Fortunate Wager (3 page)

His sister gave a strangulated sound which she managed to turn into a cough. Alex’s exasperation rose again. The pair of them were so damnably young!

She was talking once more, crossing the room to the tray by his elbow. ‘Will you take a glass of wine, my lord? Harry, you will have to do without ale. Scroope appears to think it inappropriate in view of the company.’

About to refuse, Alex looked up and experienced a slight shock. Plain though Miss Caroline Fortune undoubtedly was, she had lovely eyes, something that hadn’t been apparent yesterday when they were filled with scorn. Now they were honey-brown and suffused with a merriment that was really quite difficult to snub. She was also, he realized with indignation some thirty minutes later, remarkably managing. Without at all meaning to, he had consumed two glasses of claret and a plate
of meat and pickles whilst talking over training methods quite different from those he was accustomed to. All of which found him leaving the house with Mr Harry Fortune in a far mellower mood than when he had arrived.

‘I expect I’ll see you on the heath later,’ said Fortune cheerfully. ‘Rufus is running today.’

That reminded Alex of something. ‘Your sister said she helped birth him. Can that be true? How old is she?’

Fortune grinned. ‘In years? Eighteen. Came out last season.’

‘I do not remember her being in Town.’

‘You wouldn’t. Honoria is the beauty, you see. Caro was quite in her shade. She’ll go up again when Selina comes out next spring, but I daresay it’ll be the same story. Great gun, though. Worth all the rest put together.’

Alex walked back to the White Hart with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction that he was quite unable to account for. He discovered Giles in the yard, inspecting a dun gelding.

‘What do you think?’ said his friend.

Alex scrutinized the horse. ‘Too short in the back.’

Giles turned to the groom. ‘Tell your master I’m obliged to him, but Lord Rothwell thinks him too short in the back.’ The groom nodded and led the gelding away. Giles fell into step with Alex. ‘Had a good look around the stable, then?’

Alex lowered his voice. He didn’t want the entire coaching inn knowing what was going on. Jessop was too close to them as it was, polishing unnecessarily at a spotless girth strap. ‘Didn’t get a chance. Fortune wasn’t there.’

Giles looked at him sharply. ‘Then where have you been this long time?’

‘I ran him to ground at Fortune House. His sister insisted on plying us with victuals.’

Giles snorted. ‘Trying to keep you sweet. Doesn’t want you quarrelling with her brother again.’

‘That would be impossible. I might as well argue with the sun for shining.’

‘Damned cheerful country hick. Doesn’t stop him being our
man. He pocketed so much yesterday that it couldn’t all have been luck.’

Alex felt a surge of vexation. ‘Giles, you know my views. I believe this whole crazy notion to be a mare’s nest of Sally Jersey’s. There is no double dealing at the Newmarket races, let alone anything perpetrated by someone as feckless as Harry Fortune.’

‘Feckless? You didn’t see how much blunt he collected.’

‘Deuce take it, for all his youth, the cub is a
trainer
. He is out on the grounds day in day out. Naturally he watches the other horses as well as his own. His “luck”, as you call it, doubtless results from the application of his knowledge.’

Giles shrugged. ‘Then I like him even less. There’s something damnably ill-bred about using science in the sport of kings.’

‘What nonsense you do spout. I’m away to the heath, not that one can spy anything amiss with all the crowds and the dashing between courses. I never knew such a place for so much confusion. If Lady Jersey had ever attended a Newmarket meeting herself, she would know so and not expect me to work miracles on her behalf. “The outsider sees more of the game” indeed.’

‘But as she hasn’t, and doesn’t know what goes on, you may enjoy yourself without worrying and later tell her you noticed nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘Giles, when I promise to do something, I do it.’

His friend shrugged. ‘As you will. It makes you a damned uncomfortable companion though.’ Then he brightened. ‘Hey, here’s a thought – why not save yourself some trouble by asking one of the grooms to skulk around on your behalf? Jessop would do it for extra coin in his hand, I’m sure. What’s more, he’s native to the course here and would know in a moment if there was anything smoky.’

‘No.’ Alex didn’t hide his instant distaste for this suggestion. ‘The fewer people in this affair the better.’

‘Ha! More that you hate being obliged to the lower orders,’ observed Giles. ‘You could ask him with ease for I was going to
take him up there anyway. You don’t mind, I suppose? My man’s down with some infernal stomach complaint.’

‘You’ll be riding. Why do you need a groom?’

His friend looked at him askance. ‘For the spare mount if mine goes lame, of course. Where’s the fun if you can’t follow the race?’

‘At the finishing post?’ said Alex drily.

‘Paltry. You can’t just wait for excitement to find you in this life, Alex. You have to go out and extract it whenever possible.’

‘You are incorrigible.’ Alex clapped him on the back and rode off, waving away his grooms. That was Giles all over. Even on the brink of ruin he would bet the devil he could trot around the rim of Hell without falling in. If he would only put one tenth of the energy he expended on amusement into tending his lands instead, he wouldn’t find himself in precarious straits quite so often. Giles, however, had never viewed the long run as near so enticing as the next minute’s sprint. Talking of which, Alex felt gloom descend on him once again. He really was not looking forward to spending the ensuing days peering at jockeys and their agents to see whether any of them had been nobbled and by whom.

The gloom was justified. After the most frustrating week’s racing Alex had ever suffered, he leaned his throbbing head against the cool windowpane on Saturday morning, wincing at the sun just beginning to shine palely over the rooftops opposite. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to drink heavily
again
last night. First at Crockford’s and then damn near a whole bottle of brandy back here in his rooms at the White Hart. Sheer self-pity because most of his acquaintance were departing and he was not.

Soft hoofbeats grazed his ears. He focused morosely on a lithe stripling trotting a bay along the High Street. The boy had a superb action, seeming at one with his mount. Alex had been going to ride today to get the stench of failure out of his head, though admittedly not this early. He’d have to forget the idea.
The only thing he could contemplate with any degree of complaisance right now was premature death. He managed to swallow some water without gagging and then crawled back into bed cursing all women and the obligations they exacted on honourable men. Somewhere in his twisted dreams Lady Jersey laughed heartlessly at him, his sister eloped with whole strings of fortune hunters, his one-time mistress taunted that she was leaving him for someone less boring – and then they all turned into Caroline Fortune who informed him he’d brought everything on himself.

He did not feel that much better when he got up some hours later.

‘I’m off fishing,’ said Giles. ‘Coming?’

Alex cast a jaundiced eye through the window of the inn at the offensively bright sunlight. ‘You’ll never catch anything.’

‘Lay you a pony I do. Besides, Rutland invited me. Can’t not go when I’ve been asked.’

‘I’ll see you at dinner if I happen to be still alive. Remind me to block my ears the next time you suggest a night-cap on top of whatever hellish brew they were serving at Crockford’s last evening.’

Giles chuckled unfeelingly, calling in unnecessarily strident tones for his valet as he left their private parlour. Alex allowed himself another moment of self-pity. If he’d been at home, his butler would by now be hovering at his shoulder with a covered tankard. True, the contents in general smelled appalling and tasted worse, but it did the job.

Oh, he was wasting so much time here! He should be in London, studying the proceedings in the House, mixing with the influential personages who were sponsoring his admittance and finding him a seat, impressing them with his intelligence and gravity.

A waiter came in to clear away the remains of Giles’s breakfast. He looked sideways at Alex. ‘The master always says what a gentleman needs who’s been a bit on the go, is the hair of the dog that bit him.’

‘Your master is a publican,’ pointed out Alex crushingly. ‘Such sayings are to his profit.’ A crash from the street, followed by horses neighing and an ensuing loud altercation made his head throb unbearably. Was there nowhere quiet in this inn? He picked up a printed pamphlet exhorting the reader to visit sundry Local Attractions for the benefit of their Health and Amusement. A description of the Abbey ruins at Bury St Edmunds caught his eye. ‘How far to Bury St Edmunds?’ he asked the waiter.

‘A matter of fifteen miles, my lord. But it’s a good road all the way.’

‘Then ask them downstairs to get my curricle ready, please.’ Yes, cool monastic solitude sounded very good to him at that moment.

C
AROLINE SAT ON
a bench near the Abbey Gate, her eyes closed and the spring sunshine warm on her face. Harry and Louisa had applied to see what was left of the ruined abbey (which wasn’t much after Henry VIII had had his way and then the townsfolk had used the resultant rubble as a handy source of building materials), but at the last minute Caroline hadn’t been able to face it and had said she would wait outside for them. Louisa had pressed her hand, thinking her friend was being discreet, but the truth was that Bertrand had brought her here before he left to rejoin his regiment in the Peninsular that last time. She had been back several times since, of course, but the sight of two small boys bowling a hoop down the street as they arrived and their sister pleading with the nursemaid to be granted a turn too had brought him too vividly to mind for her to continue.

It had been a lovely day. Bertrand had included his grandparents and the rest of the schoolroom party in the outing and they had sought permissions and brought a picnic, but she had known right from the expedition being mooted that it was her he especially wanted to address. He wanted to say something particular, something he couldn’t give tongue to in the stables in the early morning with her dressed in breeches and the men all around.

‘Keep visiting my folks, won’t you,’ he’d said, after the ancient stones had been clambered over, clothes dusted down, raised pies and cold chicken eaten and they had moved slightly
apart from the others. ‘They’ll need some life about the place once I’ve shipped out.’

‘Of course,’ Caroline had replied. ‘I would even if I didn’t want an excuse to keep escaping from home. And I’ll look after Rufus and see to his training for you as well.’

‘For
us
,’ he’d corrected her. ‘And don’t forget to carry on with our betting account. Flood will put the money on and bank the winnings if Harry can’t.’ He’d coloured and fiddled with his gloves. ‘Caro, I know you’re only fourteen and I’m quite a bit older, but you’re the best friend a chap could have and I’ve always thought we might … That is, I’ve been rather hoping that in another couple of years we’d….’

A well-spring of happiness had nearly unmanned her. ‘Oh yes, Bertrand. Yes, please. I’ve never wanted anything else.’

He’d looked relieved. ‘That’s all right, then. I’ll sell out once we’ve seen off Boney. Don’t much fancy the army in peacetime. Those brats are making a hash of flying the kite, aren’t they? Shall we give them a hand?’

Reviewing the conversation now, Caroline could see it lacked a certain something as far as romantic declarations went, but Bertrand Penfold had always been more at home with jokes than with deep feelings, and to a girl who had idolized him since he first put her up on a pony when she was an adventurous
three-year-old
and he a good-natured twelve, the unspoken understanding between them had been all she’d needed.
Oh
Bertrand, if only you hadn’t—

‘What the devil are you doing here alone?’

Caroline’s eyes flew open. The children and their nursemaid were gone. Instead, Lord Rothwell towered in front of her, his eyebrows drawn together in a fearsome scowl. ‘I am not alone! I’m with my brother and Miss Taylor.’

His lordship looked around in sarcastic disbelief. ‘Who are where exactly?’

Caroline stood, furious with him for jerking her out of her memories. ‘Not that it is any of your business,’ she snapped, ‘but Harry and Louisa have applied to see the abbey ruins. I felt a
little fatigued so said I would wait here for them.’

‘You’ve been crying,’ he said abruptly.

‘
I
have not
!’
She turned away from him and sat down again, trembling. ‘Pray do not let me keep you from your promenade.’

To her rage, she felt the bench shift under his weight. ‘I had the ruins in mind myself, but must also admit to feeling a little fatigued. I daresay it was the drive. I shall contemplate the scene for a while, the better to armour myself against any ghostly Franciscans.’

‘They were Benedictine monks, not Franciscans, and I wish you would have the goodness to armour yourself somewhere else.’

‘Oh no, this position suits me very well. But please do not feel obliged to make conversation. Handsome architecture of the sort I see before me is far better appreciated in silence.’

‘Insufferable,’ muttered Caroline.

‘How strange. That was always my sister’s opinion when constrained to accept a companion. You are out of luck. I have first-hand experience of the bacon-brained notions young ladies get in their heads if they are carelessly chaperoned and their thoughts not given a proper direction.’

Caroline swung around. ‘How dare you! Miss Taylor is with
my brother
and it is not only his sense of honour and the esteem he bears her which prevents their behaving scandalously – she herself knows perfectly well what is owed to her father and his position in society!’

He looked startled. ‘What the devil has Miss Taylor to do with anything? I have never even met her. I was referring to
you
. It is perfectly obvious from your countenance that you either have a clandestine appointment and your companion has missed it, or he kept it and you quarrelled.’

Caroline could hardly speak she was so incensed. ‘Lord Rothwell, you overstep the mark indeed! Even if what you suppose were true – which it isn’t and I take considerable umbrage at you even thinking it might be – you barely know me! Do you commonly walk around prosperous market towns dealing out
scolds to chance-met acquaintances? I should not be surprised at anything your sister does if you are the arbiter of her conduct!’

‘If I had been I should not be here now,’ he fired back cryptically. He seemed to recollect himself. ‘No young lady should be sitting on a public bench alone.’

‘I have told you, I am
not
alone. Also this is Bury St Edmunds, not a fashionable London trysting place. I assure you that even if some disreputable character was so misinformed as to think it worth his while making me the object of his gallantry, I am perfectly capable of administering a set-down!’

‘Now I know you are too young to be out alone. How the devil do you imagine that an untaught female could— Good God!’

This last was said in so altered a tone that Caroline followed his gaze. Fierce satisfaction swept through her at the sight of Harry and Louisa emerging in perfect propriety through the Abbey Gate. ‘An apology would seem to be in order, don’t you think?’ she said icily.

But Lord Rothwell was feeling for his quizzing glass. ‘What a diamond,’ he murmured.

Caroline swallowed down her chagrin. She was familiar with gentlemen being struck dumb by Louisa’s fair beauty and cheerful countenance. She did not know why the surrender of Lord Rothwell’s senses should be so particularly bitter.

Harry widened his eyes at the sight of her companion and looked a query at her. She shrugged to make it plain that his being here was none of her doing.

‘Lord Rothwell,’ said Harry. ‘How pleasant to see you. Miss Taylor, may I present Lord Alexander Rothwell. He is the owner of the spirited grey mare I was telling you about.’

Louisa flashed a delighted smile and held out her hand. ‘I am sure you will not be disappointed, my lord. Penfold Lodge is a most superior stable.’

Lord Rothwell raised Louisa’s hand to his lips. ‘Amazingly so, considering its manager is so often elsewhere. On this occasion, however, one can see why.’

Caroline was used to the difference that a pretty face made to a gentleman’s conduct, but Lord Rothwell’s instantaneous transformation into a man of manners grated even so. ‘Your own estate is profitable, I suppose?’ she asked pointedly.

A glint appeared in his eyes. ‘Happily yes, but I have a bailiff to look after it in my absence.’

‘And Harry has an experienced head groom. It has been charming to meet you again, my lord. Such a shame we must be on our way. Goodbye.’

But Louisa gave a sharply indrawn breath and with a start of alarm Caroline saw the rotund figure of Alderman Taylor rounding the bend of Angel Hill. In a flash she had taken her friend’s arm and swung her so that they were facing the two men. ‘We are meeting everybody today, are we not?’ she cried aloud. ‘Good day, Alderman, you are looking very well. May I introduce you to Lord Alexander Rothwell whose horse Harry has just taken on for training. Lord Rothwell, Alderman Taylor is well known as the finest goldsmith in Bury St Edmunds.’

Lord Rothwell instantly went so rigid with hauteur that she thought he might topple over. To make matters worse, Louisa’s father greeted him far too effusively. He was an astute businessman and in general a man of great sense, except in his obsession with Louisa making a brilliant marriage. Caroline found herself hoping that Lord Rothwell would not depress his pretensions too severely.

‘… quiet, of course, my lord, but I flatter myself that we have several superior attractions here for a man of taste and fashion such as yourself. I very much hope, for instance, that we will have the pleasure of seeing you at our assembly next week?’

Lord Rothwell gave the smallest of stiff inclinations of the head. ‘I shall certainly give the matter my consideration.’

Alderman Taylor beamed. Caroline rushed into speech before he could expose himself even more. ‘Are you on your way home, Alderman? Will you give Louisa your arm? Then Harry may escort me back now instead of returning for me later as we had planned.’

Louisa’s father looked from Harry to Lord Rothwell. ‘Oh, but surely….’

Caroline kept the bright smile on her face. ‘Lord Rothwell plans to visit the ruins. If I have it correctly, he expressed the opinion that great architecture is best experienced in silence and solitude. And I believe the gentlemen have finished their discussion. Is that not so, Harry?’

Her brother had barely opened his mouth to reply when Lord Rothwell cut in. ‘I certainly have no more to say. Good day, Miss Taylor, Alderman, Fortune.’

Caroline bit her lip as he strode away. She had deserved the snub of his not taking leave of her, but she did hope his dislike would not extend itself to Harry.

‘The carriage is at the Angel Hotel, Louisa,’ her father was saying. ‘Well, well, the Duke of Abervale’s son, eh? I daresay there will be time enough before the assembly to have a new gown made up.’

‘Papa, you spoil me. Do you not think it is splendid that Mr Fortune has attracted such an illustrious patron?’

‘Yes, yes, now come along. We must get back to your aunt. Blue, do you think? Or pink? Your mama always looked very handsome in pink. Good day, Miss Caro. I am much obliged to you for walking in this direction with Louisa. Good day, Fortune.’

Caroline and Harry were left on the path. Caroline tucked her arm in her brother’s as they moved towards the inn where he’d left the curricle. ‘He’ll come around, Harry.’

Her brother gave a bitter laugh. ‘I can’t compete with a title, Caro.’

‘You don’t have to. Not in Louisa’s eyes.’

‘Two more years until she’s of age. Anything could happen. Wouldn’t blame her if it did. Dash it, you saw the way Rothwell looked at her.’

‘I have seen the way every gentleman of our acquaintance has looked at her since she was ten years old. She loves
you
.’

‘I wish he hadn’t happened to come by today even so. What
was that all about? You looked to be at daggers drawn.’

‘Lord Rothwell,’ said Caroline trenchantly, ‘did not consider it proper for me to be sitting alone on a bench in broad daylight in the most respectable thoroughfare in Suffolk!’

‘What a slow-top. Good thing he doesn’t know about you shinning down the ivy every morning and riding on the heath in my old clothes.’

Caroline glared. ‘It would not signify if he did!’

Harry wiped the grin from his face. ‘No, of course not. Wish the parents would consent to you living at Penfold Lodge all the time so you didn’t have to, though. It’s damned gloomy with only Bertrand’s mama there. Those knitting needles of hers are driving me to distraction.’

‘You can’t wish it more than me. I shall announce another visit soon, and perhaps they will reconsider entirely after next season when I have failed to take yet again.’

Harry perked up. ‘Yes, very likely. For Selina is near as
well-favoured
as Honoria and is bound to go off, don’t you think? Mama won’t want you hanging around a third time when Eliza comes out.’

Caroline was obliged to swallow her immediate response to this. Harry was the best of brothers, but there were times when he was a little more forthright than was necessary. ‘I will come back with you now at any rate. The more I am to be found at Penfold Lodge, the more everyone will expect me to be there. We shall win them over by attrition yet.’

Alex strode furiously through the imposing stone gate and presently found himself viewing the remains of the once-great abbey with nothing like the reverence such an ancient place should have induced. It was beyond anything! How dare that wretched chit use him to protect her miserable brother from the consequences of his ill-considered assignations! What sort of friend encouraged a young lady in an intrigue which ran counter to her father’s wishes? Wishes that Alex had every sympathy with! Miss Taylor was a veritable beauty and lively
too, if her animated countenance was any guide. It was a crime to waste her on a hey-go-mad puppy like Fortune when even a moderate portion should ensure her success in the marriage mart. Why had she not been presented already? Surely not simply because her father was in trade? The
ton
was littered with instances where money had been bartered for a title. The
beau monde’s
dislike of the shop could not always afford to extend itself to marriage settlements. And a goldsmith was a very superior craftsman indeed. He must ask Miss Fortune for elucidation the next time he spoke to her.

On which thought Alex foundered. His frown returned. He wasn’t
going
to be speaking to Miss Caroline Fortune again. She had forfeited the right to his notice by her appalling behaviour. She was quick enough, he’d concede her that, and in any other young woman he might even admire her loyalty and spirit, but she
presumed
, which was a worse crime in Alex’s book even than being vulgar.