Beauty in Breeches (4 page)

Beatrice stared at him in disbelief. ‘I might have known you would say something like that to discredit my father, but I do not believe you.'

He shrugged. ‘You may believe what you like, but it is true. I do not lie. I did not find out myself until
later—when I had to find the finance to pay off the mortgage.'

Beatrice looked at him directly, finding what he said hard to believe and wondering what sort of man this Julius Chadwick actually was. ‘My father was a man without deceit, a man you could trust, who had fallen on hard times. And you, Lord Chadwick, took advantage of his weakened state. Larkhill meant more to me and my mother than to be put on a gambling table in a seedy gentleman's club.'

‘It was a private gentleman's club,' he countered, needlessly provocative. ‘There was nothing seedy about it.'

‘A gambler would say that. So now you have two homes.'

‘Three, actually.'

Momentarily thrown, she stared at him in amazement. ‘Three? How can one person live in three places at once?'

‘I don't. I travel a lot,' he stated by way of explanation. ‘Miss Fanshaw, must I remind you that we have an audience. Might I suggest that you lower your tone? You embarrass us both with your show of emotion. I understand your antagonism towards me, which must have increased a thousandfold as you have allowed it to fester over the years. Indeed, I would feel very much the same were the situation reversed.'

‘I'm glad you understand,' she uttered scathingly, ‘although it doesn't alter the way I feel. I am not like my father. If you are a courageous man, you will allow me to accept your wager.'

‘If nothing else, you are forward and recklessly bold, Miss Fanshaw.'

‘I always believe in being direct and I enjoy walking on the wild side. I am sure you find it shocking and unfeminine that I have interest in things beyond
petit point
and fashion, but that's the way I am.'

‘I do, but in your case I will overlook your unfeminine interests—but will your aunt, Lady Standish?'

‘I don't doubt she will flay me alive for daring to intimate that I am anything less than a perfect lady. But a perfect lady I am not and never will be. You are staying at Larkhill?'

‘I am. I've been out of the country for several months; now I'm back I intend spending more time in London. I found the time was ripe to visit Larkhill, to look over the property and decide what is to be done.' A subtle smile curved his lips. ‘There are many factors which might influence how long I stay.'

‘Then I hope you enjoy your stay. So, Lord Chadwick, what do you say? Will you accept my challenge?'

‘I am a huntsman, Miss Fanshaw. I enjoy the chase.'

‘Aye, and once the prey is caught, the sport is over. You should know better than to gamble against my good friend Julius at any game of skill,' Lord Roderick Caruthers warned. Like everyone else he had been listening to the interesting altercation between these two.

Beatrice looked at Lord Caruthers coolly. ‘Lord Chadwick and I are not acquainted, sir, so how could
I possibly know that? But I am sure that if he is as skilled as you say he is, then he will have no qualms about me taking him up on his challenge.'

J
ulius smiled at her words. His smile was the same smile that caused Astrid to flush and tremble—but it would take more than a smile from Julius Chadwick to have the same effect on Beatrice.

‘So, Miss Fanshaw, are you really serious about taking me up on my wager?'

‘I would not have put myself forward if I wasn't—unless you have an aversion to accepting a challenge from a woman, afraid of how it will look should I win.'

‘Win?' His lips curved in mockery. ‘Do you seriously think you can beat me?'

‘I stand as good a chance as anyone else.'

‘I see. Then the answer is, no, I do not have an aversion to a race between us.'

Common sense told Julius not to encourage her, and yet, confronted by her challenge, he was intrigued and was unable to resist the temptation. He was compelled
to take her on, merely to see how well she could ride. He stared at her profile as she turned her head slightly, tracing with his gaze the beautiful lines of her face, the curved brush of her lustrous dark eyelashes. Yes, Miss Fanshaw was quite extraordinarily lovely. She had an untamed quality running in dangerous undercurrents just below the surface and a wild freedom of spirit that found its counterpart in his own hot-blooded, temperamental nature.

‘The place and the distance will be of your choosing and we shall meet at eight o'clock tomorrow morning.' He turned to George. ‘Arrange it, will you, George? Who will you place your bets on?'

George laughed. ‘Now there's a challenge in itself. Were it anyone else, Julius, I would certainly back you, but be warned. My cousin has a special affinity with the equine species, preferring them to people. She would rather throw a saddle over a horse than attend a ball. She'll do anything for a dare and is a demon on a horse. Her own is no dainty mare, but a brute of an animal—a gelding. On such an impressive mount she stands to win.'

Beatrice threw Lord Chadwick a challenging look. ‘Perhaps Lord Chadwick considers it most improper for a young lady to ride a gelding.'

An eyebrow jutted upwards. ‘Young lady? My dear Miss Fanshaw, you are the most controversial and exciting woman I have ever met in my life; I suspect that your vitality is such that you are a menace to everyone you meet. It does not surprise me in the least that you ride a gelding.' A roguish grin tugged at his lips. ‘If
you told me you rode an elephant, I would believe you. As it is I shall take my chance.'

The wager had attracted a good deal of attention and others began to place their bets.

‘I'll back you, Chadwick,' someone shouted. ‘Fifty guineas you win.'

Julius turned and grinned as interest in the race began to mount. ‘See what is happening, Miss Fanshaw. You have fallen among desperate gamblers.'

‘I already knew that before I accepted your challenge,' she uttered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. He gave her a cold look, but chose not to comment on her provocative remark.

‘Seventy-five guineas,' another voice shouted.

‘A hundred.'

‘My diamond necklace,' a lady from the back of the crowd piped up.

And so it went on until the stakes reached heady proportions. But neither participant was listening as they continued to watch each other warily. Beatrice's gaze was ensnared by the glittering sheen of the amber eyes.

‘And us, Miss Fanshaw?' Julius murmured. ‘What will we forfeit?'

There was a deathly hush. From beneath the gazebo Lady Standish watched what was happening in appalled, stony silence, unable to believe her niece's shocking behaviour. The look in her eyes was as potent as a spoken curse.

‘I say the winner names the forfeit,' Beatrice suggested.

Julius nodded. ‘I think you have planned this, Miss Fanshaw.'

Beatrice raised her chin a notch. ‘You don't
have
to agree to race against me, Lord Chadwick. Indeed, I don't know why I entertained such a notion.'

He looked at her directly and she felt her breath come a little short. ‘Oh, I think you do,' he said quietly. ‘I think you know
exactly
what you want and you will stop at nothing to get it. I read people well, Miss Fanshaw, and I think you have the ability to be absolutely single minded. You know very well why you entertained this notion.'

Her smile was one of thin sarcasm. ‘You do a lot of thinking, Lord Chadwick.'

‘All the time.'

‘If I am as you say, then indirectly it is your doing.'

‘I am sorry to find that after all these years you still carry a grudge. And now all I need to do is discover what forfeit you will ask of me, and the only way I can do that is to race against you—unless you will indulge me and tell me now.'

She tossed her head haughtily. To forgo propriety and do what one wished was quite liberating. ‘No, not before the end of the race.'

‘Very well. Until after the race.'

There were loud guffaws from the crowd. ‘Careful, Julius,' Roderick Caruthers shouted. ‘Be careful what you commit yourself to. You are a gentleman, remember, and gentlemen never renege on their word.'

He grinned. ‘I'd better win, then.'

‘And should I win, you will give me your word to honour the forfeit?' Beatrice asked, holding his gaze. ‘I do.'

Her expression was innocent, but her eyes were hard to read. She raised her brows slightly, and said, ‘I intend to hold you to that.'

‘So the wager is made—but your forfeit? I think I have guessed, which wasn't too difficult considering the circumstances. Though it is immaterial since you cannot win.' Julius's grin broadened and he looked at her knowingly, holding up one hand. ‘Don't tell me. Larkhill.'

Beatrice gave him a level look. ‘Oh, no. Believe me, Lord Chadwick, nothing I could ask from you would be as fine or as grand as Larkhill.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘I am intrigued. Tell me.'

‘Like I said, not until after the race—although if your horse is as splendid as you would have everyone believe, then I might well be tempted to take it from you.'

‘Oh, no, lady—my horse is an exception. I have waited too long to get a horse by its sire—a winner of some top races—and I am not about to lose him now. But why are we discussing this? I shall win.'

Beatrice smiled almost sweetly. ‘Then you have nothing to worry about, have you, Lord Chadwick?'

‘You must be confident, to accept my challenge.'

‘I would not be doing this if I wasn't confident that I could beat you.'

Beatrice would make sure that Lord Chadwick could not refuse the forfeit she would ask of him if she won
the race, even while telling herself that what she was doing was foolish. Her eyes held his and she knew he would read her absolute determination to go ahead with this wager—foolish or not.

‘Cousin Beatrice is no docile, ordinary young lady,' George laughingly told Lord Chadwick. ‘She is a mannerless hoyden—a dark horse if ever there was is how I would describe her.' He paused with a small private smile and a playful wink at Beatrice. ‘Dark horse, maybe, but she is also clever and cunning and always dangerous.'

‘Really,' Julius uttered quietly. ‘A woman after my own heart.'

Beatrice was so close, she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. ‘Oh, no, Lord Chadwick,' she countered coldly. ‘You can keep your heart. That is the last thing I want from you.'

He regarded her long and hard before replying. ‘I shall. My heart has always been in my own safe keeping, and there it will remain. Safe. But you intrigue me, Miss Fanshaw. Already I am wondering what I have let myself in for. And I was beginning to imagine you would become unseated at the first hurdle.'

‘Don't you believe it,' George told him. ‘Beatrice has the best pair of hands I've ever seen. She knows horses—could whisper a horse out of a field. But should you win, Julius, what forfeit will you ask of her?'

Lord Chadwick looked at George as he considered his question, but his penetrating gaze returned to Beatrice.

Curious as to what his reply would be, Beatrice waited expectantly. The glow in her face now faded. She straightened her back.

At length he said, ‘As to that, I have not yet decided. But I will, and she may not like it when I have.' He bowed his head ever so slightly. ‘Until tomorrow, Miss Fanshaw. I look forward to our race.'

 

Beatrice had not imagined confronting Lord Chadwick would require such an effort. On reaching the house her stomach was still tied in knots and her heart had yet to find its customary rhythm. Nervousness was not a reaction to which she was normally susceptible. There was no place in her scheme of things for faint heartedness, and this afternoon she had taken the first step to reclaiming Larkhill. Recalling how Lord Chadwick had looked at her with open admiration, her lips quirked. In the circumstances, it was a definitely heartening thought.

She was about to cross the hall to the stairs when a voice rang out, halting her.

‘A word, Beatrice.'

She turned to face her aunt, her brow furrowed with a twinge of premonition. She got the familiar feeling that trouble was afoot, and as she noted her aunt's sharp look, that piercing glance told her plainly that some kind of storm was brewing. It was plain that Lady Standish was both appalled and incensed over her niece's conduct.

‘Beatrice! How dare you conduct yourself in this manner? How dare you? And to publicly take Lord
Chadwick to task over past grievances was outrageous—an absolute disgrace.'

Beatrice's green eyes flashed, but when she spoke she managed to moderate her tone. ‘I meant no offence, Aunt Moira. Truly.'

‘I know about the wager between the two of you and you forget yourself. Not only do you shame yourself, but me and our good name. I will not have it. You make yourself a disgrace. Such freakish sports are not fitting for a young lady of quality. I will not have the reputation of this family jeopardised by your folly.'

‘I'm sorry if I have upset you, Aunt Moira, but I never could resist a challenge.'

‘A challenge? Beatrice, this is
me
you are talking to, not a fool. You haven't the first inkling of social graces. In that I have tried and failed, for you were determined not to learn. By your activities you encourage Lord Chadwick. I see that. Why do you always take such delight in being disobedient?'

Tired of being told what to do, Beatrice averted her eyes, trying to keep her anger and frustration at bay, but rebellion was bubbling away inside her. ‘Because I am old enough to look after myself.'

Lady Moira appeared undaunted. ‘In society no woman is old enough to look after herself in certain circumstances—and you are just eighteen years old.'

‘I am old enough and can look after myself. There's not one weak bone in my body.' Her fingers curled tightly into her palm as she tried to remain calm. ‘I have enough good sense in my head to know what I am doing.'

‘That is where we differ, Beatrice. Had you any sense at all, you would not have entered into this disgraceful wager with Lord Chadwick.' Her eyes narrowing, she thrust her head forwards and glared knowingly at this disappointing niece of hers. ‘What do you hope for? To push Astrid out of her place? To supplant her in Lord Chadwick's attention? Though this was supposed to be Astrid's birthday party, you have stolen her attention. In fact, you have eclipsed Astrid in success. There is some doubt that Lord Chadwick will offer for her now. Are you jealous of your cousin, Beatrice? Is that it?'

A frown crossed Beatrice's beautiful face, then her anger fled and she knew a moment of shame. ‘I am not jealous of Astrid. Please do not think that. I love Astrid as a sister and I would never do anything that would cause her pain. Astrid doesn't have a place in Lord Chadwick's affections, Aunt Moira, that is plain to see. You wanted him to notice her. He was polite. You saw what you wanted to see.'

‘And you hate him—remember?' she pointed out coldly.

‘Yes, I do.'

‘Then I would have thought you would have wanted to steer well clear of him. And the wager? I do not believe in flouting propriety in this way. It is the most disgraceful thing I have ever heard in my life.'

‘I am sorry if it has caused you distress, Aunt, but the wager is made. I cannot go back on my word.'

‘And what do you hope to get out of it—if you win, that is,' she sneered, ‘which I very much doubt, since
by all accounts no one handles a horse quite like Lord Chadwick?'

‘Then perhaps he has met his match. I accept that what I am doing is a risk.'

‘Risk?' Lady Standish gave her a thin, sarcastic smile. ‘I think that is putting it mildly, Beatrice.'

Beatrice lifted her head and looked squarely into her aunt's eyes. ‘If I win and Lord Chadwick agrees to my forfeit, not only will I be able to return to Larkhill, I will also have the means to make it one of the finest houses in the county. You will also have me off your hands for good, which I know you will look on as a blessing.'

‘That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard. This time you have gone too far. You will not do it. Do you hear me? Don't you dare disobey me. I will not have it. I will not be accused of being unable to keep my niece in check and made a laughing stock. Now go to your room and think good and hard about what I have said.'

‘I will, Aunt Moira.' On that note Beatrice excused herself, leaving a thoroughly shocked Aunt Moira staring after her.

 

Beatrice returned to the party as dusk was beginning to fall. After an hour spent talking to friends and acquaintances, she went in search of Astrid. She found her listening to the musicians. They were all dressed alike in crimson coats and white trousers, seated on a rostrum hung with coloured lanterns. Astrid turned her head when Beatrice stood beside her and smiled. Her
eyes sparkled and a pretty flush coloured her cheeks as she sipped a glass of lemonade cooled with crushed ice.