The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley
Read The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley Online
Authors: Aileen Fish
Tags: #regency england, #regency era, #regency historical romance, #regency england regency romance mf sweet love story, #regency 1800s, #regency era romance, #regency ebook, #traditional regency romance, #regency england 1800s
THE INCORRIGIBLE MR. LUMLEY
Aileen Fish
THE INCORRIGIBLE MR. LUMLEY
Copyright © 2013 Aileen Fish
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Published at Smashwords by Aileen Fish
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This book is a work of fiction. With the
exception of historical figures, any resemblance it bears to
reality is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
April, 1810
Newmarket, Sussex, England
The air held a hint of excitement and
promise of a fresh beginning. For David Lumley, the new year began
in spring. Not with the first foal in the family stable, but with
the Craven Race Meeting in Newmarket, the first official meeting of
the year. This was going to be a grand year for Triton, he could
feel it. Fernleigh Stud would be the name on everyone’s lips
again.
The crowd at the racecourse was as large as
David expected. He surveyed the grounds from his position near the
judging station. The social Season in London had yet to begin, so
the wives of the horse owners were all in attendance at the Craven.
From the way they all leaned close to each other and whispered in
the coffee house, they were eager to discover the latest
on
dits
. David was always astounded when he overheard how much
went on in the homes of the
ton
during the winter months.
His life seemed thankfully dull in comparison.
He had no desire to listen to gossip, but
soon he’d be unable to escape it. He’d promised to escort his
sister, Hannah, in her first London Season. In preparation over the
winter, Mother had dragged him to afternoon teas and the morning
calls she and Hannah made to their neighbors in the village near
Bridgethorpe Manor. Dull, precisely timed events where the
conversations were by rote up to the moment someone let slip she’d
heard
news
. No matter on whom the juicy tidbit focused. All
other voices in the room silenced so the speaker’s slightest
inflection could be heard.
It was all too much for a man to bear.
David wound through the milling people on
his way to the stables. He found his groom, Peter, in the stall
with Triton, just completing his work. As the boy gathered his
tools, David patted the bay’s shoulder. “How is he this
morning?”
“Right as always,” said Peter. “He’s got a
bit of the devil in ’im. He’ll be after showing them other horses
who’s king.”
“Just as long as he wins. I’m counting on
him.”
Peter put the tools into a bag and opened
another, removing the carefully folded shirt made in the colors of
Fernleigh Stud, the orange body with yellow sleeves. He donned the
garment and the black hat that completed the uniform.
David stepped back as the youth saddled the
horse and then freed the reins from the iron ring on the side of
the stall. Together they led Triton out of the stables and to the
examination area. Other grooms and horses milled about in
preparation for the race. David glanced at the schedule. “We’re
entered in the third race. You’ll have him warmed up?”
“Of course, sir. He’ll be ready to race ’is
best, never worry.”
Peter’s cocky grin said his boss always
worried, but David didn’t reprimand the lad. Peter was the best
groom and rider he’d come across, with a natural knack for
understanding what a horse was thinking. He could bring more out of
an animal than any of the trainers they’d paid good money to, and
the animals seemed calmer around him.
“You see that he does race his best,” David
called out with a growl. A useless effort. There was no sense
trying to sound more authoritative when Peter knew who paid his
wages, and showed due respect when the situation called for it.
Assured his horse was in good hands, David
crossed the grounds, nodding and calling greetings to those he
recognized. His brother Adam, Viscount Knightwick, should have
arrived by now. As he scanned the gathering crowd, his gaze landed
on the last face he wanted to see at the Spring Meeting, or any
other race event.
Northcotte.
Blast it.
David’s gut knotted at the
sight of the man. Ducking behind a pair of gentlemen walking in the
earl’s direction, David darted around the corner of a building
where he could eavesdrop without being noticed. He peered out into
the lane. Robert Hurst, Lord Northcotte, stood with a particularly
handsome young lady, and their sharp exchange reached David’s
ears.
The young lady folded her arms across her
chest, and the tiny, pale blonde ringlets framing her face trembled
with tension. “I am going to ride him. No one will know. I’ve
trousers in the stable, and I can wear Bruce’s shirt and cap. With
my hair tucked up, no one will recognize me.”
Northcotte jerked her arm. “You will not
consider it. Do you want to risk everything I’ve left? I’ll find a
jockey and Patriot will be entered as planned. You may tell Bruce
his services are no longer needed.”
“I’ll do no such thing! That boy needs the
wages for his family, and it’s not his fault he is ill. You cannot
hire some stranger to ride Patriot. You know he’ll never allow a
strange man on his back. I must be the one to ride him or we may as
well scratch him from the race.”
“I’ll hear no more of this, Joanna. Go find
Mother and let me handle this.”
Northcotte released her arm and strode off
toward the stables. The young lady must be his sister, Lady Joanna.
She stood for a moment and watched him go, then spun on her heel
and stomped off in the opposite direction.
David smiled at her forceful steps in the
dirt. She seemed much like Hannah. Stubborn, impulsive, and too
daring by half. He chuckled and shook his head. Those qualities
could make Hannah’s search for a husband drag on for years. Even
her beauty would not compensate for her strong character in the
minds of many men. He’d have to make certain Mother didn’t expect
his services as chaperone to run beyond one Season.
Northcotte’s sister had to be dicked in the
knob to suggest she wear trousers and ride in the race. Northcotte
had the right of it—he’d be disqualified, and laughed out of the
Jockey Club books, if not actually banned from competing. If Hannah
ever dared such a thing, David would have her sent back to
Bridgethorpe Manor for the remainder of the racing season.
Shaking his head, he followed the pretty
blonde in the direction of the paddock, where he found Knightwick
leaning on the upper rail of the fence. Peter and Triton loped
around the space, getting warmed up before the races began. The
three-year-old horse’s gait was long and even, covering the ground
with no effort.
As he reached the fence, David slapped
Knightwick on the shoulder. “I believe we have the winning horse
this year.”
“You’ve said as much these three years
past,” Knightwick replied with a teasing grin.
“But this year I’m right. Triton has the
heart of a winner. He loves to be out front. Start him behind the
other colts and he’ll run that much faster to best them.”
Knightwick shook his head. “His chest is
narrow, he’s willful and as likely to turn in the opposite
direction as run the course. We never should have bred his dam. I’m
rather surprised she let the Black Knight close enough to cover
her.”
“You’re nit-picking. Triton is the horse
we’ve been waiting for.”
Neither brother completed the thought
aloud…Triton was the horse they were counting on to save their
stables after the death of Zephyr, their father’s prize-winning
stud, six years ago.
David absently tapped his fingers on the
fence rail while observing the other animals circling before them.
“Did the trip to London with Mother and Hannah pass
uneventfully?”
“Yes. Hannah chattered the entire trip.”
Knightwick offered his brother a wry glance. “Rather convenient of
you to leave a week early so you couldn’t accompany them.”
David grunted. “I promised Mother I’d arrive
in Town in time for Hannah’s first ball, and would attend as many
assemblies as I can. But first she must be outfitted, presented in
court and all that sort of feminine thing. I’m not going to miss a
race meeting this spring, not when I’m so confident in Triton.”
“I’ll wager Mother said you are too much
like Father in that.”
Laughing, he agreed. “I ask you, what
purpose do I have in London? Mother is there to chaperone. I’ve no
wish to see which ladies are on the hunt. Nor do I care to be
packed into the crowded assemblies filled with the stench of too
many bodies and liberally applied perfumes. I’d much rather be in a
stall filled with the more natural scent of
eau de
cheval
.”
Knightwick glanced at him from the corner of
his eye. “Maybe you’ll find one of those bodies belongs to a lady
you wish to know better.”
“Not bloody likely. You have yet to take a
bride, and you’re the one with the responsibilities. My only
concern is this.” He waved an arm at Triton. “He and Lumley’s Lass
will be my primary focus until the final race meeting this
year.”
Knightwick made a strangled noise and
straightened, staring across the paddock. “What is he doing
here?”
Without looking, David knew whom his brother
had spotted. “I wondered the same thing. From what I overheard, it
appears Northcotte has a horse entered in one of the courses
today.”
“Why did the Jockey Club allow him to
enter?”
“What reason do they have to block him? No
one charged him with anything. He can race any horse he owns, just
like the rest of us.”
Rubbing the back of his hand across his
mouth, as if wiping away a bad taste, Knightwick said, “I don’t
trust him. Tell Peter to stay with Triton at all times, even sleep
in the stalls. I’ll go find Nick and make sure he stays with
Lass.”
“You can’t think he’d be foolish enough to
try anything after the inquiry last year.”