Fortunate Wager (Newmarket Regency Book 3)

by Jan Jones

  “Good morning,” he said, strolling into the kitchen. The various servants bobbed, bowed or (in the case of Cook) inclined their heads magisterially at him. Fortune grinned. Caroline looked resigned.

  “Could you not sleep again, my lord?” she said. “I am sure if you had rung your bell, a soothing posset could have been brought to you.”

  Alex smiled. Her hair, he noticed, was braided and pinned in a workaday fashion around her head. Her gown was a particularly distressing shade of blue. “Do you ever wear red?” he enquired.

  “Red?” she echoed in disbelief. “Oh yes, I can see it now. An unmarried young lady, not living under her parents’ roof, wearing red as she goes about her daily business. I wonder I have never thought of it for myself.”

  Alex laughed. “You are right, I suppose. I keep forgetting you are so young. But it would become you far better than that colour you have on now.”

  “Why thank you, but as the polite world is not driving four-in-hand up the London road to sit at my feet this morning, you will forgive me if I do not immediately rush upstairs and change.”

  A plate of hot rolls arrived on the table, direct from the oven. Alex promptly broke one open. “It would be a shame if you did, for these smell wonderful.”

  The assistant cook bobbed, flustered.

  Caroline consumed a roll, dripping with butter, before saying, “As it happens, this dress used to be Honoria’s. It is the curse of having fair-haired, blue-eyed sisters that when something that was supposed to be for them fails to suit, it flatters me even less.”

  Alex thought ruefully of the pin-money his own sister frittered away. “You surely have an allowance? Do you never have lengths of material made up for you alone?”

  Caroline buttered another roll and wrinkled her nose. “Well, I could I suppose, but I would have to battle Mama for it, and honestly if it was a choice between that and taking a chance on a nine-to-one promising outsider...”

  Red. Caroline flung open the door of her wardrobe and looked at the contents in despair. Red. She had a round gown in cream cotton with a dusky pink spot. Was that close enough? She could wear it for dinner, and perhaps thread one of her night-braid ribbons in her hair. Except the ribbon would not stay in place, of course, and then she would look both untidy and foolish. Could Mrs Penfold’s maid help her to anchor it? But she would wonder why.

  This was nonsensical. She collected her writing desk and went downstairs in disgust. She couldn’t believe she was even considering dressing to please a man who wouldn’t give her a second glance once he was gone from this house.

  By the greatest good fortune, a stack of letters addressed to Lord Rothwell from his steward arrived just as Caroline was running out of reasons not to spend the morning with him. Alexander looked at them glumly. “And I was thinking of petitioning for my horse to be brought round from the White Hart that I might have some exercise. It had best be tomorrow, after all.”

  Caroline pursed her lips. Did this man never reflect? “If you are of a mind to ride, you should send to your groom to get the fidgets out of the horse today,” she told him roundly. “It has been over a week since you were on him. Do you really feel strong enough?”

  “Chieftain is of a placid temperament, and I thought I might prevail on your brother to accompany me in case of any difficulty.”

  Her brother. Yes, of course.

  “Or,” continued Alexander with a ruminative air, “if he is engaged, perhaps you might join me to make sure I do not over-extend myself. My groom would be with us, naturally.” He smiled at her suddenly. “Not Jessop.”

  Colour flooded Caroline’s cheeks. It was a good thing he did not employ that smile often, or half the country would be undone. “You should certainly have someone you will listen to,” she said. “And as I feel I owe it to your mama’s faith in me, I will be pleased to accompany you. But will your friend Mr d’Arblay not wish to join you if you are to ride out?”

  “Lord, no. Giles would find the short amble across the fields which I fear is all I may manage, far too slow for his taste. Also I should prefer to essay this first attempt back in the saddle in the morning when I am strongest. Giles rarely departs his valet’s hands until noon.”

  This was welcome intelligence. Caroline left Alexander to his letters and scampered quickly up to the paddock to take Solange for a brisk turn or two about the town. It was not that she did not precisely trust the mare’s erstwhile owner should he see her on Solange, it was that she simply preferred not to take any risks. Not with the betting-odds and not with the animal.

  As it happened, she was able to work with Solange that afternoon as well. With the gentlemen of the ton returned to London for the week, Mr d’Arblay found himself at such a loss that he called to play billiards with his friend. The billiard room, most fortunately, was at the side of the house facing away from the stable.

  When she returned they were still in there. Indeed, Mr d’Arblay stayed so long that Caroline, without in the least wishing to, was obliged to penetrate their masculine fastness to offer him dinner. He was all politeness, regretting that a trifling inconvenience with his digestion precluded him eating at such an early hour. Caroline accepted the fiction with a colourless nod of her head. She dearly hoped it was sheer habit of years that enabled Alexander to still call the man a friend.

  As Caroline withdrew, Alex reflected he had never in his life had to apologise so much for Giles as he had since they had taken up residence in Newmarket. Later, however, when he touched awkwardly on the matter, Caroline merely smiled and said she was not in the least surprised his friend might find it slow at Penfold Lodge compared with the quality of his normal life.

  He eyed her, suspecting irony, and retorted that it was more likely Giles had heard a rumour that the doctor had forbidden more than one bottle of wine to be opened at any one meal.

  “A baseless untruth,” said Caroline serenely.

  Untrue or not, it was another comfortable evening. Alex felt himself replete with good food and conversation, and sought his bed without repine at an hour Giles would have stigmatised as indecently early. And surprised himself by sleeping the night through with no dreams and no tumbled, sweat-soaked sheets. Sadly, there were no vagrant ribbons either.

  It wasn’t until he joined Caroline in the stable yard next morning that Alex realised the extraordinary fact that he had not yet seen her on a horse. Now, a rush of pleasure surprised him as he looked at her. She was wearing a dull green riding habit that became both her and Rufus very well, and she sat him upright and graceful. Tan leather boots and matching gloves completed the ensemble. The reins were loose in her hand, proclaiming her unconscious ease in the saddle. Alex was impressed for Rufus was no small horse.

  She had evidently taken the time to check Chieftain over before he arrived, for she complimented him on the brown gelding before asking whether he really felt up to a hack.

  “I really do,” he assured her. “It is a fine day and I should like to be allowed to enjoy it without a catechism.”

  She blushed and nudged Rufus to a walk. “I beg your pardon, my lord. It must indeed have been frustrating for you to be kept indoors. I am always out of sorts myself when I am unable to ride for any period of time.”

  “Is that why you did not like London?” he asked.

  She shot a startled glance at him. “In part. Honoria is not seen to best advantage on horseback, so Mama did not think it necessary to hire us mounts. But I also found everything so artificial. Watching people at the parties was amusing for a while, until I realised that for many it is a matter of ceaseless work. Always to be seen in the right clothes, in the right places, with the right people. One is forever concerned about making the right connections, attracting the right attention. And then a single unthinking step out of line, one person offended, a careless or cutting remark about you by a person of consequence, can make all the effort count for naught. It sickened me.”

  Alex felt a welling up of anger. “Were you slighted in so
me way?”

  She laughed. “No, I had no expectations, so was not concerned enough to be disappointed. But I saw it happen to others. I saw the way people were treated when they were not rich or beautiful or well-connected. And then, of course, Lady Penfold fell ill and I was anxious about her so I could not make myself appealing. My mother was pleased enough to let me come home.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I am sorry you did not find it an agreeable experience. I spend most of my time at my club when in town, or latterly at the House, but even so there is a lot to like about the season. Though I too have frequently found balls and parties trying.”

  “It is hard to be universally affable,” she agreed gravely.

  “It is hard when one’s political aspirations are continually interrupted because one is being chased by husband-hunters,” he retorted without thinking. “And when one’s sister is behaving in a potentially disastrous manner completely overlooked by one’s imbecilic sister-in-law.” Even as those words left his lips he felt himself cringe. “I beg your pardon. Would you be so forbearing as to instantly forget that last sentence?”

  “Forget what? Sorry, my lord, I was not attending.” Caroline picked up her horse’s pace a little.

  And that had not been well done of him either. What was it about her that always put him in the wrong? “Caroline,” he said despairingly.

  She looked back. “My lord?”

  He took a deep breath. “I beg your pardon. Properly. It is not that I do not trust you to be discreet. I only meant I should not have spoken so about my brother’s wife. May I tell you the whole story? Fill in the pieces you do not know?”

  “Why?”

  To explain his previous conduct. “That you may not think me quite so much of a boor as I fear you do at this moment.”

  She hesitated, then inclined her head. “If you wish.”

  They moved on again, their horses side-by-side. Alex arranged his words. “My sister Lizzy is younger than me and very spoiled. She had been out two years without forming an attachment sufficiently strong to make her wish to marry. My parents, you must understand, are very hot on the subject of love within wedlock. Last season, my father’s health was not good so Mama stayed at Abervale with him, leaving my brother’s wife to chaperone Lizzy. We thought this would be a mere formality, since over the winter she had met Mr Marshall, a most suitable match in every way. An engagement looked set to be announced, but there was some sort of falling out - I still do not know the details - and Lizzy’s head was turned by Captain Jarman, an adventurer who came from nowhere into the heart of London society. I tried to see him off and failed. I sent to Mama, but Papa’s condition worsened around then and she could not leave him. I repeatedly warned my brother and sister-in-law what was like to occur. I explained the raison d’etre of fortune-hunters to Lizzy herself. All without success.”

  Caroline said nothing, but Alex could feel her ready sympathy.

  “Then the worst happened. It was perhaps a base thing to do, but I had set a watch on my sister. I received intelligence that she had eloped with Jarman. Naturally, I chased after them, but there were false trails all along the Great North Road that sent me wrong and I despaired of ever reaching them before night fell.” He looked at her shamefacedly. “This part, I think you know full well.”

  “I must admit to having some inkling of the sort, my lord. What happened?”

  “A coincidence far better than I deserved. By a great stroke of fortune, Lady Jersey’s carriage threw a trace at Stamford that very night, and on entering the private parlour of the George she found Lizzy and her would-be swain having an extremely acrimonious exchange of views. By the time I got there, Sally had taken Lizzy up and was half-way back to London, declaring to the world that my sister had been with her all along.”

  “And what of Captain Jarman’s remains?” enquired Caroline.

  Alex was surprised into a reluctant chuckle. “Had I laid hands on him, that’s all there would have been for sure. Alas, when I finally reached the inn, Giles told me he had searched the environs, but the rascal had escaped. No one has heard of him since.”

  Caroline’s horse checked for a moment. “Mr d’Arblay was with you?”

  “Ahead of me. I told you I got turned around on the trail.”

  “How extraordinarily good of him,” said Caroline slowly. “It is not many gentlemen who would forego their own comfort to chase after a friend’s sister. But I suppose he had known her all her life, and was fond of her.”

  Alex was gratified that she was for once seeing his friend in a better light. “As to that, Lizzy is much younger than us, so was mostly in the nursery. If Giles considered her at all until she grew up I would be surprised. But since she has been out, he has always been happy to stand in as an escort for her or to make up the numbers in a party.”

  “Yes, I see.” Caroline shot an unfathomable look at him. “A very useful man to have in one’s circle. She regards him as quite another brother I daresay.”

  “I have never thought of it, but yes, I believe you are right.”

  “And with you delayed, he would doubtless have dispatched her abductor in the same wise had Lady Jersey not arrived so fortuitously and taken charge before he could get there. Yes. Yes, I see it all quite clearly.” She glanced at him with the directness he was coming to expect of her. “You have not asked me to keep this confidential.”

  He held her honey-brown eyes with his own. “I do not believe I need to.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  They talked of other matters until they got back. On dismounting, Alex was chagrined to discover how much even an hour’s riding had taken out of him.

  Caroline tutted and slipped her arm under his to lend him the appearance of stability from the yard back to the house. “I do not think you yet realise how ill you were,” she chided. “There is nothing wrong with getting better slowly.”

  This was embarrassing. “I am not accustomed to being an invalid,” he growled.

  She looked up at him with a merry twinkle in her eyes. “No, really, my lord? I should never have guessed.”

  Alex felt himself lurch. Dizziness swirled about him forcing him to stop and catch his breath. For a moment there, he had looked down at her infuriating, half-laughing face and had wanted nothing more than to cover her parted lips with his.

  “Alexander?” And now she was alarmed, curse it, putting up her free hand to feel his brow.

  “I am well,” he gasped in a harsh voice. “I am well.” He took a ragged breath, aware of her innocence, of her softness, of the fact that they were standing in full view of an entire stable’s worth of her brother’s grooms. “Just get me back to my damned chair and leave me be.”

  She smiled, reassured. “That is more like you.” And she continued to support him to his room, giving orders for tea and a fire and a small, sustaining snack and the newspapers, if Mrs Penfold had finished with them.

  Alex let himself be directed, listening to her capable voice, feeling the swell of her bosom against his arm, tallying the difference in their ages. “I should go back to the White Hart,” he said abruptly.

  She glanced at him with a flicker of surprise. “If you wish it, my lord. Will you inform her grace or shall I?”

  Alex laughed, and sat down, and the world righted itself again. “I beg your pardon. My thanks for your company on the ride, Miss Fortune, and if it would please you to send my valet to me that I may get out of these boots, I shall shortly join you for a dish of tea and a slice or two of bread-and-butter.”

  She looked at him askance, murmuring, “I wonder if the doctor is free,” as she left the room.

  Caroline reached the sanctuary of her room and sank nervelessly onto the bed with her head in her hands. How she had kept up an appearance of normality then she did not know. When Alexander had stumbled just before entering the house, there had been such an expression of... of warmth in his eyes Caroline had almost given in to the temptation to stretch up and kiss him.
Her cheeks burned to imagine the outcome of such an action. He would have been horrified. As it was, when he had made that ludicrous suggestion of returning to the inn, every sinew had cried out against it and she had been hard pressed not to emulate them.

  She took off her riding habit and put on the gown with the dusky pink spot. She might never have Alexander’s heart, but she was blowed if she was going to have any more of his censure about wearing the wrong colours.

  Downstairs, all appeared to be normal again. Harry joined them for a nuncheon and talked over Chieftain’s points with Alexander. When the post was brought in, Caroline recognised Louisa’s writing and eased opened the seal in full expectation of a comfortable gossipy letter.

  “Oh dear,” she said aloud after she had perused the first sentences.

  The men looked up. Harry’s eyes, also recognising Louisa’s round hand, sharpened with anxiety. “What is it?” he said. “Is she ill? Tell me!”

  Caroline shook her head. “No, they are well. So well, in fact, that we are all invited to dine there before the assembly on Friday.”

  Harry’s lips thinned. “Even me?” he said with a touch of bitterness.

  “Certainly. Louisa writes ‘your whole household’ with double underlining under the word whole.” Caroline glanced at Alexander. “I daresay, my lord, if you dislike the scheme, we need simply say that your health is not yet robust enough to partake of evening engagements.”

  To her surprise, Alexander looked merely resigned. “I suppose you will make me go both ways in a closed carriage, will you?”

  Caroline felt her mouth drop open. “You intend accepting? Louisa’s father will be in transports.”