Fortune's Wish (Fortunes of Fate Book 4)

by Eileen Richards

  The ride home was quick and reckless, but she didn’t care. The horse beneath her had sensed her anguish and had run like the wind through the fields and pastures leading to the back of Rosethorne Stables. Victoria hadn’t cared if was dangerous. Her thoughts were consumed with what she’d learned.

  This should have been the happiest night of her life. The man she loved returned her love. She could be engaged. She could be planning the life she wanted: children, a home, a man who adored her.

  Instead she was angry. Tired. Frustrated. And so, incredibly sad.

  She couldn’t marry John now, not with the scandal of this tainting her family. She was guilty by association. The whole racing community knew how much time she spent training those horses. There was no way they would believe that she wasn’t involved.

  She would be trapped here, in this hell, forever.

  She reined the horse in and dismounted, then prepared to lead the horse into the stable and remove the saddle. She’d rub the horse down and let the activity sooth her anger and her sadness.

  Sims stepped out of the stables into the night. He carried a lantern. “I thought you were with your father, miss.”

  “I had a headache.”

  “It’s dangerous to be riding that horse through the woods in the dark.”

  “I don’t care.” She could barely control her anger at this man who’d mentored her, treated her more like a beloved daughter than her own father.

  He took the reins from her. “That’s not like you.”

  “No. It’s not.” She folded her arms, pressed her lips together in an effort to hold onto her composure but it was all in vain. “Why did you bribe Sir John’s jockey to throw the race in Milnthorpe?”

  He stilled, then turned to her. “Who told you?”

  “Sir John. Why? Why do it?”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Let’s get this old girl put away for the night and then we’ll talk, miss.”

  “I just need to understand how often this happened and why.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

  “I’m old, Miss Penwith. Too old to find another job as a stable master. Too old to keep working here for much longer. Your father was going to sack me, if I didn’t do this. The wife loves it here. Our children are here. I had no choice.”

  “How many races did you fix?”

  “Four total, including Milnthorpe. I questioned Penwith’s decision for that one, but was overruled. No one talks your father out of anything. He was hell bent on gaining membership to the Jockey Club no matter what it took.”

  She tightened her arms around her middle trying to hold the screams in. All of this to satisfy her father’s vanity. “I don’t understand why he needed to do this. Tychee is a great horse. We would have won.”

  “Insurance. Tychee is good, but not win-every-race good.”

  “Father wanted to strut around like a peacock and crow over the aristocracy,” Victoria said bitterly. “He’s never been satisfied with his station in life.”

  Sims nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” What could she do? The damage was already done. Her choices were limited.

  “Marry Sir John. Let him take you to Sussex until the scandal passes. It will and very quickly as Mr. Penwith isn’t some titled toff.”

  “It’s my reputation as well. I can’t allow this to taint Sir John. Not after he’s worked so hard to repair his own reputation again.”

  “You’ll be his wife. People won’t remember who you were.”

  Victoria glared at him. “It’s my reputation as well. My work. My horse. My methods.”

  He met her glare with a sad smile. “I am so sorry, Miss Penwith.” He turned back to the stables leading the horse inside. He took the lantern with him.

  She stared up at the house, light spilling out into the park. A servant moved from room to room snuffing out candles. She felt like one of those candles that had burned to long, sputtering on the pool of wax.

  She made her way into the house, choosing the front door rather than sneaking in the back as she’d planned. The library door was open and her father sat at his desk.

  “Victoria? What are you doing outside?”

  His overloud voice boomed through the quiet house. She closed her eyes. This was not something she wanted to discuss with him. Not now. Not while she was feeling so broken. “I thought some fresh air would help my head.”

  “You look horrible.”

  “I just need to sleep off this headache. If you will excuse me, Father.”

  “Just remember that Mr. Connells and Sir John will be here in the morning. I’ve received a note earlier. I’ll expect you to play hostess. I think I’ll have a bottle of champagne ready to celebrate.”

  There would be no celebration, but he wouldn’t hear it from her. This was a secret she would have to keep for the rest of her life. “Yes, Father.”

  She left him in the library and crept up the stairs to her room. She closed the door silently, then sunk to the floor in a heap of skirts. Sobs consumed her. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound as she gave into the pain.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, John sat across from Connells as the carriage pulled into the park at Rosethorne. He had not slept all night. He kept seeing how happy Victoria looked when he’d proposed then the anguish as her world shattered around her. God, he wanted to spare her, but there was no way to hide this information.

  In the past he’d have kept the news to himself. Hell, he’d have relished delivering the news to Penwith, but now, he wanted to snatch Victoria into a carriage and make for Scotland, then tuck her away until the scandal was forgotten. And it would be forgotten. The aristocracy moved on quickly to the next juicy tidbit of scandal.

  “We have to do this, Townsend,” Luke Connells said from the other side of the carriage.

  “I am well aware of that.”

  John hadn’t wanted to let her go home alone, but he had no choice. He’d ridden after her for a bit to make sure she got home safe. It had been a difficult task. She’d taken a different way through the back pastures and let the horse run hell for leather. He then watched her arrive at the stables.

  John had hung back, not wanting her to know that he’d seen her home safe. But Sims had. The man looked like he’d lost his best friend. In a way he had. Sims was much more of a father to Victoria than her own had been. The man tipped his hat and walked away. John had ridden home and tried to sleep.

  The carriage door opened and he stepped out onto the gravel drive in front of the house, bracing himself for what was to come. It wouldn’t be a pleasant call.

  “I want to talk to the stable master before we face Penwith,” John said coldly. He had to know what was said. Did Penwith have a clue why they were here?

  Without expecting Connells to follow he walked to the stables and peeked into the small room where he’d seen Victoria working on her records. He’d looked at those books, meticulously kept in her feminine hand. Now Sims sat in the chair looking at papers. John rapped on the door.

  “Sir John, Mr. Connells.” The man got hastily to his feet.

  “Give us a moment, Connells.”

  “Of course.”

  John waited until Connells was out of earshot and stepped into the room. He closed the door behind him with a quiet snip. “What happened last night?”

  “You didn’t hear?”

  “I didn’t want her to know that I was following her.”

  The man scrubbed his face. “She’s furious and I don’t blame her. We let her down.”

  “She had nothing to do with this.” It was a statement. He knew the truth.

  “God, no. She’d have had my guts for garters, if she did. If you were a smart man, you’d take her from here, marry her, and never let her look back.”

  “My intentions for Miss Penwith have not changed. If she’ll have me, I plan to marry her.”
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  “People are going to think she’s guilty along with her father. You might be removed from the Jockey Club, or worse.”

  “I’ve faced worse. I can do it again.”

  Sims nodded. “Best be prepared for a fight. Penwith is a bastard. He’d blame his own mother if it kept him out of trouble. And he won’t let that girl go. She’s his bread and butter.”

  Sims’s statement gave him pause. “What do you mean he won’t let her go?”

  “Miss Penwith has been jilted, but it wasn’t that the men didn’t want her. It was that Penwith didn’t want to lose his trainer. You see she trains all the racers. She’s been doing it for years. Penwith wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for that girl and her way with horses. She’s got the gift.”

  “Penwith paid them off?”

  “Or ran them off if they were too persistent.” Sims studied him. “You going to treat her the same? She could make your stables the best in England.”

  John tugged at his waistcoat. “I don’t care if she steps into another stable as long as she lives. She can do as she pleases. And our stables will be just fine no matter what she chooses to do.”

  Sims nodded. “You’ll do.”

  John opened the door and stepped out. Connells was standing in front of Tychee’s stall. “He’s a magnificent horse.”

  “He is.”

  Sims stepped out beside him. “We planned to race him in Kendal.”

  “That is out of the question,” Connells said.

  “Yes, sir. And that’s a shame. It would be a fair race this time.”

  “We best get up to the house, Townsend.” Connells said.

  John nodded. Talking to Sims was important. He wanted the man to know that he had Victoria’s best interests at heart. He would make this right for her. He just had no idea how he was going to make that happen.

  John led the way back to the house and rapped hard on the door. A footman welcomed them inside and they stepped into the large entrance hall. As John handed over his hat, a movement on the stairs caught his eye. Victoria.

  She looked tired, her eyes puffy as if she’d been crying. She was dressed in a drab brown day dress. Dressed to blend into the background.

  He wanted to grab her and run. Take her far away from here and the pain he knew was to come. Pain he’d inflicted. It still gutted him, but he couldn’t see a way for them to be together without honesty between them.

  He stepped to the stairs to meet her, but she stepped around him.

  “I believe Father is waiting for you in the library.”

  “Will you be joining us?”

  “Yes.”

  The anguish in her voice cut him to the bone. He followed Victoria into the room. The curtains had been opened to let in the light. Penwith stood behind his desk.

  “Come in, Sir John and Mr. Connells. Good to see you this morning. Victoria, ring for tea for our guests.”

  “Miss Penwith, that won’t be necessary,” John said. “We won’t be staying long.”

  Penwith took his seat, but John waited until Victoria had taken a seat to his left before sitting in the large chair in front of the desk. It was not lost on him that Penwith chose the seat of power. He motioned to Connells to start.

  “Mr. Penwith, it has come to our attention that you’ve been fixing races.”

  Everything in the room stilled. Even the bits of dust floating in the sunlight seem to freeze. Shock glanced off of Penwith’s face before it flushed red with anger.

  “I should call you out for that.”

  “We have evidence that you bribed Sir John’s rider to throw the race on at least two occasions,” Connells said.

  “You have no proof.”

  “My jockey has confessed, Penwith,” John said coldly.

  “You would take the word of a lackey over me?” His voice boomed in the room.

  Victoria jerked a bit in her chair. Her hands were folded in her lap, but the grip was so tight, he could see the very white tips of her nails. Her father’s anger frightened her. This just fed John’s own anger at the man.

  “The evidence is very compelling, Mr. Penwith,” Connells continued. “There will need to be further investigations into this matter before your membership into the Jockey Club can be confirmed.”

  John glanced at Connells. Confirmed? When they’d walked in, Connells was going to immediately deny membership.

  “I don’t know who is telling you these lies, but I will get to the bottom of it. I did not bribe anyone. I don’t need to fix races.”

  John leaned back in his chair. “I completely agree, Mr. Penwith. Tychee is an excellent horse, well-bred and well trained. Why would you feel the need to fix a race?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Yet my jockey insists that a man in your employ approached him just last week at the Milnthorpe race with fifty pounds.”

  “Who is this man in my employ. I’ll see that he’s fired immediately.”

  “Father,” Victoria’s voice cut through her father’s bombastic vitriol. “Enough.”

  Her voice was firm. She stood, her hands folded, her eyes on her father.

  Penwith’s face flushed a deeper red. “How dare you talk to me this way! Go to your room. I will deal with you later.”

  “We will deal with this now.”

  She was glorious, a tiny Amazon facing her enemy. John couldn’t have been prouder of her at this moment.

  She turned to John. “I spoke with Sims and he has confirmed your acussaions. Father did indeed provide the money to pay your jockey to fix the race in Lancaster and in Milnthorpe.”

  “Lies! All lies,” Penwith shouted. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Father, you did this to ensure your entry into the jockey club. Tychee is good, but not that good. She should have lost a few of those races where the distance was longer. She’s not a long-distance runner. I should have paid more attention to what was going on in those races. I should have been more suspicious, but I wanted to believe she was capable.”

  “This is your fault, Victoria.”

  John jumped to his feet. “I hardly think that Miss Penwith—”

  “Stay out of this and stay away from my daughter.”

  Victoria laughed--a hollow, lonely, bitter sound. “My only fault is not figuring this out before it came to this. Though, Lord knows, there’s no stopping you from doing something stupid when you’ve put your mind to it, Father.”

  Penwith sputtered, but nothing came out. His anger was a pot boiling furiously on the stove, and John wasn’t comfortable with what would happen to Victoria when Penwith finally boiled over.

  “Miss Penwith, we realize that you had no knowledge of the incidents in questions. Our report will reflect that.”

  “But—” She said sadly. “There are a great deal of buts in your voice, Mr. Connells.”

  “But the fact that your father’s involvement will be public—well, you should be prepared for the outcome.”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “I know.”

  “I will be delaying my report for another week. There are several more loose ends that I need to resolve, but I can assure you, Mr. Penwith, the Jockey Club will be denying your membership, at the very least, given what we’ve discovered this morning.”

  “I want another investigation. I want the chance to prove my innocence.” Penwith screamed.

  “What would be the worst outcome, Mr. Connells,” Victoria asked quietly.

  “Penwith and Rosethorne Stables will be banned from racing in any Jockey Club sanctioned race.”

  “But that’s all the money races,” Penwith said.

  “Yes. The Jockey Club takes its rules very seriously, Mr. Penwith.”

  “You can’t tell me that other members haven’t fixed a race, Connells. I won’t believe it.”

  “Sir, I’m sure there have been instances where race-fixing has been done. We are not so naive as to suggest that every member is lily-white when it comes to this, but all instances have been
investigated and dealt with.”

  Connells rose from his seat. “Thank you for your time.”

  John rose, but he didn’t want to leave, not when Penwith was so angry and Victoria the target, but he had no choice. He tried to catch her eye, to see if she needed him to stay, but she wouldn’t look at him. He followed Connells out and took his hat from the footman.

  His boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way to the carriage. “I can’t leave her like this. I’ll beg a ride back to the house on one of Penwith’s horses.”

  Connells shrugged and muttered something about love and fools and got into the carriage. He signaled the driver to leave. John stood there outside of the house. Now what? He couldn’t go in. He couldn’t stand out here like a dunce. It was then that Sims motioned him from the stables. He walked over and met him halfway.

  “Why are you still here?” Sims asked.

  “Penwith is out of control, I didn’t want to leave Victoria.”

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  “No,” John paused. “Has he ever struck her?”

  “No, but words can hurt more than fists and take longer to get over.”

  “Christ.”

  “The library windows are open and there’s a door out to the terrace on this side. We can stand there and intervene if we need to.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sims grabbed his arm. “Just figure out a way to get her away from here.”

  “She may not leave the damned horse.”

  “Take her and the horse and leave. She deserves happiness.”

  John nodded but even he knew that Victoria wouldn’t leave until she was damn well ready to leave.

  Victoria stood in her father’s library and waited until she heard the carriage conveying Mr. Connells and Sir John pull away. She wanted no witnesses.

  “Why are you staring at me like that. Go to your room.” Her father’s voice boomed.

  “I’m eight and twenty, Father. I have not followed that order for years.”

  “Then leave me.”

  “Not until I’ve had my say.”

  “You don’t get a say.”

  She crossed the room to the front of his large wooden desk and slammed her hands down hard. The noise reverberated throughout the room. Her father jerked. “I do get a say. Because of you and your greed and vanity, my life is ruined. Because of your greed and vanity, I’ve had to turn down yet another proposal of marriage to a good man. Because of your greed and vanity, I’m going to have to make out how I’m going to support myself for the remainder of my life. Indeed, I do have a say.”