by Georgie Lee
George guided Percy into step beside Manfred and the horses picked their way down the small hill. James kept the reins light, surprised by Manfred’s docile turn. The horse, unlike before, didn’t fight him, but responded fast and quick to the smallest tap of James’s foot or the pressure of his legs, answering to these subtle commands as though the two of them had been riding together for years. James smiled, thinking Julia’s acceptance of him had in some way secured Manfred’s acceptance, too.
They approached the gathering as a race ended and the men exchanged money while enjoying more ale.
‘Good morning, Rowan,’ George called out. Rowan nodded coolly at George, his sly eyes fixed on James.
‘What do you want?’ Rowan sneered.
‘To race, of course.’
Rowan’s lips curled at the sight of the ladies watching from the top of the hill. ‘This is a private race.’
‘Nonsense,’ George insisted. ‘It wouldn’t be November if you weren’t racing and the captain has a mind to wager some blunt.’
‘My poor old Darby is no match for Manfred.’ Rowan shrugged apologetically, but James was not about to be put off, especially with everyone now listening intently to their conversation.
‘This isn’t Manfred—this is Whizzer.’ James patted Manfred’s flank, trying not to laugh.
‘He looks exactly like Manfred.’
‘Manfred was a bit lame this morning. Didn’t see fit to bring him out. Whizzer here is an older horse and I think a suitable match for Darby.’ With a look, James dared Rowan to challenge him and reveal the truth, making it clear he knew Rowan’s game.
Rowan hesitated. Julia was right; he would not risk exposing James for fear of exposing himself, but James could tell he was forming another excuse and knew it was time to make his move. ‘I’ll wager five hundred pounds Whizzer can best Darby.’
Interest replaced the distrust on Rowan’s face. ‘You seem very confident in Whizzer.’
‘He’s the fastest old horse in the county. What do you say?’
Greed flickered in Rowan’s eyes and James knew he had him.
‘I accept your wager,’ he answered loudly so the others could hear. ‘Five hundred pounds says Darby can beat Whizzer.’
Sharp whistles and drunken shouts went up from the crowd and they rushed at Mark to place their bets.
‘Shall we?’ Rowan gestured to the starting line and James brought Manfred into place.
* * *
A horse whinnied from behind them and Julia turned to see Mrs Wilkins ride up next to her. She wore a tight-fitting habit of deep red. It highlighted her pale skin and emphasised her painted lips. ‘Miss Howard, I see you’re enjoying the races.’
Julia stuck her chin in the air, determined not to let this strumpet act like her better. ‘Any excitement is always welcome in the country.’
Mrs Wilkins squinted at the riders. ‘Is James about to race Rowan?’
‘Yes, and he will win.’
‘How sweet of you to root for him. One would almost think you cared for him.’
‘She and the captain are engaged,’ Annette volunteered.
Julia went stiff in the saddle, not sure how to react.
‘Engaged?’ Mrs Wilkins exclaimed in mock amazement, her wicked smile growing wider. ‘Oh, you poor dear. I was engaged to Captain Covington once, a long time ago, in Portsmouth. Marry him fast, Miss Howard. He isn’t the type of man to follow through on a promise.’ She clicked her horse into motion, guiding it down the hill to join the spectators.
Julia watched Mrs Wilkins go, her head spinning, her stomach tight. The captain and Mrs Wilkins? It couldn’t be true, could it?
‘Why did you tell her?’ She turned on Annette. ‘I had no intention of sharing such personal information with that woman.’
‘Better to tell someone like her yourself than let her hear it from others,’ Annette answered, the advice almost friendly. Was she trying to help her? It didn’t seem possible.
‘You know her?’
Annette shook her head. ‘I know of her. She has a terrible reputation in London. According to the on dit, a French count paid her bills when her husband couldn’t. No one in good society will have anything to do with her.’
Surely a woman with such a scandalous reputation was capable of lying about the past. The hostile meeting in Daringford came to mind, adding a sickening validity to Mrs Wilkins’s revelation. He had said he’d known her a long time ago. Could they have been set to marry? It scared her to think he might not honour the engagement, though she didn’t know why since she had no intention of marrying either. She thought of his kiss and the way he’d helped her down from Manfred. Had he held Mrs Wilkins like that once?
No, it doesn’t matter, she told herself, stamping down the jealousy. With the race about to begin, there were more important things to think about.
* * *
James held Manfred at the starting line, the beast tense and ready to run. He noticed Melinda on her horse making her way down from where Julia and Miss Taylor watched. Anger filled him and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and focus on winning. He would not lose in front of Melinda.
‘I can’t wait to give you a beating and knock down some of that chit’s pride,’ Rowan spat, his horse pawing at the ground.
James tightened his grip on the reins. ‘I hope you have the five hundred pounds to make good on your wager.’
‘Gentlemen, are ya ready?’ Mark stood between the horses, arms raised.
‘Don’t fail me, Manfred. Your mistress is counting on us both,’ he whispered and the horse’s ears twitched in response.
Mark dropped his arms and James dug his heels into Manfred’s sides. They shot out over the meadow, James crouched low over Manfred’s neck, the wind stinging his eyes. He didn’t try to control Manfred, but concentrated on moving with the horse, letting the animal guide them to a win. In a flash of brown, Rowan and Chester raced up beside them, the horses’ heavy breaths and pounding hooves drowning out the cheering men. Rowan nearly slammed Chester against Manfred, trying to drive them off course, but Manfred proved the more dominant animal. He bumped Chester’s flank, knocking James’s legs into Rowan’s with a thud.
‘Hell,’ Rowan cursed as Chester relented, falling behind enough for James to manoeuvre Manfred around the stump first and place a bit of distance between the racers. Under the crook of his arm, James watched Rowan slap Chester’s flanks with his crop, urging him faster and faster, but the gap was too wide and Manfred dashed across the finish line.
* * *
‘Well done!’ Julia shouted, her kidskin gloves muffling her exuberant claps.
The captain rose up in his saddle, saluting her before the men crowded around, cheering as money changed hands.
‘That’ll show the Wilkinses,’ Julia laughed, her excitement fading at the sight of Mrs Wilkins riding up next to the captain. They exchanged a few words, then James pulled Manfred’s reins to the right, trotting over to where Uncle George and Percy stood.
Watching them, Mrs Wilkins’s revelation sat like a dark shadow over Julia, dampening her enthusiasm. How could he have ever been involved with such a woman or had she once been respectable?
‘Do you know anything about Mrs Wilkins’s past?’ Julia asked and Annette shook her head.
‘No. I only know the rumours.’
Had Mrs Wilkins fallen from good society because of her involvement with the captain? Did the same fate await her?
‘We shouldn’t be here. It isn’t proper.’ Julia ignored the way Annette’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Without waiting for an answer, Julia turned Hector around and galloped back to Knollwood. She wanted to be alone, to think and settle the trouble gripping her heart. Surely there was another explanation. The captain didn’t seem like the sort of ma
n who ruined women and Uncle George would never have such a friend. Whatever the truth, she must make certain they played at nothing more than the pretend engagement. Her reputation would suffer enough when she jilted him. She did not need the additional scandal of being a fallen woman.
* * *
James walked with George back from the stables, a sense of unease nagging at him. Melinda’s sudden appearance combined with her happy salutations for their engagement made him suspicious. He knew from her malicious smile she’d told Julia of their engagement, probably portraying their relationship in the worst possible light. Who knew what lies she’d attached to it? He had to find Julia and undo any damage the vile woman had done.
Davies met them at the back door with a letter. ‘This arrived for you, Captain Covington.’
James took the note, not recognising the hand until he broke the seal and scanned the contents. Crumpling the letter, he stuffed it inside his coat pocket.
‘What’s wrong?’ George asked.
‘She wants to see me.’
‘Julia?’
‘Melinda. She wishes to discuss Rowan’s debt and the sale of Cable Grange.’
‘So you do still want it. Julia won’t take kindly to you purchasing it out from under her.’
James laced his fingers behind his back. ‘With Rowan in my debt, perhaps I can convince him to sell it to her. It’s more reliable than an auction. Please tell everyone I had business to attend to in Daringford. I’ll return as soon as I can.’
‘Let me come with you. I don’t trust Melinda or you with her.’
‘You think I’m so weak?’
‘I think you’re too angry. I thought you’d let go of the past, but I can see by your reaction to that letter that you haven’t. My guess is, neither has she.’
The past still stung, but it no longer dominated his mind. Nor did the future seem so vague or purposeless thanks to Julia. Her spirited laugh, hopeful eyes and honest manner helped him imagine a life filled with travel, family and friends, all of it with her by his side. He loved her and he wanted to capture her heart, make it burn for him as powerfully as it did for her beloved Knollwood. He could no longer deny it was the real reason he’d agreed to the engagement.
Fear tinged the revelation. He’d been deceived by a woman once before, but he couldn’t imagine Julia ever betraying him. She loved as strongly as she lived and would give herself completely to the man who captured her heart. He hoped by the end of next week he could make her his. If securing Cable Grange meant winning her, then he would buy it. ‘The past is done. It’s time to see to my future.’
* * *
James knocked on the heavy oak door of Cable Grange and waited, drawing his coat tight around his face to ward off the frosty night air. The sun had slipped below the horizon and although light still filled the western sky, the night’s first stars sparkled overhead. The scrape of wood across stone and the squeak of rusty hinges split the silence as Mark pulled open the door. The single candle in his brass holder flickered in the draught, shadowing his bloodshot eyes.
‘She’s waiting for you upstairs,’ he snarled.
James stepped inside, the dingy entrance hall no warmer than outside. Larger and more spacious than Knollwood’s, it echoed like an old cavern, the chandelier overhead thick with cobwebs. ‘Then lead the way.’
Without ceremony, Mark started up the staircase, the smoking tallow candle not doing much more than threatening to burn out. James peered down through the wavering shadows, trying to get a sense of the place. Dust covers sagged over the few scattered pieces of furniture and glaring clean spots on the dirty walls betrayed the paintings long since sold to pay bills.
At the top Mark turned, leading James down the dank hallway. The carpets were missing here, too, along with the furniture.
‘She’s in here.’ Mark stopped at the last door at the end of the hall. ‘You can find your own way out when she’s through with ya.’
‘I trust I can.’
Mark walked off, taking the light with him.
Without knocking, James pushed open the door, blinking against the sudden light. The house might be decaying around them, but no expense was spared to make Melinda comfortable. The room resembled a Cyprian’s palace with gilded chandeliers filled with candles. A grand four-poster bed hung with sumptuous draperies sat in the far corner of the room. At the other end a large fireplace blazed with a well-laid fire. Melinda reclined on a chaise before its heat, dressed in a mantua of red silk. A bottle of wine sat on the table in front of her, along with a small box of sweets. James could see half the contents of both had already been consumed.
‘I didn’t think you’d come.’ She ran her fingers across the back of a velvet pillow.
‘I almost didn’t. What do you want?’
‘Please sit down.’ She motioned to the sofa across from her. In the low light there was something of the woman he’d once loved, the faint echo of her girlish beauty, the tempting smile and inviting eyes that had captivated him in his youth. Back then he hadn’t recognised the worldliness in their shallow gleam, but it stood out now, repulsing him.
‘You said you had news.’ He sat on the edge of the cushion, eyeing the minx with caution. The elaborate scene felt like a gilded wire waiting to ensnare him.
‘I do. Wine?’
He shook his head. ‘Let’s have it out. I can’t stay here all night.’
‘Why?’ She leaned over the table to refill her glass, her mantua gaping open to reveal her breasts almost to the nipples. ‘You have no wife to go home to.’
‘But you have a husband.’
Disgust crossed her face before she hid it behind the wine glass, taking a long sip. ‘He’s in town trying to win enough money from your friend Mr Taylor to ward off the bailiff and you. I suspect Mr Taylor is as destitute as we are.’ She chuckled callously, lying back on the chaise like an Egyptian queen. ‘So you’re to be married to the Howard girl? She’s not woman enough for a man like you.’
‘What do you know of me?’ he demanded and she rose, sauntering forwards, the firelight silhouetting her round hips and curving body.
She sat down next to him, her eyes heavy, the sickeningly sweet smell of her perfume mixing with wine in the air between them. ‘You loved me once.’
‘I was too young to know the difference between love and lust.’ He leaned back against the arm of the sofa. ‘And if I remember correctly, I didn’t have enough money to suit your tastes.’
She shrugged off the accusation. ‘But you’re here now.’
‘Only to discuss the sale of Cable Grange.’
She smiled out of the corner of her hard eyes. ‘You plan to give it to your fiancée.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Everyone knows she wants it. Her father offered to buy it before he died. He hoped to leave it to her. I convinced Rowan not to do it. As much as I hate this tomb, I’d rather see the bailiff sell it than let that bitch have it.’
He was on his feet in an instant, staring down at her with a rage he fought hard to control. ‘We have nothing further to discuss.’ He stormed to the door, determined to leave her in the past once and for all.
‘I have an offer to make,’ Melinda called after him.
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn around. ‘I’m listening.’
She slid up to him, wrapping her hands around his shoulders and laying her head on his back. Her fingers played with the skin of his neck, working their way under his collar and down to his chest. He resisted the urge to flinch. ‘I’ll talk Rowan into selling you this crumbling pile of bricks if you spend the night with me.’
He whirled around, grabbing her wrists and pulling them from around his neck. ‘You overvalue any feelings I ever had for you.’
Her wine-heavy eyes flared and she snatche
d her arms from his grasp. ‘When did you ever care for me? You indulged your whim, then abandoned me?’
The accusation struck his sense of honour, increasing his anger. ‘You gave yourself with wild enthusiasm, then trampled over me to get to Rowan and his money.’
‘If you’d truly loved me, you’d have won me back, not left me to that drunkard. My life is a shambles, ruined, and it’s your fault.’
‘You have no one to blame but yourself.’ He reached for the doorknob, but she threw herself between him and the door.
‘If you go, I’ll tell the trollop you were here tonight.’
He leaned in close, waving a menacing finger inches from her nose. ‘You say anything and I’ll tell your husband you tried to seduce me.’
Fear flashed in her eyes. ‘He wouldn’t believe you.’
‘I have your letter. If he finds out I was here, he’ll toss you in the gutter where you belong.’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she whimpered like a spoiled child.
‘Not as long as you keep your mouth shut.’
He pushed her aside and strode into the hallway, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. At the top of the stairs, his hand found the banister and followed the dusty wood down into the empty hall. He pulled open the front door, wincing at the sharp scrape of wood on stone.
Not until he was free of the house and galloping back to Knollwood did he dare reflect on what had happened. Why had he answered her letter? He should have known it was all a ruse, but once again he’d allowed himself to be fooled by her. Now there was a new fear. She might twist tonight’s events to her own advantage and throw them in Julia’s face. What would Julia think of him then? Only the worst and all hope with her would be lost. No, there was little chance she and Melinda would meet and even if they did, Melinda had no proof of their meeting.
James brought Hector to a stop at the turn to Knollwood. If he continued straight, he’d reach the road to London and it was little over two hours’ steady riding to town. Melinda might hate Cable Grange, but Rowan had proved obstinate about selling it. Now, with his debt to James hanging over him, Rowan might be more desperate and willing to part with the estate. James could instruct his solicitor to make enquiries and to keep his identity secret since he doubted the Wilkinses would sell to him, no matter what their circumstances. It might all come to nothing. For all he knew, Rowan’s luck had changed and he’d won enough to halt the auctions. However, if the deed to Cable Grange meant securing Miss Howard’s affection, he was willing to try.
