I fear we are stuck with her.”

Bea listened sharply, “You don’t think it is a good match, then?”

“The worst match since the government forced Prinney to marry that ugly German princess. Miss Swann is so sly! She came nosing around when Southam was all at sixes and sevens after his mama’s death, you must know. He was an easy piece of work for her. She soon convinced him the girls needed a mother. Then, no sooner did she get his ring than she started her campaign to get rid of Gillie. Gillie won’t truckle under to her, you see. Gillie is old enough to see through her tricks. She brings gewgaws for Alice and Effie, so they make a great fuss of her when she comes. She would like to see the back of me as well, but I shall stay till Gillie’s fate is settled. She’ll not drive me off till she wears the title of Lady Southam. Oh, it was a black day when she landed in on us.”

“But surely he must love her?”

“He thinks she is suitable.” Miss Pittfield leaned closer and lifted her hand. “I’ll tell you this, Mrs. Searle, in their six-month engagement, I have never once caught them so much as holding hands. They always leave the door open when they are alone together, so obviously there is nothing of a romantic nature going on. It is a marriage of convenience. Southam is too young, yes, and too hot-blooded, too, to be happy with that cold cucumber. She caught him at a weak moment. I wish he could jettison her, but she’ll cling like a barnacle.”

Bea thought a moment, then ventured, “You mentioned she might be dissuaded if she heard of Southam fooling around with another woman.”

“She
won’t
hear of it. He’d never do it at home, where she could hear. And anyway, she keeps all the pretty girls away.”

Bea gave a
tsk
of disgust for his lack of enterprise. “I feel no pity for a gentleman who will let himself be trampled on in this fashion.”

“Gentleman! There is the mischief. He is too much of a gentleman to go back on his word, but if we could get Deborah to break it off...” She darted a hopeful glance at her companion.

“I hope you are not expecting
me
to make a sacrifice of myself. I blacken my character, then he marries his Deborah after all. Thank you, no. Let Southam solve his own problems—if he has the grit and wits to do it. Now, let us speak of more interesting things. Will you be seeing Mr. FitzGeorge again?”

“I’m too old a hag to make a cake of myself. I shan’t—unless he comes to call,” she added, and laughed. “My, don’t we sound like a couple of debs, Mrs. Searle—at our ages! Not that you are so ancient as I.”

“We ought both to know better.”

Miss Pittfield decided to go and have a rest before dinner. Bea stayed below in the parlor, looking over the journals to see what entertainment the city offered to tourists. She looked up with interest when she heard a sharp rap on the door. “Come in,” she called.

Lord Horatio stepped in. He was not wearing the reckless smile he had been wearing when last she saw him. “I lost my five guineas,” she said ruefully.

He nodded. “You did, and I lost a deal more than that.”

“Not the whole roll, Horatio! Surely you did not blow that whole wad you had won.”

“Worse. I punted a thousand on tick. The blacklegs are after me. I want a word with Tannie, to see if he can bail me out. I cannot remain on where I am staying. The blackleg got that address out of me early on. These lads play rough. I’ll have to hide till I get the money from Tannie. Do you know where I could find him tonight?”

“I expect to see him here this evening.”

“This is too public for my taste.” He peered about nervously.

“I’ll give him a message, then. Where can he be in touch with you?”

“I am on the run. I’ll get word to you or Tannie where I run to ground. I shall be hiding under an alias, like a common criminal. I shall be Mr. Jones for the nonce. Pray do not utter my name aloud to anyone. One never knows who may be listening.”

“What happened? You were doing so well!”

“The last race was fixed, I fear. If I cannot raise the wind, I’ll slip out of town. The bother of it is that the same lot will be at Newmarket in May. I cannot like to make myself persona non grata there. What is the point of living if a man cannot go to Newmarket for the races?”

“Tannie will bail you out.
He is rich as Croesus.”

“I’ll pay him back, of course. I have a few ugly ancestors still hanging in frames in my saloon. I shan’t mind losing them. The Van Dyck should be worth something.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the doorknob being turned. Southam entered, looking daggers to see the racetrack tout in his private parlor.

Bea looked up, unperturbed. “Southam, allow me to introduce Lo—”

Evendon gave her a warning look and bounced forward. “Mr. Jones. I am delighted to meet you, sir. I was just leaving. You won’t forget what I said, lass?”

“No, I shan’t forget. And good luck, Mr. Jones.”

Horatio winked and slipped out. She could see no harm in letting Southam know his true identity, but was willing to go along with Horatio’s wish.

“That was your old and dear friend?” Southam asked. His face wore the haughty expression it had worn the evening he arrived in Bath.

“Yes, it was.”

“Giving you another hot tip on the races, was he?”

“Why no. As a matter of fact, I lost my five guineas. That will be a lesson to me. Where is Gillie?”

“She will be along shortly. I hitched a ride with another chap.”

“The tea is cold. Would you like to order some fresh?”

“That would hit the spot.” He pulled the bell cord.

Taking tea seemed a good way to insure Bea’s company for half an hour. Southam was still feeling awkward about the contretemps of the evening before and wanted to talk it away.

“What would you like to do this evening?” he asked, pulling out a chair and sitting beside her. “There is a concert at the King’s Arms.”

“Gillie would not care for an Italian soprano. There is a musical comedy at the George.”

“Some of those provincial musical comedies are pretty risqué.”

“This one is not. Friends of mine saw
The Mop Girl
at Bath last year. It is harmless. A lady runs away to the Mop Fair to escape an unwanted marriage and ends up marrying a lord. There are some lively tunes, some jokes, and a deal of nonsense.”

“I’ll arrange tickets, then, as soon as I have had tea.”

The tea arrived soon after, and as soon as she had poured Southam a cup, Bea rose to leave.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked, surprised.

“I have already had three cups of tea with Miss Pittfield. Gillie should be along soon. She’ll join you. I shall have a rest before dinner. And by the way, as you were so concerned about Miss Pittfield’s headache,” she added in a snide tone, “you will be happy to hear she has recovered completely. It was not so severe as you imagined.”

“Why did you rush her away from the races, then?” he charged.

“Because I had had more than enough of rackety crowds and mud and the stench of horses.”

“The rackety crowd at least seemed to amuse you.”

“If you are referring to Mr. Jones, then you are right. He is always amusing, but I do not have to go to the races to meet him. He is a friend and frequent caller from Bath.”

“I don’t recall seeing him at your place.”

“You were only in town a few days. He was here. How should you expect to see him in Bath?”

Gillie and the duke arrived in the middle of this spat. Both were in high good humor at the afternoon’s outing. Bea contrived to get Tannie to walk her to the door and had a private word with him.

“Your uncle Horatio is in the suds, Tannie,” she said. “Can you let him have a thousand pounds?”

“Lord, I don’t have that kind of money on me.”

“Can’t you write a check?”

“I don’t have the cash in the bank at the moment. My businessman will be advancing me funds for Newmarket, but not till next week. Where is Horatio?”