Fortune's Wish (Fortunes of Fate Book 4)

by Eileen Richards

  “I did this for you.”

  She straightened. “For heaven’s sake, Father, at least be honest in this moment. This had nothing to do with me. Everything is about you. Your stables. Your horses. Your vain attempt to be better than your station.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I know you paid those other suitors off. You did whatever it took to keep me here, training those damned horses.”

  “Those gentlemen weren’t worthy of you.”

  She resisted the urge to slam her hands down again. “I’m done.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I will be sending inquiries out to my cousins to see if one of them can take me in. I will be leaving Rosethorne as soon as I can.”

  “If you leave, I will not allow you to come back.” He was back to shouting at her, his face flushed with anger.

  “You are under the impression that I want to live with a liar and a cheat.”

  “I should slap you for that, girl!”

  “Do it. I dare you. It’s the only thing you haven’t done in my life.”

  He stared at her in shock.

  “I have taken the criticisms, the insults, the little digs about my looks and my age. I’m not taking it any longer.”

  “You have no money. You can’t go.”

  “We have one race before you are completely ruined in the racing world. I’m racing Tychee under my name. If I win the money, claim the cup, as I fully think I shall, I’ll have the money.”

  “That horse is mine. Everything here is mine. I could have you for stealing.”

  “Is that what you want, Father? More scandal? You’re going to barely survive this one. Tychee is mine. I’ve raised that horse. Trained that horse. She comes with me when I leave.”

  He leaned back in his chair, deflated and old.

  “Why did you really do it?” Her voice was soft as the anger trailed out of her. She’d get her way. She’d won this battle, at least. She was under no false illusions of how hard life was going to be going forward, but she would survive. “You didn’t need to. The horse is extraordinary.”

  “Everything we have is because of your mother. She married beneath her when she married me. I wanted something of my own, to show her family that I wasn’t beneath her.”

  “Mother has been dead for almost twenty years, father. How is that an excuse?”

  He scrubbed his face. “It’s not.”

  She turned to leave the room needing the wide-open spaces of the fields and the wind in her hair to sooth the pain away before she started her planning.

  “Sir John would marry you.” Father’s voice was softer, his tone almost begging.

  She paused at the door. “He proposed last night.”

  “He could take care of you, Victoria. Make sure you are safe. Give you a good life.”

  She closed her eyes against the stinging smart of tears. Why had it taken this to give her the father she needed? She wrapped this tiny moment around her like a shawl against the cold night air and held it close. She turned back to Father, letting all the anguish show on her face. “I refused his offer. I won’t bring him down with us, Father.”

  She walked out of the library and out the front door, towards the stables, her head down.. The urge to ride away from all of this was so strong right now. She needed distance to think, to plan.

  “Victoria!”

  Sir John spoke her name and she stopped, surprised he had remained.. He touched her shoulder and she turned to face him.

  “Are you all right, love?”

  She closed her eyes at the endearment. Another treasure, his love. “I’m fine.”

  “I overheard you standing up to him. Remind me to never make you angry.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where are you going?”

  “Right now, for a ride. Then there are some letters to write. I’m hoping one of my cousins will take me in.” She glanced back at the house. “I can’t stay here.”

  “Victoria, I have not withdrawn my proposal of marriage.”

  “I cannot accept, Sir John.”

  “But—”

  “I cannot allow you to be dragged into this mess and that’s just what will happen if I marry you. No one will believe that I wasn’t involved. No one will believe that I didn’t know this was going on. I’m the damned trainer of those horses.”

  “I don’t care.” He grabbed her hands and pressed his lips to her palms. “I’ve weathered worse.”

  She pulled her hands free. “I care. You’ve worked so hard to bring your estate and your stables back to their original state. You’ve been through your hell. I can’t put you through it again. Please don’t ask me to.”

  “What will you do?”

  She shrugged. “Find a family member who will take pity on me and take me in, I guess. There are not a great many choices for a woman in this world.”

  “Promise me you will keep in touch. Let me know where you are.”

  “I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

  “Promise me, Victoria. Please, at least do this.”

  “I promise.”

  Chapter 11

  Sir John poured another splash of whiskey into his glass and swirled it around. He needed to get good and drunk. It numbed the pain, though in his mind this was a pain that was going to be around for a very long time.

  The whole morning had gutted him. Penwith showed no remorse for his actions. Hell, he’d blamed Victoria for it. She’d been amazing. He’d stood there listening just outside the library, tense and ready to come to her defense. She hadn’t needed him.

  Hell, he should have realized she probably never needed him like he needed her. Victoria was strong, resourceful, smart. Hell, if she’d been a man, she’d have taken the Turf world by storm with her breeding and training methods. It was the reason Penwith kept her under his thumb for so long. He knew what he had.

  And the bastard had destroyed it by fixing races. Now she had nothing.

  John downed the whiskey and grimaced as the fire burned down his throat. It had been three years since he’d gotten good and drunk. He’d avoided it because part of the trouble he’d gotten himself into was caused by too much drink.

  Now even the alcohol could not numb his feelings of loss and frustration. Damn it, why couldn’t he fix this? He, who always had a plan for every aspect of his life, couldn’t come up with a solution to make this right for Victoria. He was going to lose her. He could feel her slipping out of his grasp and it gutted him.

  “This just came for you, sir.”

  A footman came into the room with a silver tray. On it lay an envelope with Rosethorne Stables address on it. Hope washed over him like a spring rain. Taking the envelope from the tray, he dismissed the footman. The address was written in a masculine hand.

  It wasn’t from her.

  He set the glass of whiskey down and ran his thumb under the seal to open the folded pages. It was from Sims. He scanned the contents in disbelief. His hands shook. His heart thumped hard in his chest. He scanned the note again to confirm what he’d read. This changed everything. Sims had found a way around to race Tychee in Kendal. He’d found a way to give Victoria her pride back. The only catch was convincing Connells, and he wasn’t one to change his mind or bend the rules where the Turf was concerned.

  Of course, there was still convincing Victoria to marry him. This didn’t eliminate the scandal. It fed it. John splashed more whiskey into the glass.. This romance business was painful.

  “Do you plan on drinking all day, Townsend?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.” He replaced the stopper in the decanter and picked up his glass. He moved through the room and plopped down into one of the large leather chairs.

  Tony Matthews closed the door and moved to the opposite chair. “Your conversation with Penwith went that well, did it?”

  “The bastard denied doing it. Even his own staff is admitting their guilt in the whole ordeal. Does Penwith give in? No! He blamed Victoria.”

&n
bsp; “How did Victoria handle it?”

  “Like a queen. She was amazing.”

  “She’ll make you a good wife.”

  “She turned me down.” He tossed back more whiskey, his eyes scrunching shut as it burned down his throat.

  “Well that explains why you’re determined to finish off my good whiskey.”

  The whiskey soured in his stomach. They’d all been too stupid to realize her worth. Except for her father, who stupidly threw it all away.

  She’d done something that no one else had been able to do. She’d been successful in creating one of the greatest horses in history in an area not known for racing. While Penwith had been fixing races, he couldn’t deny that Tychee was a once-in-a-lifetime type of race horse.

  He recalled Connells’ amazement at her breeding notes. She knew every horse—its personality, temperament, strength, speed. She’d bred those traits she thought would make a good horse and she’d been successful. In this moment, he had never felt prouder of her.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “She refused me, Matthews. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Why?”

  “To protect me from scandal.”

  “Smart woman. Given you’re not so distant past round of scandal, marrying a Penwith would just put you back into the fray. No one will believe she had nothing to do with it.”

  He stilled as a thought came over him. “Is she listed as trainer?”

  “I just assumed that Penwith would list her name.”

  “What if he didn’t?”

  “What if who didn’t do what? I’m confused here, Townsend.”

  “What if Penwith did not list Victoria as the trainer. What if it were Sims instead?”

  “What difference would that make?”

  John ran his hand over his face. “As Penwith’s daughter, she had very little to do with the actual races. She didn’t travel with him very much and when she did, she was expected to play the dutiful daughter. She was not the trainer.” “

  “Society will give her a pass because she’s just a woman? I don’t know, Townsend. I don’t know if it will work.”

  “Not by itself, maybe not. But this isn’t just about avoiding the scandal. Victoria’s pride is also involved. She’s worked hard to prove herself and her methods. Penwith just threw all of that away. There has to be away to restore her pride in her work.”

  “Now you are stretching it. There is no way can you do that and keep her out of the middle of the scandal.”

  “I might be able to with this.” John held up the note. “It’s from Sims, who has found a way for Tychee to race in Kendal.”

  Given the news he had from Sims, an inkling of an idea was brewing and if it worked, he’d be able to let her race her horse in Kendal. It should also lessen the effect of scandal. If he could pull that off, she just might marry him.

  “Matthews, I need your help. Do you still get the racing papers?”

  “Of course.”

  “We need to find out if Penwith listed Victoria in any of them. Can you check for me? And can I borrow some paper and your pen? I need to send a note.”

  “To whom?”

  “Connells. I need to talk him into letting Tychee race on Saturday.”

  He stood and set the glass on the table. He moved to the desk where Matthews had laid out pen and paper and scrawled two notes. He folded them, sealed them, and rang for a footman. The man entered. “See this is delivered to the stable master, Sims, at Rosethorne. And this one delivered to Mr. Connells at the inn in the village.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man dashed out.

  “You have a plan.”

  “I have a plan to keep her from humiliation. I’m missing a plan to win her back.” At least he could give her this—a chance to get some of her own back.

  “Then we’ve work to do and I think I know just who might help us.”

  “Who?”

  Matthews grinned. “My wife. She’s the only one I know who can help us come up with a way to get Victoria to accept your proposal.”

  Hours later, after having explained all the details to his sister, twice, John could finally put the first part of his plan into action. He rode his horse into Beetham to the only inn and public house. It was an old sprawling place near the mill. He handed the reins to one of the boys in the courtyard and stepped inside.

  The noise from the public area was loud and he pulled out his watch. Workers were coming in for a pint. He took a few steps into the large crowded room and searched for Connells who was nursing a pint by the window in the back.

  He weaved through the crowd and pulled out a chair. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Of course, though I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

  John held up his hand. “I’d like to wait until Jeb Sims joins us.”

  “Penwith’s stable master? What would be the point?”

  John wished he’d stopped and grabbed a pint at the bar. “I need your help, but I need Sims to help me convince you.”

  Connells played with his glass. “We’ve been over this, Townsend. We bend the rules for no one.”

  “I’m not asking you to bend the rules.”

  “I’m not going to bury this. We cannot allow Penwith membership in the Jockey Club.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you. I just need you to look at this in a different way.”

  “Why?”

  His face heated. “Connells, I want to marry the girl, but she won’t agree because of the scandal this will create.”

  “And you want me to help with that. Townsend, you are mad.”

  John hesitated. “Let me ask you a question. How surprised were you to find that Miss Penwith was the person behind the breeding program at Rosethorne?”

  Connells shrugged. “Somewhat surprised. Her name hasn’t been connected to Rosethorne in that way before.”

  “You don’t recall her being listed as trainer either?”

  Connells frowned. “Not that I recall.”

  “Excellent,” John spotted Sims at the entrance into the public room and waved him over.

  Sims approached the table, pulled out a chair, and took a seat. “Gentlemen.”

  John looked at Sims. “Did you bring the papers?”

  “What papers? Townsend, what the hell is going on?” Connells said.

  “Sims, can you confirm that Miss Penwith is in no way connected to Rosethorne’s stables except as the daughter of the owner?

  “Yes, sir. I was always listed as trainer. Penwith didn’t want his daughter connected.”

  “Except that it’s her father who bribed those jockeys,” Connells said. “People will make the connection, Townsend.”

  “Yes, they will, but as the daughter of a fallen man, how much attention would she receive?”

  Connells shrugged.

  John leaned forward. “She needs to race Tychee in the Kendal Cup.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Penwith owns the horse.”

  John smiled. He had him. “If the official owner of the horse is not Penwith, she could race the horse?”

  “Penwith won’t sell the horse.”

  “He doesn’t have to,” Sims said. “The deal was that if he was caught fixing races, Tychee would be mine.” Sims slapped a rolled-up document onto the table.

  Connells unrolled the document and read through it. “Why would he sign this?”

  “When that was drawn up, Tychee had yet to win a race. Penwith thought he was giving away just another horse, not a winner.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t demand that you break the agreement,” Connells said.

  Sims shrugged. “Penwith didn’t believe he could be caught.”

  “He wouldn’t have been if my own jockey hadn’t gotten drunk and confessed,” John added. “Penwith doesn’t own the horse. Can we race it?”

  “Sims is in this as deep as Penwith. I can’t allow the horse to race.”

  John glanc
ed at Sims who pulled another document out of his pocket and threw it on the table. “I signed Tychee over to Victoria Penwith today. She’s of age. She can own a horse.”

  Connells looked at the documents then at both of them. “You two are insane.”

  Sims leaned forward. “This horse would not be the horse she is without Miss Penwith. She bred the horse, trained her, cared for her through the losses as well as the wins. She’s earned the right to race this horse under her own name.”

  “What stables though? The horse has to be associated with a stable.”

  “Mine,” John said.

  “Who will ride the horse? Townsend, your jockey isn’t able to race and neither is Penwith’s.”

  “I have a boy that will ride who’s not associated with either stables,” Sims said.

  “Who?”

  “My son.”

  Connells started laughing. “Well, I guess that answers all my questions except one. Does Miss Penwith know you are both here making sure she can race her horse this Saturday?”

  Townsend engaged a look with Sims. “Not yet. I didn’t see any point in getting her hopes up until we made sure the horse could race.”

  Connells nodded. “I can’t prevent the scandal, Townsend. She will still be hurt by this.”

  “I know, but with any luck she’ll take a new name and that won’t be an issue.”

  Connells laughed. “You are delusional, but I guess that’s what love does to a man.”

  “You should try it someday. I highly recommend it.”

  “Thank you, no. I’m very happy being a bachelor.”

  The men stood. John shook Connells’s hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “I will delay my report until I return to Newcastle. That should give you at least a few more days before the news hits. Hopefully, you’ll be able to convince Miss Penwith to marry you.”