“They want to go again and so do I,” Lillie said emphatically.
Swain laughed. “There’s more to driving than going fast. Bear off to the right when you come to the next fork.”
Lillie learned how to settle the team into an easy trot and, after a long series of practice turns, they were back on the straightaway and Swain nodded permission to open them up again. At the road’s end, she signaled for Lillie to slow them to a walk. The sleek bays resisted at first, pulling at their bits to be off again, but finally settled. Like the horses, Lillie wasn’t ready to stop.
“Your friend said he wouldn’t be back for three hours.”
Swain indicated her watch. “It’s already been two and a half. We need to take the last thirty minutes to cool them down. If we walk them back from here, we should hit the parking lot about the same time as Howard.”
Lillie relaxed back against the seat, suddenly aware that Swain hadn’t moved her arm even though she didn’t need to hold on. Only the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves against the hard-packed dirt filled the comfortable silence. A whisper of melancholy curled around her and she could feel Swain watching her.
“Why the sad look? Aren’t you having fun?”
“I’m having a fantastic time. I’m sorry now that I waited until Grandmum died before I visited here. I missed so many opportunities to share this with her.” If only Lillie had come sooner, Grandmum might still be alive. She looked up at Swain, whose blue eyes were dark with understanding. “But I’m glad I got to share it with you.”
“We all have regrets, Lillie, but you shouldn’t dwell on them,” Swain said, stroking Lillie’s back in a comforting gesture. “People make mistakes. You just have to take what you can learn from them and let them go. I’d never win a polo match if I didn’t.”
Lillie hoped Swain remembered that when Abigail’s secret was finally revealed.
Chapter Seventeen
“This is probably a stupid question, but are you hungry? We can just go home if you aren’t.”
“Starving.” Lillie eyed the odd house where Swain stopped the car. “Quaint.”
It featured a traditional Southern wraparound porch enclosed on one side with large windows. Reminiscent of French provincial architecture, the building’s second story was a square roof embedded with windows trimmed in hot pink. Lillie found it rather gaudy.
“Does it remind you of anything?” Swain pointed to a hand-painted sign by the entrance to the parking lot. Riley’s Whitby Bull was printed next to a lighthouse sporting pink stripes.
“Whitby? As in the seaside town of Whitby in North Yorkshire?”
“Yeah.”
“I went on holiday there several times with friends to see the regatta.”
“We have a rowing regatta near here a couple times a year.”
Lillie grinned. “My friends and I enjoyed the women rowers. They were notorious for the parties they threw after the boats were put away.”
Swain’s expression darkened. “Women rowers.” She growled the word like it was a bad taste in her mouth. “I’d have thought you’d be above that sort of thing.”
Her reaction amused Lillie. It sounded like she had some experience with the rowdy rowers, too. “We were first-year university students celebrating the end of the term. I can’t say that sort of thing still appeals to me.”
“I’d hope not,” Swain muttered, guiding them inside the restaurant.
An attractive young hostess greeted them. “Swain! I didn’t see you on the reservation list.” Ignoring Lillie, the hostess wrapped her arms around Swain in a tight hug. “I haven’t seen you all summer, hot stuff. I know you’re busy with polo and junk right now, but that’s no excuse for missing the June regatta.”
Swain looked embarrassed by the young woman’s enthusiastic greeting, but gave her a quick squeeze before stepping back and edging closer to Lillie. “I didn’t know you were working here. This is Lillie Wetherington. Lillie, this is Kendall Stevensen.”
Kendall’s smile dimmed a few kilowatts to a level more in keeping with her job. Her gaze moved over Lillie and settled on Swain’s hand discreetly resting against the small of Lillie’s back. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, her enthusiasm gone.
“Pleasure, I’m sure,” Lillie replied, with cool politeness. She offered her hand, but Kendall’s handshake was limp and brief. Her eyes narrowed at the sound of Lillie’s British accent. Lillie pressed ever so slightly against Swain’s side and met Kendall’s look with a challenging glare of her own. When she raised an eyebrow at Kendall’s boldness, the girl broke off her gaze and stepped over to her hostess podium.
“Our reservation is under Wetherington,” Swain said. “If I’d put it in my name, Lorraine might have seated us by the kitchen door.”
“I could still do that,” she said under her breath. She picked up a couple of menus and turned a businesslike smile their way. “Follow me, please.”
Despite her muttered threat, Kendall led them to a very lovely table beside a window. She watched Swain seat Lillie before settling in her own chair, then handed them the menus and offered the standard, “Enjoy your meal, ladies.”
Swain glanced up at her retreating figure.
“Rower?” Lillie scanned the menu as though she wasn’t really interested in the answer, but made sure her tone let Swain know she’d been caught with her hand in the same cookie jar.
Swain chuckled. “Yeah. Been there, done that. Like you, I found they party a little too hard for my tastes.”
Lillie laughed, too. She had resented Kendall’s intrusion into her outing with Swain, but was reassured by the fact that, when presented with another option, Swain had clearly chosen her.
She scanned the menu again, this time really reading the selection. “What? No fish-and-chips? Whitby is known for its fish-and-chips.”
Swain rolled her eyes. “I could have saved a lot of money if I knew you preferred some greasy fast food.”
Lillie lowered her menu. “This menu is rather pricey. After the wonderful time you’ve shown me today, you should let me pay for dinner to reciprocate.”
Swain bent forward, her voice low and playfully indignant. “And let Kendall spread the word that I’m a kept woman? No way!”
Lillie laughed. “No, I guess we couldn’t do that.”
They ordered the butterflied quail with cucumber sauce and the Minnesota elk steak with mushroom brandy sauce and ate slowly, sharing bites of food from each other’s plates while they talked. There had been enough earlier talk about wishes and regrets, so Lillie chose the only subject that could make Swain forget everything else.
“So, when’s the next polo match?”
“A tournament starts at New Bridge tomorrow and runs through Sunday. The Wetherington Raiders, our team, plays a match first thing. The semifinal match is on Saturday morning and the championship match on Sunday.”
“Will the horses be rested enough to play their best on Sunday?”
“Yeah. That’s why I ride every one of them at least every other day.”
“You’re not riding today. I hope I haven’t kept you from something you should be doing.”
“No, I always rest them the day before a tournament starts. So, I don’t have much to do but check the equipment after John and Rob pack it in the trailers. We’ll be up and gone very early tomorrow morning to give the horses time to settle at the field and us time to scope out our competition. It’s a long day, but you’re welcome to come along.”
Lillie frowned. “I’m afraid tomorrow is Mary’s first day. I’m sure I’ll need to spend time with her. Mr. Whitney is coming by in the afternoon to fill out the proper paperwork and tax forms for her employment.” She would much rather spend another day with Swain.
“It’s not a problem, Lillie. Like I said, it’s a really long day with four back-to-back matches. Sunday is the day you really want to go. It’s like a big social, not just horses running up and down the field.”
“I could go with you Saturda
y.”
“That would be okay, too. We have only two matches with a two-hour break in between, so the day isn’t so long.”
“What do people wear to polo matches?”
“Anything from shorts or jeans to linen suits, sundresses, and big hats. Sunday is the day people tend to dress up, though a lot of people don’t at all.”
“Ah. That explains all the hat boxes in Grandmum’s wardrobe.”
Swain laughed. “Yes. Abigail always wanted to look her best to accept the trophy.”
Lillie smiled. “You’re awfully smug. Are you that sure you’ll win?”
“No, not this tournament. With some teams up from Florida and down from the northern states, the competition will be tough, but I’m sure we’ll be in the final. We’ve got good riders and great ponies. Nor’easter has hit his stride this season. He’s better than any pony I’ve ever ridden. When I saddle him for the last chukker of the championship game, the other team better watch out.”
“It sounds exciting.”
Swain nodded emphatically, her blue eyes luminous. “Abigail loved all of it, the ponies and the pageantry. She hated the winter break between our fall and spring seasons here. So, she’d get restless and we’d load up the ponies and head to Florida for a tournament or two. That’s one reason I’m confident. We’ve played those teams and stacked up well against them.”
“Then I suppose I’d better start planning what to wear to accept the trophy.”
Swain pushed the remains of her dessert around the plate. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s better when you have someone to share it with. When Abigail was gone most of the past year, it wasn’t as much fun.”
Lillie took Swain’s hand. “I’m very glad I’m here, too.”
*
Beau was sitting by the front door of the main house and followed when Swain pulled the Mercedes into the garage. He greeted her briefly when she climbed out of the sports car, then ran to the other side to lavish his attention on Lillie.
Swain shook her head, but smiled. “Great. You’ve stolen my dog,”
“And a very handsome dog he is,” Lillie cooed, bending to hold Beau’s big head in her hands and look him in the eyes. His tail thumped against the car.
“He gets all the girls.”
“You’re very handsome, too,” Lillie said as she breezed past on her way into the house.
Swain had to grin at the compliment, no matter how lightly given.
Something seemed odd when they entered the house, but she brushed it away. Everything felt different when she was around Lillie.
Lillie went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Would you like something? I could open a bottle of wine.”
Swain was tempted. Her pulse quickened at the thought of sharing a glass of wine on the terrace in the gathering dusk. Being with Lillie made her feel alive. But putting herself in such a romantic setting would be quite a test. They had already done way too much hand-holding, food-sharing, and soul-baring over the past twelve hours. It was seriously threatening her resolve to keep their relationship on a friendship level. She was relieved that she had work to do.
“That sounds tempting, but I’m sure John’s still at the barn, waiting for me to check our preparations for tomorrow. I need to do that so he can go home.”
Swain usually loved the last-minute equipment checks because they fed her excitement, her anticipation of the coming match. But the disappointment on Lillie’s face made her regret her pressing responsibilities tonight.
She sighed and headed for the back door, slapping her hand against her thigh to summon Beau. She turned when he didn’t respond.
“Beau, let’s go,” she said sharply. But Beau had his nose to the floor, sniffing something they couldn’t detect. He whimpered and ran from the kitchen.
“Damn dog.” Swain threw up her hands and followed with Lillie close behind as Beau raced to the front of the house. He was sniffing the floor of the foyer furiously and bolted up the staircase just as she grabbed for his collar.
“Beau,” she shouted.
She started to follow him up the stairs, but a tug on her arm stopped her. Lillie’s face was pale and her hand on Swain’s arm was shaking.
“Don’t go. Call the police. Someone could be hiding up there.”
Swain suddenly realized what was amiss earlier. “The alarm wasn’t activated when we came in. Did you turn it on before we left?”
“Yes, I did.” Lillie’s voice trembled.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Swain said. “The cleaning crew came today. Maybe they forgot to engage it when they left. Beau loves the crew manager. He probably smells her scent from earlier today and thinks she’s still in the house somewhere.”
She didn’t want to add to Lillie’s fear, but this didn’t feel right to her either. She knew all the women on the crew. They had check lists so that they never forgot anything.
“If anybody besides us is in the house, Beau will find them first. Trust me. He can sound really fierce. No burglar would mess with him. We’ll go up there and probably find him sprawled in the middle of your bed, shedding hair on your sheets.”
“You need a weapon,” Lillie insisted. “Wait here.” She disappeared into the living room and returned with the fireplace poker. “Take this.”
Swain took the iron poker and held it in front of her like a sword. She squared her shoulders and deepened her voice. “Stay back, Miss Lillie. I’ll protect you.”
“Bloody idiot.” Lillie clutched the back of Swain’s shirt as she followed close behind.
At the top of the stairs, Beau emerged from Abigail’s bedroom, his nose still to the floor, and followed an invisible trail down the hall to the bedroom opposite Lillie’s room. The door was open, but he snuffled his way to the next door and the next, until he’d sniffed at each one. Then he stopped at Lillie’s room, growled softly, and followed his nose inside.
They stood in the doorway as Beau followed a trail over to the bed, then to the bathroom, before stopping at the closed closet door. He scratched at it.
Swain pulled her shirt free of Lillie’s hands. “You stay here. I’ll see what he’s after in the closet,” she whispered.
But Lillie grabbed her arm and held tight. “No. You should call the security company and have them look.”
“Lillie. You don’t know Beau like I do. It’s probably a mouse.”
“A mouse?” Lillie released Swain’s arm and stepped back.
Swain nodded. She’d stumbled onto something that would keep Lillie out of the way while she investigated. “He finds mice all the time at my place. The feed room is right under my bedroom.” She scrunched up her face for effect. “He eats them if he catches them. It’s disgusting. I don’t want you to see that.”
“I’ll wait here then.” From the look of revulsion on Lillie’s face, Swain was confident she would.
She crept silently toward the closet and took up a position to the right of the door, her back pressed against the wall. She held the poker in her left hand, raised high and ready to strike, while she closed her right hand carefully around the doorknob.
Beau growled again and stuck his nose to the crack between the carpet and the door’s bottom, snuffling loudly. She froze as he suddenly jerked back and barked sharply. He stuck his nose to the crack again and this time Swain saw it. A furry gray paw snaked out from under the door, swiping at the probing nose. Swain laughed in relief.
“Lillie,” she called. “It’s not a mouse. Come meet your cat burglar.”
When Lillie hesitantly peeked into the bedroom, Swain opened the closet door. A petite gray feline with green eyes calmly strolled out and threaded a path around Swain’s legs, rubbing her whiskers against Swain’s jeans. Beau watched her, his tail sweeping from side to side in a wide arc. When he lowered his head to push at the cat, she slapped playfully at his nose.
“Meet Gray Cat. She’s one of our best mousers in the barn. She’s never come up here before, but I guess she slipp
ed in when the cleaning crew was going in and out of the house. Someone must have accidentally shut her in the closet.”
Lillie sagged against the door frame in relief. Her hands still trembled as she rubbed them across her eyes. Beau walked over and pressed sympathetically against her legs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a wimp.”
Swain pulled her cell phone from her pocket and flipped it open. She hit a speed dial and listened for a moment. “John, hey. I’m up at the house. I’ll be a while longer, so why don’t you go on home. I’ll look things over before I go to bed, but I’m sure everything’s fine. You’ve been packing those trailers longer than I have. Okay. See you in the morning.”
She closed the phone and smiled at Lillie. “How about that glass of wine? I think we both could use one.”
Chapter Eighteen
They took the wine and settled into patio chairs on the terrace. In the dark hour between dusk and twilight, the only illumination came from the lights in the swimming pool. Beau lay at their feet, but Gray Cat scampered back to the barn.
“What was it like, growing up in England?” Swain asked, hoping to move Lillie’s thoughts to more pleasant things.
“Not much different from growing up in a city here, I suppose. I went to a private school every day, watched the telly at night. Mum took me to Dad’s concerts when they were in London. He would let me play in his dressing room until close to curtain call. He laughed when I told him once that I wanted to wear a tuxedo like his. ‘But you look so beautiful in your pink ruffles,’ he said. After he played his last piece, people would stand and applaud for a long time. They would throw flowers onto the stage, and he always picked up two red roses and tossed one to Mum and one to me.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“It was, when he was home. His concerts were frequently in other cities. We traveled with him until I was old enough to go to school, then Mum had to stay with me. He finally gave up the concert tour and took a teaching position at the university so he could be at home, too. I remember sitting at the dinner table and listening to him go on and on about a talented new student. I often wished it was me that he bragged about.”
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