by Mary Nichols
‘Then you are ill.’ Richard was beset by feelings of guilt. ‘I am sorry to hear that, Father.’
‘You’ll be even sorrier if I stick my spoon in the wall before I can change my will.’
‘Change it?’
His lordship favoured his son with a wry grin. ‘When you ran off to war, I disowned you, made a will in favour of William; thought you knew that...’
‘You threatened it. I didn’t know you had done it.’
‘Don’t threaten what I don’t mean to do,’ he asserted. `I was angry and too hasty, perhaps, but I shan’t reverse it unless you come up to the mark.’
‘You must do as you wish, of course,’ Richard said stiffly.
‘I wish to be succeeded by my son and his sons, that’s what I wish. I have told William so.’
‘He must have been very disappointed,’ Richard said pithily. No wonder William was so constantly at Dullingham House!
‘No doubt, but I would rather he were disappointed than I.’ His lordship’s voice softened and he reached out a thin veined hand to touch Richard’s sleeve. ‘It’s up to you.’
The fact that his father was employing a not so subtle blackmail did little to make Richard feel any better. He had been a poor sort of son and if his lordship was really ill, perhaps dying, it behoved him to make amends...
There was no time for further discussion, for Heacham came to say that Captain Melford had arrived. ‘He says he won’t come in,’ the servant said. ‘He is mounted and is leading two park hacks with ladies’ saddles.’
‘It seems I did you an injustice, m’boy,’ his lordship said, grinning at his son. Who is she?’
‘Sir Henry Paget’s daughter.’
‘That so? I liked old Henry, you could do worse, though I hope it isn’t the elder. I’ve heard she’s become a sad case. Tries to play the man. Can’t have you leg-shackled to a horse-face.’
Richard smiled, thinking of Miss Georgiana Paget. Whatever she was, it was certainly not horse-faced. In her own way she was stunningly beautiful; she had character and fire, but she was also maddeningly independent. Anyone foolish enough to marry her, even if he could break down the barrier she had put up around herself, would undoubtedly have a daily battle on his hands. On the other hand, his father would definitely approve of Miss Felicity Paget, and what more could a man ask for in a wife? Sweet and kind and biddable, wasn’t that what Georgiana had said? After nine years of war he was tired of fighting; he would settle for biddable. ‘No, sir, she is chaperon to her sister.’
‘Then be off with you. You mustn’t keep the ladies waiting.’
Richard, feeling himself sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire of his own making, took his leave and, fetching Pegasus from the stable, joined his friend, taking one of the park hacks in hand, to call on the Misses Paget.
Chapter Four
Both ladies were ready when the young men arrived; Felicity wore a burgundy riding jacket, frogged in silver, and a riding hat whose sweeping feather brushed her cheek, and Georgie was in ruby red, frogged and braided. A high-crowned beaver hat with a stiff brim around which a gossamer scarf had been tied was perched on her auburn curls.
Georgie half expected some comment about the side saddle as Richard threw her up, but he had evidently decided that antagonising the chaperon was not a way to win the lady and remained silent. In fact, he seemed a little vague, as if he had something else on his mind, which was hardly flattering, but as Felicity and Mr Melford seemed to have no difficulty in maintaining the conversation it hardly mattered and by the time they turned in at the gate of the park he had recovered sufficiently to make an effort at small talk.
Georgie longed to let her horse gallop, but, deciding that was hardly the behaviour to be expected of a chaperon, rode sedately beside her sister, who had the gentlemen vying for position on the other side of her. Surprisingly, John seemed to win that particular manoeuvre and Georgie found herself with Richard on her other side.
‘How do you find Pegasus, Major?’ she asked, looking at the stallion a little wistfully.
Richard leaned forward to pat the grey’s neck. ‘Oh, we are dealing together very well, aren’t we, Peg, old fellow?’
‘Why did you bring him to London?’
‘Why not? I wished to test his stamina.’
‘I hope that does not mean you rode him hard all the way. I should not have let you have him if I thought you would do that.’
‘I am not flattered that you think me such a mopstraw as to ruin a good horse, Miss Paget. I am no Dick Turpin.’
‘Dick Turpin?’
‘He was a high toby of a hundred years ago; have you not heard of him?’
`Of course I have. He was supposed to have ridden from London to York in a day, or a night - I forget which. It’s all a hum, of course; it can’t be done.’
‘You don’t thinks so.’
‘Not on a single horse; I believe it is all of two hundred miles.’
‘Yes, but supposing you had any number of horses?’ He was smiling, as if he had discovered some secret he was half inclined to share with her.
‘How many?’
‘I don’t know, twenty, shall we say?’
‘That’s one every ten miles. You can’t gallop a horse for ten miles, Major, not without ruining it.’
‘More, then. Shall we say thirty?’
‘You may say what you please; it is purely conjecture.’
‘I think I should like to put it to the test,’ he said slowly, as an idea began to form in his mind which excited him. ‘Yes, I think that might serve.’
‘Major, I am persuaded you are bamming me. Even if you had a hundred horses, you would still need to be in the saddle twelve hours at least.’
‘Nine.’
She turned her head to survey him from beneath the brim of her hat, but he was looking straight ahead with a faint smile on his lips. ‘Why nine?’
‘Supper in London, breakfast in York.’
‘It can’t be done.’
He turned towards her, smiling. ‘Now, would you care to put money on that, Miss Paget?’
‘Certainly not!’ she said. ‘I never gamble. And I am surprised at you. I had thought you a man of sense. I wish now I had not sold Pegasus to you, if that is the kind of thing you do.’
He laughed and turned back to John who was riding just behind him. ‘Would you back me, John?’
‘Oh, yes, old fellow, every time,’ his friend said complacently.
‘You cannot have heard our conversation, Captain, and do not even know what Major Baverstock has proposed,’ Georgie said sharply.
‘What? Has he proposed?’ Felicity asked, coming up a little behind John. ‘Am I to offer felicitations, then?’
‘No!’ Georgie’s retort was sharp and all three looked at her in surprise. ‘No, of course not; you mistake my meaning, my dear. Major Baverstock was proposing a wager, not...’ She stopped, embarrassed.
‘A wager? Oh, forgive me. How silly of me. To think... Oh, dear.’ She was clearly mortified.
Georgie came to the rescue, as much to save herself as her sister. ‘The Major was saying he can ride from London to York without stopping,’ she said.
‘In nine hours,’ Richard added.
‘We’ve had some pretty long spells in the saddle in the last few years,’ John said. ‘And in the heat of a Spanish summer, but never that far. No mount would stand up to it.’
‘I wasn’t intending to do it with a single horse,’ Richard told him. ‘Thirty horses, posted along the way. It would be an endurance test for the man more than the animals.’
‘Then I suppose it could be done, but I’ll tell you I wouldn’t attempt it.’
‘It’s all gammon,’ Georgie said. ‘And all because I said I wondered at him bringing Pegasus to London. It would have been quicker by coach.’
‘But nothing like as enjoyable and I would not have had a mount while I was here.’
‘I doubt Pegasus finds parading in the park to h
is liking, Major. I am sure he would rather gallop.’
He grinned. ‘Would you?’
There was a wide expanse of green sward ahead of them where a herd of cows usually grazed, but they had congregated to one small area near the Bath Gate and were showing not the least interest in the riders. She turned to look at Felicity and John who had resumed their place a little behind them and were deep in conversation. Dared she leave them, just for a few minutes? It wasn’t as if they would go out of sight...
‘Race you to that big oak,’ she cried and, without waiting for him to reply, dug her heel into her hack’s flank and set off across the grass.
It was only a couple of hundred yards and her mount was not Warrior or anything like him and riding side saddle was uncomfortable at speed, but it was good to feel the horse respond and for a little while she forgot she was supposed to be a staid chaperon, forgot that it was not done for a lady to gallop, forgot that the man who soon came up alongside her disapproved of such hoydenish behaviour. She was in her element on a horse’s back.
They reached the tree together and pulled up, laughing.
‘You cheated,’ he said. ‘Setting off ahead of me like that.’
‘It is strange how some people cannot stand to be beaten,’ said a languid voice. ‘They must forever accuse the victor of cheating.’
Georgie turned in astonishment to find a horseman she had barely noticed before sitting on his mount under the tree watching them. It was Lord Barbour, mounted on a beautiful chestnut.
Richard, who had become aware of the other man’s identity at precisely the moment Georgie had issued her challenge, had been obliged to follow her, but that did not mean he had to listen to insults. ‘I do not recall Miss Paget speaking to you, sir,’ he said.
‘Only because she did not see me.’ His lordship turned to Georgie, smiling confidently. ‘Is that not so, Miss Paget?’
‘Why, yes,’ she said, bewildered by the hostility between the two men; it fairly crackled. ‘Do you know each other? Oh, but of course you do; Major Baverstock told me so only yesterday.’
‘Did he now?’ His lordship appeared amused. ‘Did he also tell you in what connection we came to know each other?’
‘No, but I recall him saying you had bought his hunter.’
His lordship laughed. ‘Bought it, did I? Well, he would say that. But I should beware of striking bargains with him, Miss Paget. He will renege, to be sure.’
Richard’s face was a picture of fury and Georgie thought for one dreadful minute that he would strike the man with his crop, but he seemed to make a monumental effort to hold himself in check and the raised hand dropped to his side. ‘If there were not ladies present...’
‘I see you have bought a new mount,’ Lord Barbour went on, looking at Pegasus with a keen eye. ‘Not bad, but not up to Victor, is he?’ He leaned forward and ruffled the chestnut’s ear. ‘Thought you wanted him back.’
‘And I will have him, too.’
‘Then all you have to do is name the time and place.’
Georgie looked from one to the other, thoroughly perplexed, but they were interrupted as John and Felicity rode up.
‘Oh, good morning, my lord,’ Felicity greeted him. ‘So, you found us, then. I thought that you might. Shall you ride back with us?’
There was a malicious gleam in Lord Barbour’s eye, as if he was tempted to accept, but one glance at Richard told him not to push his luck. He made his excuses, doffing his tall riding hat to the ladies and reminding Georgie that she had promised to ride with him the next day and that he would call for her, and then he cantered away, leaving the four young people to ride back to Holles Street in almost complete silence.
The incident had put a damper on the outing and as soon as they had paid their respects to Mrs Bertram the young men rode away, taking the hacks with them.
‘Did you tell Lord Barbour where we were to be found?’ Georgie turned on her sister as soon as they were alone.
‘No, indeed I did not. But I don’t see why you are so up in the boughs over it.’
‘I am not, but it was plain as a pikestaff there is no love lost between his lordship and the Major.’
‘Captain Melford said it had something to do with a wager. The Major lost his hunter...’
‘Victor?’ It was extraordinary how disappointed in Richard Baverstock Georgie felt over that. She knew young gentlemen gambled on almost anything and thought nothing of it, but to put up a horse as special as Victor was nothing short of criminal. For the second time she wished she had not sold Pegasus to him.
‘As to that, I don’t know,’ Felicity said. ‘You’ll have to ask Lord Barbour tomorrow.’
His lordship duly arrived the following morning, riding Victor and leading a beautiful Arab mare for Georgie to ride. ‘She’s yours whenever you ride with me,’ he said, smiling because she could not hide her pleasure. ‘And I would wish it to be every day.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said as Tom Dawson, who was to ride discreetly behind them, held out his hands for her to mount. ‘But I am sure you have other demands on your time than riding in the park with me.’
‘None which gives me greater pleasure.’
He was behaving perfectly properly and there was nothing in his behaviour to give offence, but she could not like him. She could not say exactly why. Perhaps it was his smile, which she could only describe as oily, perhaps it was his eyes, small, pale and watchful, or perhaps it was the way he jerked on the reins when the spirited horse shied away from the traffic. Once they were in the park, the stallion seemed a little easier, but Georgie didn’t think he liked his rider any better than she did.
‘You have only just acquired Victor, I believe,’ she said.
‘Yes, from that young rake, Baverstock.’
‘As the result of a wager, I am told.’
He gave a snort of a laugh. ‘Yes, and not even his. He was standing buff for that young pup of a friend of his who played too deep.’
‘Captain Melford?’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t know if she admired the Major more or less because of this; that he had stood by his friend was certainly in his favour, but the horse had still been gambled away. ‘Why don’t you like Major Baverstock, my lord?’
‘Did I say I did not like him? I do not like a bad loser calling me a cheat, that is what I do not like.’ He sighed and smiled across at her. ‘But let us not talk of him. What do you think of Silver Moon?’
She could understand the Major not liking to part with his stallion but it was his own fault for gambling. Even so, she could not imagine him being a bad loser. Calling someone a cheat usually meant that you had to substantiate your accusation or be called out. She remembered his lordship saying ‘name the time and place’; did that mean there was to be a duel? It would be a most uneven match, unless his lordship had hidden talents. She looked across at him; he was smiling at her with that hard mouth of his, waiting for her answer. She reached forward and fondled the ears of the Arab. ‘Is that her name? She is beautiful.’
‘Her dam was one of Sir Henry’s.’
‘Then she is bound to be good.’
‘She could be yours.’
Startled, she looked at him. ‘My lord?’
‘As a gift.’
‘My lord, I have horses in plenty at Rowan Park.’
‘But for how long? You cannot continue to run the stables yourself, can you?’
‘I do not see why not.’
‘Oh, I see,’ he said, his smile widening. ‘You have had no offers.’
His assumption annoyed her. ‘Do you mean for me or for the business?’ she asked mischievously.
‘Why, my dear,’ he said, with an attempt at gallantry which set her teeth on edge but which she acknowledged she had asked for, ‘I have no doubt someone as comely as you has had offers a-plenty, but I meant for the stud-farm.’
‘Some, but I have refused them all.’
‘Why? Because the offers were to
o low or because the horses are your dowry?’
‘Because they are my life, my lord. I wish for no other.’
‘Come, come, that cannot be. Every young lady wishes to marry, but in your case you should choose carefully. You need someone who understands horses, who will improve the stock with his own, someone who will allow you a certain amount of liberty...’
She looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Yours is a free spirit, Miss Paget; it should not be caged in a drawing-room. I understand that.’
‘My lord, I do not think you do,’ she said. ‘I am as good a horse-breeder as you will find anywhere and neither Rowan Park nor the horses are for sale.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘Nor, indeed, am I.’ And with that she urged Silver Moon into a canter to put an end to the conversation. He followed and a few minutes later they turned to go back without another word being said.
She did not like him any better at the end of the outing than she had at the beginning, but her aunt, when she recounted the conversation to her, urged her to give him time. ‘What he said makes a great deal of sense,’ she pointed out. ‘The stud-farm is all you have to offer and do not forget it has to provide Felicity’s portion as well as yours. A union of his stables with yours might be just the answer. His stock is good, I believe, and with his name the business would soon pick up. I will invite him to my ball and you can stand up with him. Perhaps in a different setting, with music and fine food, he will reveal himself as a man of sensibility.’
‘I doubt it,’ Georgie said.
‘Nevertheless we must make sure you look your best; we can’t have him thinking he is offering for a dowd.’
‘I thought it was Felicity we were concerned with, not me.’
‘Both, my dear, but I am persuaded your sister has already found a match. All we have to do is bring him to the mark.’
‘Major Baverstock, you mean.’
‘Of course I mean the Major, who else could it be? Now we must make plans...’
This constant talk of offers and dowries, husbands and lovers, gowns and jewels was more than Georgie could stomach and she was more determined than ever to return to Rowan Park at the end of the week. It would mean missing her aunt’s ball and that would cause a great argument, but she truly could not stand a whole evening in Lord Barbour’s company. But before she could go there were several social functions to attend and, for Felicity’s sake, she was determined to enjoy them and forward her sister’s interest with the Major.
