Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  “Eventually, my father bred Zephyr. By this time, Northcotte was racing a colt out of the first horse. The colt and Zephyr were born the same year, so they went head to head in all of the meetings. Zephyr won each time. Northcotte couldn’t bear it, sold his colt, started buying and selling mares and stallions in an effort to produce the perfect horse.”

  “He became obsessed, it would appear,” Pierce commented.

  “Yes, bordering on madness. Before any of his foals were old enough to race, Zephyr died. The next year, Northcotte’s stables were back on top again.”

  “That is quite a coincidence. But you can’t let it become an obsession. You’ll be as bad as Northcotte’s father. Move on. You have Triton, who will win plenty in his prime, and will sire enough for you to have your pick and sell the rest. Not to mention the stud fees he will bring in.”

  David leaned back, crossing one leg over his knee. “The money is not the point. Fernleigh produces sound horseflesh known for temperament and easy gait. But the pride of owning winning horses is immeasurable. As is the loss Father feels over Zephyr. I want to bring back his joy for life.”

  “Just don’t let the desperation of that thought lead you to do something foolish.”

  “How foolish can I be when Mother is dragging me around to afternoon teas and crowded ballrooms?”

  Pierce’s lips twitched as if he fought a smile. “Have you seen Northcotte’s sister recently?”

  “Lady Joanna? No, not since I’ve been back. Hannah told me they would be attending the same assembly tonight.”

  “I’m surprised you’re here and not there.”

  David motioned to a footman to bring him another whisky. “I pleaded weariness from my travels. Mother was quite sympathetic.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You seem to be spending quite a lot of time with the young lady, during the day as well as socially.” Pierce leaned back, raising one thin black brow.

  “You know why. I hope to gain information on her brother.”

  “I can see where it might take weeks and weeks to build up the nerve to ask if her brother is a vengeful horse-murderer.” His sarcasm was tangible. “Is there a guideline on how long an acquaintance must be in place before steering conversation in that direction?”

  “Very well, it’s not something I would ask her directly. But Lady Joanna might accidentally let slip something I can use to prove my case.”

  “These are the excuses of a man treading dangerously close to the parson’s noose.”

  David’s bark of laughter made a few heads turn. “I am not in danger of that. She’s pretty enough, and has an excellent seat—”

  “Don’t let her hear you discussing that part of her anatomy.” Pierce grinned and winked.

  “I am not familiar enough with her person to discuss it with you or anyone else.” A realization struck him. “Good God, do you suppose men are discussing Hannah’s anatomy? They’d better not do so in my hearing, or they’ll be trying to speak around my fist.”

  Pierce cleared his throat. “I’d advise you to stay out of the clubs, then, until Hannah is married.”

  “The devil you say. Who is it? Who has dared speak of her that way?”

  “The list of who haven’t is shorter. Your sister is a Diamond, haven’t you noticed? If I were—”

  “Don’t say it,” David growled. “Not if you value our friendship.”

  Chuckling, Pierce shook his head. “She will be married one day, you know. Some man will have all of her treasures to himself. Hmm, I might be willing to consider sampling her myself.”

  David launched himself at his friend. Pierce’s chair toppled, sending both of them sprawling. David’s elbow connected with the table in the fall, shooting sparks of pain up his arm. Rolling off his friend, David jumped to his feet, shaking his hand. “Bollocks, that hurt.”

  Pierce climbed to his feet and rubbed the back of his head. He righted the chair, waving off an approaching footman. “What were you thinking, man?”

  “I didn’t think. I reacted. Don’t talk about Hannah in that manner. And don’t ever consider making her your own. I know you too well to allow it.”

  “I won’t, don’t worry. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re like the dog guarding the sheep.”

  “That’s what it feels like. No man will get past me to hurt my sister. Any of my sisters.”

  Pierce slanted him a look that said he’d gone mad. “I don’t doubt it.”

  David sucked on the most tender of his knuckles, then motioned to the hallway. “Shall we play some billiards?”

  “Might as well. We’ve clearly exhausted all safe topics of conversation.” After gulping the last of his drink, Pierce followed him out of the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Upon entering the dining room at breakfast, Joanna was startled to see her brother in his spot at the end of the table. “You’re here rather late. You aren’t needed in the House of Lords this morning?”

  He rattled the newspaper in his hands. “I must tend to some business.”

  Since he went back to reading, she nibbled at her toast in the silence she was accustomed to. Mama drank her chocolate in bed most mornings, allowing Joanna to enjoy the stillness before callers began their rounds or she left on her own errands. Some mornings, however, the weight of the quiet made her wish to escape their home.

  “How is Mother?”

  Joanna jumped at her brother’s voice. “Much the same. Well enough to not require the doctor, but not well enough to receive callers.”

  He grunted in response. Recalling the conversation she’d had with Sir Frederick at Mrs. Stanford’s ball, she decided to question Robert now, when neither of them was overstressed. “I’ve met an acquaintance of yours on several occasions of late. Sir Frederick Aldwen. He makes me rather uncomfortable as he presumes an introduction when none has taken place.”

  Her brother lowered the newspaper and took a sip of his coffee. “Sir Frederick, you say? I’m, uh, rather surprised. I was not aware he attended the type of assemblies you’ve been invited to.”

  “Not only has he been to the balls, but he has accosted me on the street and suggested I walk with him. He’s quite uncivilized.”

  Pursing his lips, he ran his thumb over the corners of the folded paper. “He is rather, isn’t he? I’ve only spoken to him regarding business matters, but I can see where he’d be awkward in some situations.” His brows drew together, deepening the crease between them.

  “I’m at wits end about how to deal with him. Why, at Mrs. Stanford’s ball, he had the nerve to imply there was a betrothal between us.”

  His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “He did? Did anyone hear him say this?”

  “Hopefully, no one outside those at our table heard. Mr. Lumley and his sister Lady Hannah were the others present. The tables were close together, but conversation was so lively throughout the room, I doubt anyone was listening.”

  “I suppose that’s in our favor. But why were you sitting with Mr. Lumley? How are you acquainted with him?”

  Her lips pulled tight and she sighed. Mr. Lumley was the least of her problems. Why was Robert focusing on that man? She didn’t really hope that Mr. Lumley might offer for her, but he was certainly the best of the prospects she’d seen to date. If the gentleman did ask for her hand, she would not turn him down, and her brother had better get over whatever irritation he had toward the man. “He is escorting his sister when he is in Town. Lady Bridgethorpe and Mama are old friends, and I met Lady Hannah while making calls with Mama shortly after we arrived in London.”

  Robert said nothing. She chewed her lip for a moment, deciding now was as good a time as any to learn where she stood. “Is it really necessary I find a husband before the end of the Season? I could join Aunt Ophelia in Bath for the summer. I know she’d enjoy the company.”

  “We cannot afford a trip to Bath.”

  “How much of an expense could it be? She has a home there, and if I travel with her, it will cost not
hing but my meals on the trip, and a room at the inn on the way. I won’t need additional clothes after what I bought these past months. There are many families I might meet in Bath who do not come to London.”

  “It cannot be considered. Do not belabor this, Joanna.”

  “I don’t understand the sudden need to be rid of me. Didn’t Father set aside a dowry for me? That money will be there whether I marry now or ten years from now.”

  Robert looked away and reached for his coffee. He held the cup in front of his face a moment before taking a sip. “Why postpone choosing a suitable husband? There is nothing holding you back, is there? It makes no sense to wait, when the number of titles available to you will be the same, no matter the year.”

  Her eyes widened. He really believed she had no other consideration than the titles of the gentlemen she met. “What if no man offers for me?”

  Fussing with his paper, Robert cleared his throat. “As I’ve said, I’ll find you a husband if you do not.” His thumb strummed the papers more rapidly.

  He acted so strangely of late. Meeting with odd sorts like Sir Frederick, and avoiding others she thought much more likely to be counted among his friends. She remembered that afternoon at Newmarket when Robert had been surprised to see the men she now knew were Mr. Lumley and Knightwick, and again she wondered at the apparent bad feelings between them. But Robert no longer discussed his actions with her. No longer discussed much of anything with her.

  She missed the days when they’d been close. While the duties he’d assumed upon their father’s death had distanced him, Robert hadn’t lived at home in Hurst Court Farm since she was twelve. Before then, he’d spent most of his time in the stables, as did she. They rode for hours together. He was the one who taught her to jump the hedgerows and kept that news from their mother, who would have spent a week in her room suffering from vapors had she known.

  Robert had shown her the litter of bunnies nestled under the feed room floor, and gave her a fluffy, grey-striped kitten from a litter in the hayloft. He’d sent ribbons home from the shops near Oxford while classes were in session. And when he visited, he’d complimented the hideous creations she’d fashioned when adding them to her bonnets.

  She sighed and took a bite of her cold, dry toast, chewing the tasteless morsel. Mama had been happy then, and Father won often enough at race meetings to keep a grin on his face. What had happened to them? Robert grew up. Father grew sullen, and then—

  The toast caught in her throat, making her cough. She would not think of it now. “I’m going riding with Lady Hannah later.” She rose from her chair, wondering why she bothered to inform Robert of her schedule. He never seemed to notice her presence or absence.

  His face was hidden behind his newspaper once more. “Very well. Enjoy yourself.”

  ~*~

  David rode silently down the London street behind his sister and Lady Joanna, with her groom following behind. The young ladies gabbed and giggled over something he couldn’t hear. He doubted he missed anything other than which gentleman had said what unpardonably tactless or shocking tidbit at the most recent ball. Lord, save him from such nattering.

  He was in ill humor, and had been since Triton’s most recent defeat to Patriot. He didn’t hold Lady Joanna responsible for the loss, in spite of how she claimed to have trained the horse. Surely, her brother only humored her when it came to such a fine creature. What could she really know about training a horse to race? Her mother never would have allowed her to spend her days in the paddock, instead of practicing her stitches and musical scales.

  Hannah looked over her shoulder at him. “What do you think, David? Should not a young lady be allowed to choose her own husband?”

  He puffed his cheeks full of air as it escaped his lips. There was a dangerous topic. He skirted a direct answer. “Of which lady do we speak? Surely Knightwick isn’t threatening to marry you to the vicar, again.”

  Lady Joanna’s laughter bubbled back to him. “What’s this? Your brother believes you’d be happy with a man of the church?”

  “No, he knows precisely how miserable I would be. That is why he threatens me. The vicar at Bridgethorpe is sixty if he’s a day, and rumor has it, he’s been engaged three times and the young ladies all broke it off before the day came. They say one eloped with the stable boy to escape her fate.”

  David shook his head. “Have you no standards, Hannah? You gossip about the vicar, of all people.”

  “I’m only relaying what I’ve heard to elucidate my objection to marrying him.”

  “Knightwick never meant for you to do so, and you know it. He’d never choose a husband for any of you girls. Besides, as long as Father lives, he will agree to the match, or not.” His brother might be acting as head of the family, but neither he nor David was in any rush for him to be the head in actuality. “What brought this up? Lady Joanna, is your brother insisting on a certain man for you?” He blamed the sudden racing of his heart on his exasperation with his sister.

  “No. Not as yet.”

  That sounded ominous. “You are still young. Isn’t this your first Season? He can’t expect you to make a choice in a matter of weeks.”

  She shrugged. “This is my second Season. But many ladies are betrothed that quickly. Lady Henrietta Galbraith has had three offers for her hand, already.”

  He guided his horse to ride beside the ladies, where the road permitted. “She has three thousand pounds, I believe. Wealthy young ladies don’t always have the chance to marry for love, when some man’s estate is failing and he finds her marriage portion attractive. Those beaux tend to act quickly. You two are lucky to be in the middle of the crowd, neither too rich nor ugly.”

  They both gasped, and he laughed. Hannah was an easy target for his barbs. He pretended to defend himself. “Which has you more outraged, that you don’t have the largest dowries of the Season, or that I believe you to be among the prettiest ladies of any Season?”

  He caught a hint of pink brightening Lady Joanna’s cheek before she turned to look ahead. She was a good sport, someone he would not mind spending more time with. Perhaps Hannah would invite her to visit after they returned to Bridgethorpe. Lady Joanna would get on well with all his sisters.

  Hannah snorted, reminding him how young she was. “Do not let his falderal impress you. My brother thinks himself charming and humorous.”

  Lady Joanna met his eye, grinning at his wink. “I am not likely to fall under his spell. I have a brother of my own, remember. You and I are less likely to make an unhappy match, I think, knowing their sex as we do.”

  The ladies grew quiet for a change, and David saw his chance to gain some information. “Oh, by the way, congratulations on Patriot’s recent wins.”

  Her grin brightened her entire face. “Thank you, I’m very proud of him.”

  “Are you familiar with his lines? I might want to use him…ah, for future, ah…”

  “Mr. Lumley, I’ve spent enough time in the stable to not blush at most of the words used there. Although, it appears you are not as comfortable with them.”

  He tugged at his cravat, knowing the warmth he felt had to be visible on his face. “Yes, well. I’m not in the habit of speaking of horses with ladies. I haven’t heard that topic recommended for the ballroom.”

  “Which is partly why I often find balls so dull,” she countered.

  He tipped his head and studied her. Did she flirt with him? That would help his purpose. Yet the thought brought a heaviness to his chest. He wanted her interested, but not so much she’d be heartbroken when he had what he needed. Watching her ride beside him, her face alight with laughter at something Hannah had said, he knew he needed to solve the poisoning cases quickly.

  ~*~

  Joanna sat in Lady Ellsworthy’s parlor on a pleasant afternoon a few days later and looked once more at the cards in her hand. Her partner, Mr. Lumley, had her on edge and she found it very difficult to focus on the play. She lay down what she thought was the right card, the
n looked to Lady Hannah to make her move.

  Mr. Lumley drummed his fingers on the table. “I believe I shall remove to the refreshment table whilst she attempts to make a decision.” Yet he made no move to rise.

  Lady Hannah rolled her eyes. “Perhaps if I were trying to find a card to please you, dear brother, I would take that long. But as I am partnered with Mr. Whitmore, I can simply play the best card in my hand.” She made her move.

  Mr. Lumley promptly flipped down his own card and the play went on. He lifted his gaze to meet Joanna’s and offered her a smile she recognized as genuine.

  That was a good word for the man. Genuine. He had no airs about him, which was refreshing. She couldn’t understand why men acted one way at a race meeting or in the stables, and altogether differently in a formal assembly. Of course, one polished one’s manners to a certain degree at any formal event, but one’s essential temperament should never change.

  Some gentlemen, she’d discovered, had a different manner based on how lofty their hostess was, as if the wives of barons and bankers didn’t deserve the same respect as did the wives of earls. One such man sat at a nearby table as the partner of Aunt Ophelia. His fawning comments often overpowered the conversation at Joanna’s table.

  “That is the perfect card you chose, Lady Ophelia,” he said.

  Joanna wrinkled her nose at Lady Hannah, who hid her grin behind her fingers. Mr. Lumley caught their exchange and shook his head, speaking sotto-voce. “Is he a friend of the family?”

  “I’ve never met the man,” Joanna confessed.

  Mr. Lumley looked at the next table again, but said nothing.

  Lady Hannah leaned close, whispering, “Ask me when we take a turn about the gardens later.”

  Her brother nodded. “I believe I’ll be ready for fresh air when this hand is through. What say you, Whitmore?”

  Whitmore nodded. “That would be wise, to walk before it becomes too chilly.”

  “Excellent, now we may finish this hand?” Mr. Lumley asked with a grumble, looking at his sister.