Fortunate Wager (12 page)

‘Alas, my esteemed father is not always as good at investments as he imagines,’ said Giles easily. ‘It is a great sadness to me, for I have many happy boyhood memories of the estate, but I am convinced it will come about yet.’

The alderman shook his head. ‘Ah, that’s the way of it, is it? It is always a mistake for men without a head for business to manage their own affairs. I am for ever saying so, am I not, Louisa?’

His daughter smiled lovingly at him. ‘You are, Papa. You say that it is better for a man to do what he can do well, than to make a bad fist of something he can never be.’

Just for a moment, Alex caught Caroline’s eye which was brimful with amusement. Again he found it a struggle to keep his expression under control. He had no doubt that by the time Miss Taylor was wed to Harry Fortune, her poor father would be under the impression he had made the match himself.

Across the room, Giles praised the alderman’s perspicacity with his usual panache. Just as the visit lengthened beyond the polite norm, the alderman arose. Alex was unsurprised when Giles affected astonishment at the passage of time and elected to take his leave also.

On the sofa, Caroline relaxed infinitesimally. Alex, exchanging a few words with Giles before he went, wondered what she had been concerned about. Then the door to the saloon opened, Harry Fortune breezed in, and Miss Taylor – who had been beautiful before – positively glowed.

All through the laughing flurry of I-beg-your-pardon and
We-were-just-leaving
and Sorry-to-have-missed-you, Alex was aware of Giles’s brittle smile. Following the party into the hall, Alex saw him win the honour of handing Miss Taylor up into the carriage. He also saw that though her lips thanked his friend, and her hand remained in his a little too long, her eyes were on Fortune. Giles turned and strode towards the town without a backward glance.

Alex winced, knowing from experience that, rather than admit Louisa’s affections were already engaged, Giles would put her lack of attention down to his own lack of fortune. Often, of course, this was the case and as he had always done, Alex could not help but feel sympathetic. Very early on in life he had noticed the different way adults treated his elder brother – the heir to the Abervale titles and lands – and him – with only his mother’s comparatively small estate to look forward to – and he had become disillusioned and disgusted with society in consequence. Even less favoured was Giles, the late-born third son of a neighbouring baronet with no prospects at all. But whereas Alex became colder and more scornful of the world as a result of his perspicacity, Giles tried that bit harder to please. It was always he who charmed extra sweetmeats out of the kitchen, always he who could get away with explaining why shirts were stained and knickerbockers torn after a day’s adventuring in the woods.

What worked on cooks and nursery maids had little effect on
schoolmasters until Giles learnt the knack of simulating interest in those opinionated gentlemen, and uncomplainingly ran the most boring of errands for them. Then school, too, became an easy ride. The fathers of the town damsels were rather more difficult to charm, but fortunately Giles established that avoidance-of-scandal money was about the one thing his parent
would
spare from his own gaming purse.

Already cynical, Alex became even more so on entering society, discovering that amongst gently born young ladies, professions of love went hand-in-hand with attention to one’s rents. For Giles, the revelation came as a particularly
hard-to-swallow
pill. The heiresses he favoured turned markedly less affectionate on hearing about his father selling ever more parcels of land and his eldest brother’s increasing progeny. He had even begun to talk of giving thought to a profession until the happy day when his godfather suffered an apoplexy in the arms of his mistress, leaving Giles a ruined castle for glamour and three snug farms for rent. It would have been even better if the income from those farms ever managed to last the quarter.

So yes, Alex understood that Giles felt life had dealt him an unfair hand, but he needn’t go on griping about it. Maybe it was disloyal in Alex, but really, compared to Harry Fortune, who was now asking civilly whether he would care for a game of billiards, Giles seemed a touch – thin.

Caroline waited until she heard the reassuring click of ivory balls behind the door, then hurried upstairs to don a riding coat. Provided Harry did his part, she would be able to take Solange right around Newmarket with no one being any the wiser. The traffic in the town was lighter by far than it would be on a race day, but still sufficiently busy to test the mare’s nerve. Flood insisted on walking alongside her. It was of no use Caroline reminding him that she had already ridden Solange to the heath and back without incident. He simply replied that what worked in the very early morning was of no account on a bustling afternoon and who was head groom in this establishment
anyway? So they walked sedately along the High Street, turning before they reached the White Hart, ‘just in case some inquisitive little ferret isn’t up to his horrible eyes in a gambling den’ as Flood put it, and then circled down around St Mary’s and came back.

There was no doubt that Solange wasn’t happy, but with Caroline talking to her and Flood’s solid presence at her head, she acquitted herself without more than a few eye-rolls and then one long whinny when a butcher’s boy came pelting out of his master’s shop after a thief.

‘Enough for one day?’ asked Caroline, when the Penfold Lodge arch came into sight.

‘I’d say so, Miss Caro. A nice rub down and a bucket of mash and she’ll be right as a trivet.’

Caroline slipped into the billiard room to watch the last game. She noticed Alexander smile as he glanced at her gown. She looked down to see a thatch of straw clinging to the hem. She bent to pick it off, hoping her flush would be attributed to her change in position rather than warmth because he found her habit of slipping up to the stables endearing. Love, when you were deceiving the unconscious object of your affections, was a tremendously complicated affair.

‘What do you do tomorrow, my lord?’ she said, following a certain plan of her own that had its roots in the Duchess of Abervale’s various confidences. ‘Are you sufficiently recovered as to attend church with us? The neighbourhood would be delighted if so. There has been much regret and mortification felt that you should be attacked so basely in our particular area. I daresay you will be inundated with enquiries as to your health.’

Alexander set his cue in the rack beside Harry’s. ‘How gratifying. But alas I believe it would be sheer foolishness to sit for that length of time in a draughty church and risk a set-back.’ He opened the door for her to precede him out of the room. ‘You must lend me your Bible that I may spend a profitable hour quietly perusing it whilst you are out.’

‘Certainly,’ she replied. ‘If you like, I shall also repeat you the
text of the sermon over dinner.’

He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that my immortal soul will survive without.’

‘It is your decision, my lord.’ Caroline made a mock-grieving sigh and was rewarded by the sight of another smile on his lips.

Again, the night passed without incident.

As Caroline had half-suspected would be the case, Giles d’Arblay was not at All Saints to give thanks for the past week any more than his friend. In the churchyard after the service, she found her sister Selina mourning the fact.

‘He is prodigious handsome,’ sighed Selina.

‘And prodigious exigent,’ said Caroline drily.

‘He told me I had eyes like stars,’ said Selina.

‘Well, I have never yet seen cornflower-blue stars, so I would not know. And furthermore he knows you are not out, so it was very wrong of him to be whispering nonsense to you. When was this?’

‘He called on Papa last week to look at one of the horses, and then stepped inside to take tea with us.’

‘Indeed. And had he poetic words for any other part of your anatomy?’

Selina looked at her sister resentfully. ‘He said my lips were like an unfolding rose and my ears were like shells, nestling in a bed of spun gold.’

Caroline let out a peal of laughter. ‘What moonshine! I wonder he does not try to publish a volume of poor poetry to pay his debts, rather than sponge on his friend.’

Selina and the other young ladies in the group looked taken aback. ‘Does he do so indeed?’ asked Selina’s bosom bow.

‘Oh yes. I overheard him asking Lord Rothwell to lend him money only yesterday. And when her grace the duchess called to ascertain the extent of her son’s injuries, she told me—’ Caroline broke off as if she had only just realized she was being indiscreet. ‘You won’t pass this on, will you?’

‘Oh, no,’ they all fervently assured her.

‘Because it was told to me in confidence.’

‘We won’t say a word.’ Half-a-dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on her imploringly.

‘Well,’ said Caroline, dropping her voice, ‘she told me that every time they make a stay in a place, Lord Rothwell not only picks up the tab for both of them, but frequently finds himself applied to by tradesmen whom his friend has given his name to as standing surety for his purchases!’

The young ladies looked suitably appalled. In a town where not a few of them lived within sight of the shop, this breach of fiscal etiquette shocked them almost as much as the duchess’s insights into Giles’s morality would have done.

Caroline gave her arm to her brother and sauntered back to Penfold Lodge justly pleased with her morning’s work. Giles d’Arblay was not going to cause havoc in
her
town if she could avoid it!

Alex had also been busy. As soon as the church party disappeared from view, he had taken his stick and walked carefully up to the paddock. He leant on the rail, watching the yearlings. As he’d expected, it wasn’t long before Flood was leaning beside him.

‘Morning, milord. Was you wishful of something?’

‘Merely enjoying a breath of fresh air without a pack of women watching my every step.’

The head groom grunted.

‘I do not believe I have thanked you, by the way. It was you who found me and went for the doctor, was it not?’

‘Aye, I went for the doctor, right enough. Bleeding like a stuck pig, you were.’

Alex winced, this being rather more information than he required. ‘You didn’t see anyone who might have done it?’

‘No, milord. I’d have strung ‘em up if I had and apologized to the magistrate later. Summat like that happening on our land – makes my blood boil.’

‘A friend of mine tells me there have been other incidents of
attempted housebreaking in Newmarket recently.’

‘I couldn’t say, milord. I’ve not heard of any such thing myself.’

There was a small silence. Alex nodded at the foals frolicking in the sunshine. ‘I have been wondering why you keep so many youngsters? Penfold Lodge cannot make a profit from them when all they do is eat and grow.’

Flood gave a rumble of laughter. ‘Ah, that’s Mr Harry’s specialty. He’s a dab hand at bringing on a young horse. Train ‘em gentle, tickle the public with the two-year-old races, mop up as a three year old and sell ’em on for a good price.’

‘That’s very sound,’ said Alex, startled.

Flood rumbled harder. ‘Aye, it would be if it weren’t for Miss Caro. Such a soft heart on her, she’s got. Can’t bear the thought of the beasts going to a hard trainer so won’t let him sell unless they’re off to Robert Robson or the like.’

‘And there I was thinking she was the brains of the outfit,’ said Alex softly.

There was a long silence.

‘Was there anything else, milord?’ said Flood.

‘I might take a look at Solange.’

Flood paced alongside him.

‘Who’s going to be riding her in the race?’

Flood looked properly shocked. ‘That’s Mr Harry’s business, not mine.’

Which was a blatant lie if ever he’d heard one. ‘Yes, of course. I do beg your pardon.’ Then, ‘Was Miss Fortune really going to marry Bertrand Penfold?’

‘Oh, aye,’ said the groom readily. ‘They’d have made a match all right. It would’ve suited her a lot better than all that jaunting to London last year. Never saw so much of a change in anyone as when she came back when her ladyship fell ill.’

Alex felt a sharp jolt. ‘She was altered? In what way?’

Flood ruminated, watching Solange cropping the grass nearest to Rufus’s paddock. ‘Smaller,’ he said eventually.

‘Smaller?’

‘Aye, like she needed the air of this place, and the horses around her to fill her back out again.’

In the distance, they heard the peal of church bells.

‘Reckon they’ll be back soon,’ said Flood. ‘Give you good morning, milord.’

Alex made his way reflectively back to the house. He was no nearer finding out who had attacked him, but for some muddled reason, that no longer felt his primary concern.

C
AROLINE WAS CREEPING
past Alexander’s room to fetch a drink when she heard him cry out towards midnight. She was in and hushing him before the footman outside had so much as stirred from his slumber.

It was vastly different now, cradling his head against her shoulder. Blood thrummed uncomfortably in her veins. Her hands shook against his nightshirt. She was completely and absolutely convinced that she shouldn’t be here. She was also completely and absolutely convinced that she wouldn’t be leaving until he was safely quiet again.

‘Why?’ he murmured. ‘Why? Why?’

‘Why what, Alexander?’

His brow wrinkled, as if placing her voice. ‘C’me here,’ he said.

Heart in mouth, watching the doorway, Caroline lay on the bed next to him. His arm came across and held her close. ‘Don’t go,’ he breathed. ‘Stay. Don’t go.’ He buried his face in her hair, but did nothing else except hold her tight.

Caroline fitted herself to the line of his body without thought. Even with him under the blankets and her on top of them, this was so much the right place to be and so much what she wanted to do. In the clear light of day she would be plain, insignificant Caroline Fortune again and he would be the son of a duke, but right now he needed her and she was here. There was a strange, heartbreaking pleasure in taking by night what could never be hers in the morning.

He fell asleep again almost straight away. Caroline listened to his regular breathing and felt his arm relax. She should go. This was madness. She must leave now, before she succumbed to the comfort of lying beside him. In a few hours she would be dressing as a lad and riding his horse across Newmarket Heath. And he must not know because ladies had no place in the masculine world of racing and there would be a scandal and he would never look at her again. Not that he looked at her anyway.

Why did you not depart with your mama?
she cried silently.
Why did you not exit my life yesterday? Every day you are here makes this harder.

He stirred, almost as if he had heard her. Her heart in pieces, she eased herself free and fled, her hair escaping from its braid and sticking to the tracks of tears on her face.

In his dream, Alex knew something was missing. He searched formless towns and asked faceless people. Heat beat at his body and rain soaked his face. Dimly, his conscious mind recognized this phase. He put out an immense effort and woke up, his cheek rough and sore from being scrubbed against his sweat-soaked pillow. He lay in the dimness with silence around him. Good. He had got himself out of the nightmare without waking anyone. He was beating the cycle at last. He should feel victorious. Why, then, was there this sense of loss? He sat up wearily and shook his pillow, turning it so that he should lie against the dry side.

Something fell across his face. Something light and soft, there and gone. A moth? A spider? Alex sat very still, letting his eyes become accustomed to the dim light spilling from the lamp in the hallway through his partly open door. He looked down. Across the pale band of sheet slithered a strip of … of ribbon. Alex picked it up, feeding the slippery satin length through his fingertips. Unquestionably, this was a woman’s. It should be laced into the neck of a gown or threaded into a fall of hair. What was it doing on his pillow? He curled it around his fingers and went back to sleep, waiting for what the morning might bring.

By daylight, the ribbon proved to be a deep cherry colour. Alex stared at it, flummoxed. Rosetta used to have narrow, feminine ribbons in pinks, blues and greens to tie her peignoirs. She had lain on her couch, teasing him with promises, until he had undone every last bow to reach the delights within. Both Rosetta and the peignoirs had been expensive; Alex had foolishly assumed he was buying exclusivity. It had been a shocking blow to his pride when he found he was not. The memory had been raw ever since.

But now, staring at the plain cherry ribbon twined in and out of his fingers, Alex felt the old pain fall away and a strange,
half-entranced
tugging take its place. Rosetta’s perfect, painted face, her flawless body and delicate, scalloped surroundings dissolved to nothing. What was accomplished mock-innocence when you had a sturdy, honest red ribbon in your bed? And unless the maids were in the habit of flitting in and out of his room at night, there was only one person it could belong to. Alex found the idea strangely invigorating.

‘Good morning,’ he said, strolling into the kitchen. The various servants bobbed, bowed or, in the case of Cook, inclined their heads magisterially at him. Fortune grinned. Caroline looked resigned.

‘Could you not sleep again, my lord?’ she said. ‘I am sure if you had rung your bell, a soothing posset could have been brought to you.’

Alex smiled. Her hair, he noticed, was braided and pinned in a workaday fashion around her head. Her gown was a particularly distressing shade of blue. ‘Do you ever wear red?’ he enquired.

‘Red?’ she echoed in disbelief. ‘Oh yes, I can see it now. An unmarried young lady, not living under her parents’ roof, wearing red as she goes about her daily business. I wonder I have never thought of it for myself.’

Alex laughed. ‘You are right, I suppose. I keep forgetting you are so young. But it would become you far better than that colour you have on now.’

‘Why, thank you, but as the polite world is not driving
four-in-hand
up the London road to sit at my feet this morning, you will forgive me if I do not immediately rush upstairs and change.’

A plate of hot rolls arrived on the table, direct from the oven. Alex promptly broke one open. ‘It would be a shame if you did, for these smell wonderful.’

The assistant cook bobbed, flustered.

Caroline consumed a roll, dripping with butter, before saying, ‘As it happens, this dress used to be Honoria’s. It is the curse of having fair-haired, blue-eyed sisters that when something that was supposed to be for them fails to suit, it flatters me even less.’

Alex thought ruefully of the pin-money his own sister frittered away. ‘You surely have an allowance? Do you never have lengths of material made up for you alone?’

Caroline buttered another roll and wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, I could, I suppose, but I would have to battle Mama for it, and honestly if it was a choice between that and taking a chance on a nine-to-one promising outsider….’

Red! Caroline flung open the door of her wardrobe and looked at the contents in despair.
Red!
She had a round gown in cream cotton with a dusky pink spot. Was that close enough? She could wear it for dinner, and perhaps thread one of her night-braid ribbons in her hair. Except the ribbon would not stay in place, of course, and then she would look both untidy
and
foolish. Could Mrs Penfold’s maid help her to anchor it? But she would wonder why.

This was nonsensical. She collected her writing desk and went downstairs in disgust. She couldn’t believe she was even
considering
dressing to please a man who wouldn’t give her a second glance once he was gone from this house.

By the greatest good fortune, a stack of letters addressed to Lord Rothwell from his steward arrived just as Caroline was running out of reasons not to spend the morning with him. Alexander looked at them glumly. ‘And I was thinking of
petitioning for my horse to be brought round from the White Hart that I might have some exercise. It had best be tomorrow, after all.’

Caroline pursed her lips. Did this man never reflect? ‘If you are of a mind to ride, you should send to your groom to get the fidgets out of the horse today,’ she told him roundly. ‘It has been over a week since you were on him. Do you really feel strong enough?’

‘Chieftain is of a placid temperament, and I thought I might prevail on your brother to accompany me in case of any difficulty.’

Her brother. Yes, of course.

‘Or,’ continued Alexander with a ruminative air, ‘if he is engaged, perhaps you might join me to make sure I do not
over-extend
myself. My groom would be with us, naturally.’ He smiled at her suddenly. ‘
Not
Jessop.’

Colour flooded Caroline’s cheeks. It was a good thing he did not employ that smile often, or half the country would be undone. ‘You should certainly have
someone
you will listen to,’ she said. ‘And, as I feel I owe it to your mama’s faith in me, I will be pleased to accompany you. But will your friend Mr d’Arblay not wish to join you if you are to ride out?’

‘Lord, no. Giles would find the short amble across the fields which I fear is all I may manage, far too slow for his taste. Also I should prefer to essay this first attempt back in the saddle in the morning when I am strongest. Giles rarely departs his valet’s hands until noon.’

This was welcome intelligence. Caroline left Alexander to his letters and scampered quickly up to the paddock to take Solange for a brisk turn or two about the town. It was not that she did not precisely trust the mare’s erstwhile owner should he see her on Solange, it was that she simply preferred not to take any risks. Not with the betting-odds
and
not with the animal.

As it happened, she was able to work with Solange that afternoon as well. With the gentlemen of the
ton
returned to London for the week, Mr d’Arblay found himself at such a loss
that he called to play billiards with his friend. The billiard room, most fortunately, was at the side of the house facing away from the stable.

When she returned they were still in there. Indeed, Mr d’Arblay stayed so long that Caroline, without in the least wishing to, was obliged to penetrate their masculine fastness to offer him dinner. He was all politeness, regretting that a trifling inconvenience with his digestion precluded him eating at such an early hour. Caroline accepted the fiction with a colourless nod of her head. She dearly hoped it was sheer habit of years that enabled Alexander to still call the man a friend.

As Caroline withdrew, Alex reflected he had never in his life had to apologize so much for Giles as he had since they had taken up residence in Newmarket. Later, however, when he touched awkwardly on the matter, Caroline merely smiled and said she was not in the least surprised his friend might find it slow at Penfold Lodge compared with the quality of his normal life.

He eyed her, suspecting irony, and retorted that it was more likely Giles had heard a rumour that the doctor had forbidden more than one bottle of wine to be opened at any one meal.

‘A baseless untruth,’ said Caroline serenely.

Untrue or not, it was another comfortable evening. Alex felt himself replete with good food and conversation, and sought his bed without repine at an hour Giles would have stigmatized as indecently early. And surprised himself by sleeping the night through with no dreams, no tumbled, sweat-soaked sheets – and no vagrant ribbons.

It wasn’t until he joined Caroline in the stable yard next morning that Alex realized the extraordinary fact that he had not yet seen her on a horse. Now, a rush of pleasure surprised him as he looked at her. She was wearing a dull green riding habit that became both her and Rufus very well, and she sat him upright and graceful. Tan leather boots and matching gloves completed the ensemble. The reins were loose in her hand, proclaiming her
unconscious ease in the saddle. Alex was impressed for Rufus was no small horse.

She had evidently taken the time to check Chieftain over before he arrived, for she complimented him on the brown gelding before asking whether he really felt up to a hack.

‘I really do,’ he assured her. ‘It is a fine day and I should like to be allowed to enjoy it without a catechism.’

She blushed and nudged Rufus to a walk. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. It must indeed have been frustrating for you to be kept indoors. I am always out of sorts myself when I am unable to ride for any period of time.’

‘Is that why you did not like London?’ he asked.

She shot a startled glance at him. ‘In part. Honoria is not seen to best advantage on horseback, so Mama did not think it necessary to hire us mounts. But I also found everything so artificial. Watching people at the parties was amusing for a while, until I realized that for many it is a matter of ceaseless work. Always to be seen in the right clothes, in the right places, with the right people. One is forever concerned about making the right connections, attracting the right attention. And then a single unthinking step out of line, one person offended, a careless or cutting remark about you by a person of consequence, can make all the effort count for naught. It sickened me.’

Alex felt a welling up of anger. ‘Were
you
slighted in some way?’

She laughed. ‘No, I had no expectations, so was not concerned enough to be disappointed. But I saw it happen to others. I saw the way people were treated when they were not rich, or beautiful, or well-connected. And then, of course, Lady Penfold fell ill and I was anxious about her so I
could
not make myself appealing. My mother was pleased enough to let me come home.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘I am sorry it was not an agreeable experience. I spend most of my time at my club when in town, or latterly at the House, but even so there is a lot to like
about the season. Though I too have frequently found balls and parties trying.’

‘It
is
hard to be universally affable,’ she agreed gravely.

‘It is hard when one’s political aspirations are continually interrupted because one is being chased by husband-hunters,’ he retorted without thinking. ‘And when one’s sister is behaving in a potentially disastrous manner completely overlooked by one’s imbecilic sister-in-law!’ Even as those words left his lips he felt himself cringe. ‘I beg your pardon. Would you be so forbearing as to instantly forget that last sentence?’

‘Forget what? Sorry, my lord, I was not attending.’ Caroline picked up her horse’s pace a little.

And that had not been well done of him either! What was it about her that always put him in the wrong? ‘Caroline,’ he said despairingly.