Lyons Gate tb-9

by Catherine Coulter

  Jason, Hallie, and Angela didn’t arrive home until nearly three o’clock in the morning. Both Martha and Petrie were in the drawing room, Petrie, head thrown back on the back of the sofa, snoring, Martha huddled in a chair, one stockinged toe sticking out from beneath her gown.

  When they walked into the drawing room, Martha jerked up and yelled, “Tell us everything!”

  Petrie’s nostrils pinched as he jerked awake, and he nearly stumbled off his feet he jumped up so quickly. He was quick to wave his nanny’s finger at her. “Martha, a lady’s maid doesn’t demand gossip from her mistress. You will lower your head and inquire if Miss Hallie wishes to have you remove her stockings.”

  Angela said, “Goodness, Petrie, isn’t that rather indelicate of you? Martha, after you have assisted Hallie, do come to my bedchamber. I appear to have more buttons than fingers to do the task.”

  “I will, Miss Angela.” Martha whirled around on Petrie, hands on hips, “As for you, Mr. Stump-Chops, don’t you tell me what to do with Miss Hallie’s stockings. It pains Master Jason to hear such private matters spoken of in his drawing room.”

  “Actually, I believe Jason is standing in my half of the drawing room,” Hallie said.

  “But-”

  Jason raised his hand. “Be quiet, Petrie, let it go. No, no more from either of you. No, Martha, heel.” Jason turned to Hallie and Angela. “You see? I put a stop to the hilarity just as you asked.”

  “Hilarity?” Petrie said. “Hilarity is not at all the thing in a gentleman’s household.”

  “All we need,” Angela said, “is Cook to complete the picture.”

  “But, Master Jason,” Petrie began, knowing he had an important point if only he could find the ears to hear it.

  “No, Petrie. We’ll tell both of you everything in the morning. Everyone to bed now. Petrie, you’re with me.”

  “Martha,” Hallie said, “I will tell you all about Mr. Charles Grandison, who will probably be visiting us in not more than seven hours from now.”

  “What a lovely name,” Martha said. “Is he a gentleman wot-what-looks like his name like Master Jason does?”

  “Indeed. Master Jason said Charles Grandison was ruthless when it came to all the scoundrels and the corruption in the racing world. So much money involved, you see.”

  “We are going to be more ruthless, more feared even than Charles Grandison,” Jason said. “We will make anyone who tries to hurt our horses or cheat or threaten us, pay so great a price they’ll never try it again.”

  “And our reputation will spread.” She rubbed her hands together. “My father taught me how to bring a man to the ground with very little effort.”

  “Very little effort? Do I wish to know what you’re talking about?”

  “Well, it involves my knee, Jason. My father said a man couldn’t bear that sort of pain, whatever that means.”

  Jason and Petrie looked appalled.

  Martha said, “Well, more power to a lady’s knee, I say. Now, Miss Hallie, it’s very late. Time for me to see to you and Miss Angela.”

  Jason said, “I, as well, learned a lot with the Wyndhams in Baltimore. Americans can stand more pain, and they don’t whine as much, I found. Jessie asked me to exercise desperate measures on three occasions as I recall.”

  Hallie said, “What kind of desperate measures?”

  “A competitor bribed a stable lad to poison one of the Wyndham horses. I made him walk through downtown Baltimore -it wasn’t raining, as I recall-carrying the tub of the poisoned grain he would have fed Rialto. Every three steps he had to announce what he’d tried to do.”

  Hallie nodded in approval. “I heard from my father that you once sliced a jockey’s face with your whip when he was going to stick a knife in your horse’s neck.”

  “Nearly to the bone.”

  “My father also said you nabbed another jockey as he was coming out of Mrs. O’Toole’s tavern and beat the stuffing out of him for trying to shoot you off your horse in a race the week before.”

  Jason smiled at the memory, flexed his fingers without conscious thought. “I should have waited until he’d sobered up. It would have been more fun.”

  “Just so,” Hallie said. “No one will go against us more than once.”

  “Heavenly groats, Miss Hallie,” Martha was heard to whisper as she walked between her mistress and Miss Angela up the staircase, “this is so exciting. Do ye-you-think you’ll have to resort to some of these desperate measures Master Jason was talking about?”

  “It’s possible,” Hallie said, as serious as a nun wielding a three-pronged whip.

  “And yer-your-knee, Miss Hallie. I want to hear all about your knee.”

  “That thought would make the blood move swiftly through a man’s heart, wouldn’t it?” Angela said, as she lightly patted the very feminine white lace over her bosom.

  CHAPTER 27

  Charles Grandison said, “I want to buy Piccola. She’s magnificent. I’ll pay you very well for her, Jason.”

  “She’s not my mare to sell.”

  “Ah, so Miss Carrick is her owner. A lady enjoys having lovely things-”

  “I’ve noticed that gentlemen enjoy lovely things as well,” Hallie said, coming around the corner. She strode, Jason thought, like a boy with more arrogance than brains. What would Charles make of that? What would he say if he noticed her gown was really a pair of fat-legged trousers? Ah, and the shine on her boots.

  Hallie patted Piccola’s forehead while she nuzzled a carrot off Hallie’s palm. “She will win me many more races before she retires, my lord. Unfortunately, we have no horses for sale at this time. We’ve not been in business all that long.”

  Jason said, “James and Jessie Wyndham will be visiting in August. They’re bringing us stock they’ve selected themselves.”

  “Yes,” Hallie said. “Come see us in September.”

  “I will,” Charles said. “It will interest me to see what an American considers good breeding and racing stock. Ah, Miss Carrick, Lord Brinkley told me about the shine on your boots. Said his man Old Fudds still couldn’t get it just right.”

  “Practice,” Hallie said.

  “That is true of most things, I’ve found,” Charles said, and turned to Jason. “You’ve begun well, Jason.”

  “Thank you,” Hallie said.

  Charles Grandison laughed. “I would like to meet this misogynist butler who stole Elgin ’s hat and cane.”

  It was later, over Cook’s lovely tea and gingerbread that Hallie asked, “Lord Carlisle-”

  “Call me, Charles, please.”

  She smiled, inclined her head. “Have you and Lord Renfrew known each other long?”

  “ Elgin is horse mad,” Charles said. “He has asked me to assist him in buying quality horseflesh.”

  “It is an expensive undertaking,” Jason said, and chewed a raisin Cook had put in the gingerbread.

  “Oh, you don’t think Elgin has enough pounds in his pockets?”

  “I really don’t know,” Jason said. “Nor do I really care.”

  “I suppose you told Jason, Miss Carrick, that Lord Renfrew would very much like to marry you?”

  “No, I did not tell him that. Why would I?”

  “He is your partner, ma’am. Were you to wed Lord Renfrew, why then, it would be he who would deal with Jason here and your horses.”

  “I hadn’t realized that marriage went hand in hand with incompetence. Marriage would make me stupid, then?”

  “A lady as lovely as you are could be as stupid as a chamber pot and it wouldn’t matter.”

  Jason, in mid-drink, spewed the tea out of his mouth and began coughing. Hallie walked to him and smacked him hard on the back. He finally caught his breath. He grinned up at her. “Ah, thank you for the brute assistance.”

  “I have four young siblings. One is always prepared to do anything, including cauterizing a wound. Now, Lord Carlisle, about Lord Renfrew.”

  “Charles, please.”

 
Hallie picked up her teacup and saluted him, and yet again she inclined her head. “I don’t suppose Lord Renfrew asked you to come to Lyon ’s Gate to, er, soften me up a bit?”

  “I scarcely know the gentleman.”

  “You and he are of an age,” Hallie said.

  “Surely he is older.”

  “I don’t believe so, unless he lied to me. I believe Lord Renfrew is thirty-one years old.”

  “Hmm. Yes, Elgin lied. It is a nasty thing, a lie, but some feel compelled to do it, particularly when the young lady is of tender years.”

  “I’m no longer tender, sir.”

  A very handsome dark brow arched up. Charles looked toward Jason, then back at her. “You must take care, Miss Carrick, this young gentleman here is known for his prowess with the fair sex. Tender or no, it has never mattered. Why, stories are legend about-”

  “I’ve been gone five years, Charles. The legends are good and dead.”

  “But new ones are well begun in Baltimore,” Hallie said. “So many females running toward him in the rain, bumping umbrellas.”

  Charles burst out laughing. “Good God, I can picture that.”

  Hallie said, “I, myself, sir, saved Jason from a bevy of eager ladies at the ball last evening. Their strategy-a lovely narrow wedge headed by a very determined young lady-was excellent, but I was faster.”

  Jason rose. “All of this must be amusing to the two of you. I, however, have work to do, work that will make me sweaty and dirty and completely unappetizing to the fairer sex.”

  “Not Cook.”

  Lord Carlisle’s lovely eyebrow went up again. “Cook? What is this?”

  Hallie said, “Cook swoons whenever she sees Jason. He’s caught her twice now, one time she took him to the floor. When he is at the table, we eat very well indeed. If not, why, both Mrs. Tewksbury and I lose flesh.”

  Jason threw up his hands and walked out. Hallie, without pause, said, “It took me long enough to arouse him. Thank you for your assistance, sir. Now, you will tell me what is going on with Lord Renfrew. There is no reason for Jason to have to suffer through another recital of the man’s mental and moral failures. He told you our history, I presume?”

  Charles nodded slowly. “He told me he was foolish, that he didn’t realize the value of the precious jewel in his very hand.”

  “Surely you’re making that up. Elgin really said such an idiotic thing?”

  “Well, perhaps not. It’s difficult to know, Miss Carrick, whether to flatter, to soften, or to spit things right out into the open.”

  “Spit, please, sir.”

  “Only if you will call me Charles.”

  “No, I don’t know you well enough yet. Please don’t ask me until sometime next week, if, that is, you’re still in the neighborhood.”

  “You wound me, Miss Carrick.”

  “I doubt that. Like Jason, I have a lot of work to do.”

  Charles finished off his tea, sighed, and sat back in his chair, legs stretched in front of him. “ Elgin ’s father drank, his mother took lovers-he had a very difficult family-”

  “You will not make excuses for him. Elgin Sloane is a man, he must be held responsible for his actions. That he obviously believed me to have less mental aptitude than a cow-well, now, that’s a painful tonic to swallow. However, when I discovered the truth, I would have shot an arrow through his gullet if I’d had my bow with me.”

  “As I said, Miss Carrick,” Charles said, “ Elgin made some bad decisions, decisions he bitterly regrets. He has changed. He has grown into his years, although it has taken him longer to grow since he lied about his age.”

  “How old is Lord Renfrew?”

  “I know for a fact that he is thirty-three.”

  She laughed, simply couldn’t help herself. “Twenty-four months, he lied about twenty-four months. He believed that to an eighteen-year-old-girl head over boots in love, twenty-four months would make a difference?”

  “One never knows about females. My own wife was a mystery to me until the day she died. I see you are still feeling the pain of the blow he struck you.”

  “What blow was that?”

  “What he did isn’t all that dishonorable, Miss Carrick. Elgin desperately needed money to restore his uncle’s estates. The old man was a wastrel, unworthy of his lands and title. Elgin knew he would have to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

  “The ultimate sacrifice,” Hallie repeated slowly, savoring the words. “I had no idea I had achieved such status. That’s the only blow he told you about?”

  “Good grief, there’s another?”

  “Indeed. The thing is, Lord Renfrew was bedding another woman at the same time of our betrothal.”

  Charles winced. “I can see why he wouldn’t want to admit that to me. That does make him appear in a rather stupid light, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yes. Now, you can’t buy my mare and you can’t push Lord Renfrew’s suit. You’ve drunk your tea. Would you like to leave now, sir? Perhaps take Lord Renfrew’s hat and cane to him?”

  Charles slowly rose. “I knew that messengers were always kicked, yet still I came. That second blow, he didn’t tell me about that one. Next time I will know better.”

  “Lord Renfrew must have a hold on you, to actually convince you to come here. To be his emissary, that is certainly sinking oneself very low.”

  “Oh yes, certainly he has a lovely hold over me. If he didn’t, can you possibly imagine I would be here to push the nitwit’s suit with you?”

  She laughed, felt a tug of liking. “What is the hold he has on you?”

  “I don’t believe I’ll tell you that, Miss Carrick. May I call you Hallie?”

  “No. Perhaps next week. If there is a next week, which, given the company you keep, is highly unlikely. Jason and I are very busy. I do not like to have to spend time sipping tea when there are stalls to muck out.”

  “A lovely thought, that,” he said. He walked to her, his stride strong and graceful, making Hallie wonder just who Charles Grandison was. He collected her hand, turned it over and kissed her wrist. “Such soft skin,” he said.

  “If you lick me, I shall kick you out the front door.”

  He laughed. “Oh, no, I don’t lick a lady’s flesh, at least not in the drawing room, Miss Carrick. It has no finesse, only the value of shock. I dislike such artifice.”

  She wondered what he was thinking when he mounted the lovely gray Andalusian gelding held by Crispin, their youngest stable lad, all of thirteen, and watched him accept Lord Renfrew’s hat and cane from Petrie. She watched him ride the Andalusian through the open gates and down the drive. An excellent riding horse-proud, agile, calm. She wondered what his name was. She wondered what hold Lord Renfrew held over Charles Grandison.

  Hallie wanted to work her horses, she wanted to sweat, to perhaps sing a ditty. She didn’t want a man to make a fool of her ever again.

  Ten minutes later, she was walking quickly toward the stables. She could still hear Petrie and Martha arguing, hear Cook singing as she prepared Master Jason a Spanish frittata, and Angela humming as she sewed another divided skirt for Hallie.

  She whistled until she wasn’t more than twenty feet from the paddocks, and heard a scream.

  It was Delilah, and she was loose. So was Penelope, and both were in the paddock running after Dodger, who, with a tremendous jump, cleared the paddock fence to race off into the distance.

  “What the devil happened, Henry?”

  Jason came running around the corner, a hoof pick still in his right hand. He gathered what it was all about. “Bring me Charlemagne. He’s the only one fast enough to catch Dodger.”

  But Hallie was faster. “He’s my horse,” she said, slid the bridle into place, grabbed his mane, and pulled herself up. “I’ll fetch Dodger home, sir. You calm the mares.”

  Jason watched her ride that brute of hers bareback at a gallop. He watched Charlemagne take a fence in full stride. He shook his head and went to the paddock.

  “The
little missus sure can ride,” Henry said. “I ain’t niver seen a female ride like that ’un.”

  “It’s a pity Charlemagne’s bloodlines aren’t worth spit, else we could make a lot of money off him.”

  “Old feller’s an accident o’ blood, Master Jason, an’ that sometimes ’appens. He niver shoulda been so mean nor so fast.”

  Not five minutes later, Corrie and James rode up to the stable. “We saw Hallie riding like the wind. What’s going on?”

  “Dodger’s ladies were fighting over him. He escaped, and Hallie went after him.”

  James handed his brother Bad Boy’s reins. “You’d best make sure she doesn’t break her neck.”

  CHAPTER 28

  It was the fault of Major Philly’s cow, who was wandering free in her pasture, chewing placidly on the fresh summer grass as she stared after Dodger, who was still running faster than the wind. The cow was unaware that Charlemagne was running right at her, all his focus on Dodger, who was still a good thirty yards ahead of him.

  When the cow saw Charlemagne, eyes wild, head down, she mooed loudly in alarm.

  Charlemagne heard the moo but didn’t see the cow, but Hallie did. In a last-ditch effort to avert disaster, she threw herself against his neck, grabbed the reins close to his mouth, and jerked as hard as she could to her right.

  Charlemagne ripped the reins out of her hands, jumped straight into the air, slashed out at the cow with his hooves, missed, and sent Hallie hurtling over his head.

  Jason saw the whole thing. He was so frightened he cursed until he’d run out of both human and animal body parts. He leapt off Bad Boy’s back, dodged the cow’s butting head, and fell to his knees beside Hallie.

  She was pale except for two bloody scratches on her cheek. He felt for the pulse in her throat, couldn’t find it. “Don’t you dare be dead, damn you. I want Lyon ’s Gate, but not over your dead body. Open your eyes, you bloody female, now. You don’t wish to be the first buried here in this cow pasture, do you? There, I found your pulse. You’re alive, so stop pretending you’re not. Wake up, woman.”