Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3)

by Jan Jones

  His voice came closer. “Caroline, please forgive me. I did not mean my words to sound the way they did.”

  “It is of no consequence. It is only what I might have said myself.” Do please go away. I have no wish for you to see me with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  “Listen. Please listen. I must explain what was behind my most ill-considered remark. My sister Lizzy was courted for her money. She had her head turned and was persuaded to think herself in love with a penniless wastrel. I only meant that you might find yourself in the same position. I intended no slur. Would you like my handkerchief?”

  Caroline held out her hand blindly. “Thank you.” She dipped the linen in the horse trough and pressed it to her burning face before blowing her nose thoroughly. “You may be easy, my lord, I am not likely to imagine myself in love on the strength of a few pretty phrases.” No indeed, two kisses and an unconscious caress had done the job nicely. There had been no necessity for words at all.

  Rufus blew on her hair and ambled away to graze, appearing to think his task was over. Traitor.

  “Not even if they were in praise of your horse?” Alexander’s voice was very near now. “Fortune hunters are deuced clever.”

  Caroline laughed shakily. “Ah, there I confess I might be more easily swayed.” She glanced at him, very quickly and sideways in case there was any pity in his eyes. “But as I have no fortune, it hardly matters. Would you like to see Solange, now you are up here?”

  “Certainly. I would be most interested to... Good God, you have put her in with other horses.”

  He stumbled as he took an incautious step. Caroline was there in an instant to take his weight on her arm. “Fool man, you should not have followed me. You are by no means steady enough. Here, girl.” She held out her free hand to Solange.

  She felt Alexander move to stop her. “You are mad. She’ll have your fingers off before you can... Well, stap me.”

  Caroline felt only slight conceit as the grey mare nuzzled her palm. “I did say she was progressing, if you remember. But you need not stroke her if you think she may yet hold you in dislike.”

  “I am astonished,” he said frankly, but she was glad to see he extended his hand to Solange’s neck as readily as she had herself. “And also pleased. She bolted with me for no reason. I had thought she would have to be destroyed.”

  “Bolted? Yet you sent her to my brother for a bet?”

  He reddened. “We were neither of us ourselves that night. How has this transformation been achieved?”

  Hmph. If he thought she was going to give their secrets away, he was far and away out. “At Penfold Lodge we work with the animals, not against them. Tell me, has she ever been bred from?”

  “How the devil would I know?”

  Caroline stared. “Because she is your horse.”

  “I had her from Giles. Ask him.”

  Caroline stood perfectly still. Solange had previously belonged to Giles d’Arblay who, for some reason, bore no love for her brother. And the wager had been urged on them by ‘one of Lord Rothwell’s friends’. Was it possible Giles had effected the bet? To strip Harry of a thousand pounds? But that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

  “No matter,” she said. “Some mares’ natures become less challenging once they have foaled, that is all.”

  “And some mares bite their offsprings’ heads off.”

  Caroline laughed. “Not she. And I do think she is interested in Rufus.”

  “Good God, are you petitioning for a stud fee? You are the most unnatural young lady I have ever met. I daresay you could recite your precious chestnut’s bloodlines too.”

  “I could. And I am not that unnatural, for Lady Penfold was quite as knowledgeable as I am.”

  He smiled down at her, making her bones behave oddly. “Trust me, you are unique. And now I will complete your satisfaction by admitting you to be entirely in the right about my strength and ask you to very nobly help me back to the house.”

  Caroline masked the quiver that ran through her. “You should not have come out in the first place. There was no need.”

  “I beg your pardon, but there was every need. And while I am in a conciliatory humour, I will admit that you may also be right about the ability of some ladies to manage their own affairs. I shall have to think about that. But now I own I should like to rest.”

  If she were of a romantic disposition, she would treasure this, thought Caroline, as they traversed the path back to the house together. As it was she was too concerned with the pallor of his face to enjoy the feel of his forearm along hers. She was too worried about the shallowness of his breath to appreciate its warmth stirring her hair. Or so she told herself. “I will call your valet to attend you,” she said, once she had helped him to the wing chair in his room.

  “Wait,” he said, his hand reaching to hold hers for an instant. “I was cavalier, thoughtless and dogmatic earlier on. Thank you for being so generous.”

  “I daresay I shall think of a boon to offset it,” she said lightly, and disengaged her fingers. His touch was dangerous.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As soon as Caroline left the room, Alex rose and moved to the window. He was a little ashamed at having deceived her, but it would excuse his remaining longer at Penfold Lodge if he were thought not as fit as he actually was. For a moment, his legs seemed disinclined to obey him, but he put the trifling annoyance aside as he saw Caroline - as he had expected - return to the stable block. He leant against the window frame watching her wide, knowledgeable gestures as she conversed with her brother and the head groom.

  Women managing their own affairs... Yes, he could see her running a small household: weighing up whether she could afford a parlour maid, knowing when the butcher was robbing her. But why would she want to do that on a slender income when she could have the same freedom inside a marriage? A husband would expect his wife to order all the daily business of a house. It was the way of the world. Men paid and women arranged. Where was the difference?

  Would you wish to be shackled for life to someone you dislike?

  It was as if she had spoken inside the room. With a jolt, Alex bethought himself of the other things that a man expected from his wife. And he thought of some of the gentlemen of his acquaintance. And he looked again at Caroline.

  His ruminations were cut short by the entry of his valet, fussily horrified at the state of milord’s boots and milord’s coat and milord’s neckcloth.

  It was fortunate the man couldn’t see the state of milord’s handkerchief. Sobered, Alex allowed himself to be steered back to the chair by the fire, remembering Caroline’s stiff, upright back against the warm chestnut of the horse and the way she had resolutely worked through her chagrin. She was younger than his sister (only in years, as Harry Fortune would say), but what a difference in temperament. All the difference between an indulged youngest child and the plain one in the middle of a string.

  Except that she wasn’t so very plain when she knew what she was talking about. There was quite a challenging sparkle in those honey-brown eyes. And when she laughed she wasn’t plain at all. And as for her voice - here Alex discovered with mild surprise that his valet had got him out of his coat and both boots without him noticing - Caroline Fortune’s voice was simply beautiful.

  Alex suspected it was no accident that his mother’s call later that morning coincided with that of the doctor. Caroline’s guileless face confirmed it. He was pleased to see she had changed out of her dusty gown into a clean one which became her better. He was not pleased when his offer to accompany her and his mother to the paddocks was vetoed. From the window he watched their progress with deep misgiving.

  It was ridiculous. He was twenty-nine years old, he was the master of his own estate, he would soon be a member of Parliament, God-willing, and it did not make a jot of difference whether Mama found out he was still having nightmares or not. All the same, it did ease his mind that they appeared to be laughing. Caroline had evidently fallen under his
mother’s spell and was still chuckling when they returned, attended by her equally charmed brother, ready to partake of a nuncheon before Harry went up to the Heath for the last day of the week’s races. Fortune pulled out a chair for her grace to sit on, Alex did the same for Caroline. She met his eyes with a startled thank you.

  “My pleasure,” he said uncomfortably. Had he been that graceless recently? “I hope my mother has not been bullying you into divulging any racing tips?”

  “No indeed,” said Caroline. She gave a mischievous smile. “I have been far too well employed hearing all your shameful boyhood anecdotes for that.”

  He raised his eyebrows, ready to be amused. “Surely not. I have always been led to believe I was a model child.”

  “Model children generally slide down banister rails directly into the arms of Royal Princesses, do they?”

  “Ah, well, that was not my fault. Giles bet me we could not get down the Grand Staircase and back up again between the time the carriage stopped outside and the time the visitors entered the house.”

  She twinkled at him. “And what of the occasion when your cook’s famous orange syllabubs disappeared en route from the kitchen to a very important dinner?”

  “An error of judgement on the part of my parents. They should have included us children amongst the dinner guests.”

  After Mrs Penfold had discoursed in her turn about her late son’s propensity for falling out of apple trees when scrumping (Alex was getting just a little tired of Bertrand’s exploits) and Harry recalled how his mother’s prize Grecian statue was found to be cradling a maid’s feather duster in a most inappropriate manner one memorable Twelfth Night, the duchess cleared her throat.

  “Well now, Alex,” she said. “Have you any messages for Lizzy when I go on to her tomorrow?”

  Caroline spluttered over her wine. Alex glanced at her curiously before saying, “Only my love, as always, and my commiserations to her husband. I daresay they will be far more appreciative of your maternal concern than I.”

  “I don’t suppose they will for an instant,” said his mama candidly, “and I would have you know that I am not completely happy about you either. It is only knowing I am leaving you in Miss Caro’s capable hands that enables me to travel on with equanimity at all. But I find I have perfect faith in her ability to curb any tendencies you may develop in the next sennight as regards night-time strolls alongside bands of dangerous ruffians.”

  Caroline was staring at her grace with dismay. “But ma’am, surely I heard you agree with Dr Peck that his lordship would benefit of all things from a stay in the bosom of his family?”

  “The doctor is a good man, my dear, but I assure you if I were to take Alex with me to visit Lizzy, we should have at least two murders on our hands before the week was out. I will collect him on my way back through. His father was expressing the sentiment only yesterday that he had quite forgot what our second son looked like. And I may say, Alex, that I have had words with Lady Jersey. I was surprised to find her at Cheveley rather than in Town, though it seems she has been flitting back and forth. Such nonsense that woman does talk.”

  Mama always did this. Made ambiguous pronouncements in public so it was impossible to argue. In order to answer at all, Alex had to pick his way through a bog of double meanings. “I shall, of course, be delighted to visit you and Papa, but I believe I will do it in my own good time. And I consider it very kind in Sally Jersey to call as soon as she knew I was laid up. She did not tire me at all.” He turned to his hostess with a smile borrowed from Giles at his most charming. “Mrs Penfold, it appears my mother and the doctor between them insist on my trespassing a while longer on your hospitality. I can only apologise for the imposition, and trust I may not disturb your household arrangements too much.”

  “Another week entire! Harry, that means he will be here when we take Solange to the Heath to practise.”

  Harry shrugged. “Just because he was up betimes this morning, does not mean he will always be. You are usually out and back by cock’s-crow anyway.”

  Caroline felt herself seethe with frustration. “Exactly. What if he takes it upon himself to have nightmares when I am on the training ground? And how are we to accustom Solange to a male rider with him watching every move?”

  “We use the far paddock.”

  “Oh yes, the one backing on to our father’s land.”

  “Don’t fuss, Caro. I need get up to the Heath now. Daresay you’ll have thought of the solution before I get back.”

  I must not scream at my brother. I must NOT scream at my brother. Caroline repeated this several times to herself as she watched Harry leave the house with a jaunty, unconcerned step. Alexander and his mother were conversing privately in his room so - remembering his taunt that morning - she fetched her ledgers and sat in the parlour with Mrs Penfold to write her weekly report to her cousin.

  “I declare,” said her grace, sweeping in not long after, “there is no dealing with you in this mood, Alex. I only said I must see what I could do, not that I would make any such arrangements. Do you go and bother poor Miss Caro, whilst I have a comfortable coze with Mrs Penfold.”

  “You had best not bother me,” warned Caroline, as Alexander joined her at the table. “If I have to start sanding out errors, I will not vouch for the evenness of my temper. You had much better play cribbage against yourself instead. The board is in the drawer.”

  “I could read out the figures for you.”

  “Only if you want your recuperative period extended by my breaking this ledger over your head.”

  His lips twitched. “Now I come to think of it, cribbage is an excellent way of passing the time.”

  “I am glad we are in accord, my lord.”

  He became absorbed in his game straight away. Caroline, perversely, found it difficult to settle to the rest of her letter. Alexander’s right hand kept moving in and out of her field of vision. It was the one that had caressed her. The firm, straight fingers fascinated her and she could not help willing it on when it started to draw ahead of the left hand on points. She made a conscious effort and finished her report at last.

  “Is it private?” asked Alexander. “May I read it?”

  “Yes, it is private, and no, you may not read it. What a thing to ask. Do you allow your friends to peruse accounts from your own steward?”

  He smiled, not at all offended. “I beg your pardon. I was merely interested in the workings of a very small establishment. Will you play cribbage against me instead?”

  “I will play against your left hand, my lord. Your right is too good.” Caroline spoke before she thought and then had to duck her head as she cleared away her work, for fear he would see the wash of colour in her cheeks. Dear Lord, she would have to conquer this ridiculous sensibility or she would never be able to talk to him normally again.

  Eventually the duchess left, saying she would call on her way out of town on the morrow. Caroline, in debt to the tune of several thousand points, left Alexander to rest, and hastened to the stable block. But there was no news of how the day had gone, so she simply rode Solange side-saddle around the paddock, talking to her the while, then brought her inside.

  No alarms. No disturbances. Caroline told herself she was pleased Alexander had passed an uneventful night. Harry had been home to dine, nobody had eaten too much or taken more wine than was good for them. The conversation had been informed and amusing. Would that this state of affairs lasted the week.

  Alex was perusing the newspaper next day when Giles called. “Ah,” he said. “I deduce the racing has finished.”

  “Eh? Of course it has finished. It’s Saturday. Mind, I’m not surprised your wits have gone begging, living in this dead-and-alive house. You had much better remove back to the White Hart.”

  Alex looked at his friend in surprise. “I thought we agreed Penfold Lodge was a perfect base for investigations.”

  “Yes, but Sally has lost interest in her little business and to be frank, Alex, the landlo
rd’s getting a touch restive, wanting something on account.”

  “Tell him to send the bill to my steward. You have not forgotten, Giles, that I have an interest in this ‘little business’ too? Someone hit me over the head. I find I have a strange hankering to know why.”

  “Oh, there’s nothing in that. Always a rum set of coves around Newmarket. Why, someone at Crockford’s only the other night was saying he’d disturbed a house-breaker or some such at his window. Fellow got away, of course, but it just shows you.”

  “Which night? Who was it talking?”

  “Burn it, I don’t know.” Giles took his usual restless turn about the room. “Lord, it’s slow here. I don’t know how you can stand it. And that Friday-faced chit looking at you as if you were wearing the wrong coat or something all the time.”

  Alex had to control a small rush of most unexpected anger. “Do you mean Miss Caroline Fortune? I daresay she thinks you might lead me into some scheme that would set back my recovery. I am told there is a billiard room - shall we have a game?”

  “You will have to loan me the wherewithal to pay you if I lose,” said Giles. “I dropped most of mine at faro last night.”

  Alex rang for a footman to ask where the billiard room might be found, but as they crossed the hall, the front door was opened to admit Alderman Taylor and his daughter.

  “Then again,” murmured Giles, “after spending the week largely in the company of gentlemen, I suddenly feel a great urge for a spot of feminine frippery. I think we might join the ladies, don’t you?” He moved forward with polite effusions, giving Alex no chance to disagree.

  In the saloon, Alex saw a tiny smile play around Caroline’s lips as she took in the visitors. “A lovely day for a drive, Alderman,” she said. “So kind of you to bring Louisa to visit me again.”

  Alex turned his head away hastily. The wretched girl was dangerous in company. It took him an instant to compose himself in order answer the alderman’s civil questions about his health.