To Win the Lady (21 page)

She laughed
suddenly. ‘Are you saying, Major Baverstock, that you value my opinion?’

‘Indeed I am,’
he confirmed, doing his best to maintain a serious expression. ‘Two heads are
always better than one, are they not? Do say you’ll come.’

‘Oh, very
well.’ She tried to sound offhand but the prospect was already exciting her. It
had been like that the first time she had been taken there by her father. The
noisy crowds, the betting, the beautiful horses, the jockeys in their colourful
breeches and caps all served to create an atmosphere that was unique and heady.

‘Do you think
Dawson can spare Tom to ride up behind?’ he asked. ‘I am not such a coxcomb as
to keep a tiger.’

He had realised
the necessity for a chaperon, after all, and one of her own staff would be more
acceptable than his. It was very thoughtful of him. She smiled mischievously.
‘And would you wish him to dress in black and yellow stripes?’

‘As he will be
behind us and I shall not see what he is wearing, it is a matter of
indifference to me.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘Perhaps something a little less
loud, perhaps? It would be best if we did not attract too much attention.’

Yes, she
thought, because if they were seen by anyone of the ton it would be all round
the capital in a couple of days, and though the outing was innocent enough and
they had a legitimate reason for going and Tom was in attendance it might just
be considered too daring of her. Not that she cared for herself, but Felicity
must be protected from the least whisper of gossip.

He took his
leave, leading the two new horses, and she went indoors to decide what she was
going to wear the following day - certainly not a shirt and breeches.

It had taken
Fanny, with the help of Mrs Thorogood, two days to clean and repair her clothes
after their mistreatment by the highwaymen and being bundled willy-nilly back
into her trunk but they had done their best and most were still wearable. She
picked out a jacket in a soft blue jaconet which fitted her figure closely,
curving into her neat waist and then flaring out a little over a flowing skirt
of shot silk. The jacket had a stand-up collar and was frogged in black across
the front. Her tall hat had a curling brim and an ostrich feather which was
fastened on one side and swept across the brim to brush her cheek on the other
side. She offered up a little prayer of thanks to her aunt for making her buy
it. Now was not the time to worry about what it had cost.

‘You look a
treat, Miss Georgie,’ Fanny said as she twirled before her the next morning. It
was not for her to criticise the actions of her beloved mistress, but she
fervently hoped that no one, not Miss Georgie or Miss Felicity, or indeed that
nice Major, would be hurt by it. ‘The Major is waiting downstairs.’

Georgie went
down to meet him, conscious of the excitement which bubbled up in her and was
making her tremble and blush. What a ninny you are, she told herself; you are
only going to the races and he is only a man. But what a man!

He had taken
equal care with his appearance. Although his mulberry-coloured coat was a
civilian one, it was cut in the military style and fitted him to perfection.
His plain waistcoat had silver buttons and his cravat was a pristine white tied
very simply and not in the complicated fashion prevalent in London. He wore
buff-coloured nankeen breeches and hessians in which it was possible to see
your reflection, supposing you were to stand close enough.

He looked up at
her coming down the stairs towards him and caught his breath. Not for the first
time he found himself comparing the strikingly beautiful woman she undoubtedly
was with the ragamuffin urchin clad in breeches and voluminous shirt,
pretending to be a man. She could never be a man, not in a thousand years, and
he wished he could make her see that.

He realised
suddenly that she had reached the bottom step and he was still staring at her
as if mesmerised. He pulled himself together and went towards her, taking her
outstretched hand and bowing over it. It was trembling a little, he noticed,
and her cheeks were pale. ‘Miss Paget, good morning,’ he said. ‘Are you quite
well enough to go?’

‘Of course I
am. And I do not intend to miss a single race, so let us by on our way. Is Tom
there?’

‘Yes, and proud
as a peacock in his Sunday go-to-church suit.’

They approached
Newmarket across the heath and arrived at the course about noon. Race week
attracted all manner of people from the highest to the lowest who rubbed
shoulders together, often quite literally, to the detriment of expensive
tailored coats and the pockets of the same, for pickpockets also abounded.

Everywhere
people were making bets and shouting the odds. Young bloods, noisy and already
half foxed, mixed with the more sober race-goers. In the paddock, the horses
paraded restlessly, waiting to go to the start. Jockeys in light breeches in
red, yellow, green and blue with caps to match were almost swallowed by the
crowd as they made their way to be weighed in.

As Richard
drove in among the huge variety of conveyances taking up their positions all
round the railing, there was a concerted shout of, ‘They’re off!’ and six
horses thundered round the track to the shouted encouragement of their backers.

Richard watched
in amusement as Georgie stood up in the curricle in order to see better,
jumping up and down in excitement. He looked at Tom and grinned; if she did not
tip them all out it would be a wonder. ‘Would you like to put a bet on the next
race?’ he asked her.

She had heard
him but she was too absorbed in the race to answer until it had ended, when she
sat down, almost too breathless to speak. ‘Yes, let’s go and have a closer look
at the runners,’ she said when she had composed herself.

Leaving Tom to
look after the curricle, they made their way through the crowds to the paddock
and after inspecting the horses she picked one out.

‘Right,’ he
said. `I’ll back it too. You see how much faith I have in you?’

‘Oh, dear,’ she
said. ‘What if it loses?’

‘Then we shall
both have lost our money.’

‘Then, I beg of
you, risk only a modest sum.’

He laughed,
almost carefree. ‘As you say, a modest sum. A guinea perhaps? It is seven to
one.’

They won on the
next two races and lost on the third. After that, not being a true gambler,
Georgie was reluctant to continue, but he laughed and said, ‘You can’t win them
all, Georgie. Put on what you have won, then if you lose at least you won’t be
out of pocket.’ He seemed not to have noticed that he had called her by her
given name, and she had no intention of drawing his attention to the fact.

‘Very well. No
more after this. And then I think we should think about finding a jockey for
Bright Star. I have been watching them most carefully and there was one I
thought might suit. He was in the third race.

‘The one you backed?’

‘Yes.’

‘He lost you
your money.’

‘So he did, but
he did well to come second and I liked the way he rode.’

‘Do I get a say
in this? It is my horse, after all.’

She turned to him
in surprise at the reminder. They had been having such a wonderful time and the
note of censure dampened her spirits, but then she noticed the twinkle in his
dark eyes and relaxed. ‘I didn’t mean to dictate, but I am sure he is the best.
If you don’t agree, we shall have to compromise. Tell me your choice.’

He laughed, a
deep cheerful sound, in keeping with the man himself. ‘Oh, my dear Miss Paget,
I would not presume to disagree with you.’

‘Now you are
bamming me.’

He smiled and
took her arm. ‘Let us see if he is available, shall we? And after that we’ll go
to the sales ring.’

The jockey was
engaged and, after some discussion, because Georgie was convinced that stamina
rather than speed was required, Richard bought two good strong horses. ‘Have
them delivered to Rowan Park,’ he told the auctioneer. ‘Miss Paget will be
training them.’

If there was a
snigger on the man’s face it was quickly wiped off when Richard glared at him.
He shook hands on the deal and promised to have the animals at Rowan Park two days
hence.

‘I am
overwhelmed, Major,’ she said as they walked away. ‘Are you not afraid of being
made a laughing stock?’

‘No,’ he said
promptly. ‘Are you?’

‘Most decidedly
not. I shall prove myself, you see.’

‘All alone?’
His voice was soft, sensuous almost, and she gave a little shiver of
apprehension. She had not minded the idea of managing alone until now. Today
they had done things together, laughed together, won and lost together, and
they had been surprisingly at one over their choice of horses. Even the hiring
of the jockey and the purchase of the mounts had produced no more than a
friendly exchange. There had been no discord. Togetherness was something she
had tasted for the first time today and it looked like being the last. With him
as her brother-in-law, she could ask his advice, but it wouldn’t be the same.

‘Yes,’ she said
firmly. ‘Alone but for my family. I shall always look to them for support.’

He understood
the implication of what she was saying without having to be told; he would be
part of that family, her sister’s husband. He had been deliberately
prevaricating, not the behaviour of an honourable man, he knew, and the longer
he allowed himself to drift, the worse it would get. Tomorrow he must return to
London and set matters straight.

The sunny day
suddenly became cool and the cheerful crowds seemed over-noisy and
ill-mannered. He put a hand under her elbow to guide her back to the curricle,
where Tom waited for them. They had almost reached it when she stopped
suddenly.

‘Look!’ she
exclaimed. ‘Those men...’

He turned
towards the group of bedraggled men she indicated. ‘What about them?’

‘They are the
three who accosted us outside Bullock’s Museum, don’t you remember?’

‘So they are.’

‘And they
rescued us when his lordship’s coach was held up the other day. Did he not tell
you about that?’

‘Indeed he
did.’ He handed her up into the carriage. ‘Pray stay here with Tom, Miss Paget;
I must go and speak to them.’

He left her to
push his way through to the three men, who were standing by the rails, though
the last race had finished and the crowds were drifting away. Corporal Batson
saw him and came swiftly to attention. He looked incongruous, ragged, unshaven,
with the toe coming off his boot.

Richard smiled.
‘At ease, man, you’re not in the army now.’

The man
relaxed. ‘We were on the way to Dullingham House, Major, like you said, but we
thought we’d ‘ave a flutter first. You never know when your luck is in, do
you?’

‘I should say
your luck was in when we met in London. Why did you not take advantage of my
offer immediately?’

‘We started
out. Had to walk, you know...’

‘I gave you
enough for a fare.’

‘Food were more
important, Major. And we sent most of the cash home.’

‘Of course, I
should have realised. But my father also gave you money; I suppose that is all
gone too?’

‘It is now,’
one of the others said, smiling ruefully. ‘The nags were all sheep.’

Richard smiled.
‘Will you go to Dullingham House now? It is not above a dozen miles away.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank
you, sir.’ This last as Richard handed him a few coins.

‘And thank you
for rescuing my father.’

‘It were
nothing,’ the Corporal said. ‘Did ‘e tell you what ‘appened?’

‘He said the
coach was held up but you drove off the attackers.’

‘That all he
said, sir?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘They meant to
kill ‘is lordship. He didn’t resist nor anything like that, but one o’ them
took ‘im to one side. He had a barkin’ iron and he was goin’ to use it, too. I
let pop with mine and killed him dead.’

Richard did not
ask how the soldier came to have a weapon; it was no doubt a souvenir from the
war. ‘He didn’t tell me anything of this.’

‘Just afore I
let fly, I heard one on ‘em say, "Make it look good." Now why should
‘e say that, less’n he meant to make it look like a high toby job when it
weren’t that at all? Someone’s got it in for the old fellow, that’s what I
says.’

Richard could
not think who would wish his father dead; he had no enemies that he knew of. In
fact, he was well-liked by everyone: friends, employees and tenants. ‘Thank you
for telling me,’ he said.

‘No thanks
needed, Major. We ‘ad our eye on the main chance, but your young lady soon put
a stop to that. Brave young miss, she be, and not afraid to speak out.’

Richard smiled.
‘Yes, indeed. But you may do me another small service.’

‘Anything,
Major.’

‘Go to
Dullingham House as soon as maybe and take whatever situation his lordship
offers you. I will double your wages if you keep an eye out for him. If anyone
else tries to harm him, I want to know at once. Protect him, if you can.’