by Aileen Fish
Mr. Lumley patted her back. “Betrothal? The lady has not mentioned any impending engagement.”
She lifted her hand to wave him away and drew in a breath to quiet her spasms. Her voice came out strangled. “I was not aware of any. Sir Frederick must have misspoken.”
If possible, the man’s affect became even haughtier. “It hasn’t been announced, but I didn’t misspeak.”
Panic tightened her throat, making it harder to force words out. Robert had given her until the end of the Season to find a match. He couldn’t have already considered anyone’s offer. And surely, he’d never consider Sir Frederick. “I am certain you’re mistaken, sir. I’ve not agreed to any engagement.”
“As you are not yet one-and-twenty, the decision is not yours to make. Lord Northcotte will have the final say on whom you will marry.”
Heat rose up her body as her anger grew. Her hands shook until she clenched them in her lap. She couldn’t meet Mr. Lumley’s gaze, so she focused on Lady Hannah as she forced a smile. “The Season has just begun. It’s much too soon to be making decisions such as that. Lady Hannah, do you find it as warm in here as I? Would you care to walk in the garden with me?”
Mr. Lumley jumped to his feet and helped her rise. “I shall escort you two. The cool night air will do us all well.”
Without waiting for her friends, and without acknowledging Sir Frederick, Joanna fled to the hallway.
Mr. Lumley caught up with her a few steps later. “Could it be possible Sir Frederick speaks the truth?” He led her toward the ballroom, where they could go out into the garden.
“It can’t be. Northcotte promised me a full Season to find a husband.” She drew in a short breath, a tight band of fear keeping her from breathing deeper. The food she’d eaten churned in her stomach, and the thought of dancing again made her ill, no matter who partnered her.
“Why would your brother agree to a marriage you don’t want?”
She didn’t answer until they walked into the garden and stood in the light from a torch away from the other partiers. “I don’t know.”
Her took her gloved hand in his and patted it gently. “I’m sorry. It’s presumptuous of me to ask such a personal question. Think of me as the brother of your friend, if you’d like to talk about it.”
If only she could pour out her thoughts to him. But she’d just met him, and she still had some confusion about the way he’d reacted when she’d rescued Triton. Add the mortification knowing he’d witnessed Sir Frederick’s declaration, and her words just would not come. “Thank you, but I would rather not discuss it.”
“I understand.” He glanced up as footsteps approached.
Lady Hannah stormed up to them. “David, how could you leave me with that man? I was forced to beg him to help me find Mama, or he’d have escorted me out here.”
“I apologize, my thoughts were only for Lady Joanna at that moment. But you seem to have handled it well.”
She folded her arms and shifted her weight on one hip. “Some chaperone you are.”
“What could he have done to you in the crowded dining room? Save your histrionics. Help me cheer your friend, now.”
Lady Hannah turned to Joanna. “How thoughtless of me. My plight was nothing compared to what he did to you. Do you think anyone heard?”
“I hope not. I won’t marry that man, and having scandal attached to my name would prevent me from marrying anyone else.”
On the carriage ride home, Joanna watched out the window as the houses passed by. She’d danced most of the dances, met one very nice gentleman, yet all she could think about was Mr. Lumley’s lips. Smiling. Quirking to one side when he considered what was said. Full and firm, they made her wonder what they’d feel like pressed against hers.
Aunt Ophelia shifted on the opposite bench and pulled her shawl up over her shoulders. “Did you have a lovely time, my dear?”
“Quite so. And you, Aunt? Sir Jasper was most attentive.”
“He’s a charming man. I feel like I’m in my first Season when he’s around. I knew him then, you know.”
“Did you have a tendre for him, then? Yet you married Uncle Peter.”
Aunt Ophelia tucked a curl back into place beneath her feathered turban. “My father held out for a title. A mere knight wasn’t good enough for his daughter.”
Joanna couldn’t stop her giggle. “Uncle Peter was only a viscount, not much above a knight.”
“And a very good man. I didn’t regret the marriage, even though we never had children. He took good care of me.”
“He was a kind man, and a wonderful uncle. Mother and I’ve missed him. However, I am pleased to hear you’re renewing an old attachment.”
“Attachment…that is for young ladies. I find I’m rekindling something much warmer this time around. I believe you will be seeing Sir Jasper often while you are in Town.”
“And after I return home, perhaps? When you come for Christmas?”
“Perhaps. If I am to be blessed a second time.”
Twice blessed. Joanna would be pleased to experience that fortune a single time, but worried Robert would find a way to hinder it, somehow. He was not the same person he’d been before Father died, and she no longer knew what to expect from one moment to the next.
Father, do you see what you’ve done to us? Mother spent days on end in the sitting room adjoining her bedchamber, staring out the window with no expression on her face. The servants brought her meals to her and reported she never spoke. When Joanna would visit her room, Mother said little beyond, “That’s nice, dear,” or “I’m well, thank you.” Nice and well were not words Joanna would use to describe the woman’s condition.
If that was what deep love did to one, perhaps Joanna should agree to an arranged marriage like Aunt Ophelia and Uncle Peter’s. Looking again at the stately houses passing by, she wondered at the families who lived there. The larger the house, the greater the likelihood of an arranged marriage, or at least one involving something other than a love match in its beginning. She didn’t hold out hope for a duke or a marquess for herself, and had little interest in a home in Mayfair. As long as she had horses and children, she could be happy with any man.
Any man who’d allow her to spend time in the stables, that is.
The image of Sir Frederick appeared before her in the glass and she jerked away, watching it fade. He could be high on the list her brother might use from which to choose her husband. She couldn’t bear a life beside him, even if he had the finest stables in all of England. Even if he owned the Godolphin Arabian himself. Well, that horse had been dead so long she was being silly. But even the potential chance to train a horse of his bloodlines, while being a dream she’d never have the chance to attain, couldn’t tempt her into a marriage to Sir Frederick.
Joanna shivered and drew her shawl over her shoulders at the very thought.
The memory of another man she’d seen that evening came to mind. “Do you know Lord Westbourne well?”
“He’s an acquaintance of long duration, but not a friend.”
“Is he…well, does he wish to know you better?”
Aunt Ophelia yawned behind her hand. “It would appear he does. Pay him no mind, but do not feel you have to accept any invitation from him, should you see him again. If he approaches you at all, come find me or your mother. He’s not to be trusted. And he’s not offering marriage.”
“I understand.” Lord Westbourne was even lower than Sir Frederick. The Season had just begun and she’s already met two men to avoid at all costs. And only one man of promise, yet he didn’t seem to be hunting for a wife. If only she could convince Mr. Lumley otherwise.
Chapter Seven
David felt his horse dancing beneath him once they left London, the animal eager to run on the open road. The most difficult part of riding Triton to each race was the need to go the entire distance at a walk. Not only was there a risk of injury, but letting him run would leave him much too tired to race by the time they reached Newmar
ket, and defeat the entire purpose of the trip. He’d have to leave Triton behind when he returned to London this time, so his trainer could work with the horse and take him on to the next course at the close of the Second Spring Race Meeting.
He made a mental note to speak with the constable about the death of the young groom at the First Spring Meeting. By now, there should be some answers as to cause and possible suspects. He’d have to keep his eyes open and be alert to any suspicious activity. He’d remind Peter that Triton and Lass were not to be left alone at any time during the next week.
But what would prevent a man from tampering with the food or water at Fernleigh? The family stables were on the outskirts of Newmarket. If someone wanted to harm their animals, it was an easy ride to Fernleigh to do so.
He couldn’t become irrationally suspicious or he’d spend every waking moment in fear. His family didn’t seem to be the target in this last death, so he needed to calm down. Be on alert, of course, but not in a panic.
His thoughts wandered, and as they’d done often of late, they landed on the fair Lady Joanna. A few times in the past week, he’d had a nagging urge to speak to Northcotte about his sister. Not to suggest a match for the two of them, of course, but to discourage him from considering Sir Frederick as a potential husband for Lady Joanna. The very idea made bile rise in his gut. The image of the man’s hands on her porcelain skin—no, he couldn’t let the thought remain in his head.
If it did, he might feel tempted to consider asking for her himself. And he was not in a position to discuss marriage to anyone. In a few years, perhaps.
Lady Joanna would be married by then. Since he was not in love with her, that was no concern of his. He would likely forget her as soon as he found what he needed to know about Northcotte. He’d forget how her blue eyes darkened when they met his gaze, how her laughter made him smile no matter how irritable he felt. How his heart jumped when he spotted her across a crowded assembly.
Grimacing, he flexed his heels in the stirrups to keep from urging Triton to a fast pace. This was not a good time to be alone with his thoughts. If he were not careful, he’d fancy himself falling for Lady Joanna, which was completely at odds with his suspicion her father was behind Zephyr’s death.
Joanna trotted on horseback beside Lady Hannah and Amelia, with Wallis following. The afternoon sun beat down on the path through Hyde Park, making her Merino cloth riding habit much too warm. The crowd prevented them from traveling as fast as she’d prefer, but the slower pace made conversation easier. Besides, the mare she sat upon would never reach the speeds Patriot ran. For the near future, her stallion would be travelling from one race meeting to the next, so she must get used to this calm, proper pace.
She turned to Lady Hannah. “This might not be the place to discuss it, but how is your father faring? I hear such tales at the races, I hardly know what to believe.”
“He is in good health, but low spirits, especially since the loss of his brother and sister-in-law,” Lady Hannah said.
“I recall he became ill after his horse was killed some years past.”
Lady Hannah’s voice held a mixture of pride and sorrow. “Not just any horse. Zephyr was his prize stud, the foundation horse for Fernleigh Stud. He was quite the runner.”
Joanna frowned. “That is what I never understood. Why would someone poison a perfectly sound horse?”
Lady Hannah responded. “My brothers believe someone was envious of his wins. All I know is my father lost his joy for life when Zephyr died. We’ve won some races since, but it doesn’t bring back the excitement for him. He hasn’t been to a race meeting in years.”
Joanna realized they had that in common, a parent who’d slipped into melancholia with no apparent way to recover. Her new friend would understand the dark cloud constantly hovering in the background of one’s daily thoughts. And the need to escape the gloom and sorrow. She and Lady Hannah would be friends for a long time, she was certain.
“Tell me, what do you think of my brother?” Lady Hannah asked.
“Mr. David Lumley? He is rather handsome, I suppose.”
“Rather handsome. Do you think I don’t see how you study him when he’s not looking?”
Joanna laughed. “All right then, he is quite handsome. And witty. Quite pleasant to be around.”
“I wish you and he would form an attraction so we might be sisters. We’d have such fun together.”
“Now there is a reason for marrying I hadn’t considered. I shall add it to my list of qualities. The gentleman I marry must have amiable sisters.”
Lady Hannah joined in her laughter. “And you, Amelia, shall marry Knightwick.”
“I’ve seen him and agree most adamantly. I would have Knightwick in a moment, if he’d have me.”
“There is also Trey, who is two-and-twenty, and Sam will turn twenty in a few weeks,” Lady Hannah continued. “You see, you may have your choice of brothers.”
Amelia waved away the notion. “I’ve met Trey, I’m afraid, and I can’t claim any strong feelings toward him. Of the two, I much prefer Lord Knightwick. Besides, I would be called Lady Knightwick then. It suits me much better than Mrs. Lumley.”
Joanna could barely maintain her false indignation as she spoke, tipping her face away from her friends. “Aha, Mrs. Lumley is fine for me but you are above such a designation. I see how it stands between us now.”
“Oh, never. You deserve better than a viscount, as you are an earl’s daughter.” Amelia burst out in laughter again. “Who am I fooling? I could never aspire to marry a viscount, especially one who will one day be an earl. I’ve no wish to.”
Joanna sighed. “I agree. I care not if my husband is a mister or a duke. Just so long as he loves me.”
“That’s a relief,” Lady Hannah said. “You can marry my brother after all.”
Joanna didn’t push the argument that Mr. Lumley had expressed no interest in her. She let the conversation take its natural course and move on to the new pattern Amelia had seen at the modiste’s shop.
She’d all but forgotten the discussion of Lady Hannah’s brothers by the time the three ladies went shopping with Aunt Ophelia the next afternoon. As they rode in her aunt’s carriage, Amelia was aglow from having danced twice the previous night with her hopeful beau, Sir Richard.
“He dances so divinely,” Amelia said with a sigh.
“You do make a handsome couple.” Aunt Ophelia’s smile seemed to say she remembered the emotions of a first love.
“He asked if I would be attending Lady Foxley’s Venetian breakfast at Vauxhall on Saturday. Will you all be there? I would be so nervous without you beside me.”
Joanna looked to her aunt for confirmation. “I believe we accepted that invitation. I’ve never been to a Venetian breakfast. I’m not certain what to expect.”
“It’s merely a picnic,” Amelia explained. “In a beautiful setting of course.”
Aunt Ophelia nodded. “Some years, Lady Foxley has required Grecian dress, which is silly given the location of Venice, but Grecian was the thing that year. There will be music, food, drink, and all of the walkways to explore.”
The carriage stopped in front of the modiste’s shop and the footman opened the door. As Joanna followed Aunt Ophelia down the step, a familiar, and unwanted voice, rang out. “Lady Joanna. What luck. Are you shopping this afternoon?”
“Yes, as you see, Sir Frederick.” She motioned toward the shop door. Hearing her aunt clear her throat softly at her side, Joanna introduced him. “Sir Frederick is an acquaintance of Lord Northcotte’s.”
His smile appeared forced. “Charmed. Lady Joanna, while your friends shop, would you care to walk with me?”
Joanna’s brows drew together. The man was shockingly rude. “I’m engaged this afternoon, as you see. If you’ll excuse us, we have an appointment.”
“Then I shall call on you later.”
“I’ll not be home, sir. Please don’t trouble yourself. Another day, perhaps.” She looked to h
er aunt for aid.
“It was pleasant meeting you, Sir Frederick. Good day,” Aunt Ophelia said, then motioned for the girls to follow her indoors.
Amelia leaned close to Joanna’s ear once they were inside. “How insufferable. Does he call on you often?”
“I am not home during the day to find out. He does leave his card on occasion, or will have Robert pass along his greeting. He’s made reference to us becoming betrothed. I shudder at the thought of it.”
Aunt Ophelia patted her arm. “I can speak to your mother. Perhaps she has some influence over Robert. You should not have to marry against your wishes. Now ladies, let us forget about the man and look at the new patterns.”
The evening after David returned from the final race of the Second Spring Meeting, he went to White’s in search of Pierce. The man was so predictable, David didn’t bother stopping by his friend’s rooms first. As expected, he found Pierce in the middle of a card game with a large pile of winnings in front of him. “You appear to be enjoying a grand evening.”
“Lumley. What brings you to Town?”
David stood to one side, watching the deal and bets placed. “I’m in between excuses to stay away. I must escort Hannah for the next few weeks. Knightwick will accompany the horses to the race meetings.”
“How did Triton do?”
“A second and a third place. He’s close to winning, I’m certain. I believe I’ll go get a drink.”
Pierce nodded. “This game is growing dull. I’ll join you when this hand is done.”
David found a pair of comfortable chairs away from the noise and set his whisky on the table between them as he sat. Pierce followed shortly after, his own drink in hand. “Did you find what you were looking for in Newmarket?”
“Not exactly. The constable has no names to investigate. I’m still certain Northcotte is the culprit, however.”
Pierce took a swallow from his glass as he glanced about. “You believe he killed his own groom?”
