The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley (14 page)

“Perhaps they had trouble getting the horses
lined up to start,” Knightwick suggested.

As he waited, David noticed a familiar face
across the lane. He motioned to his brother. “Is that Tom
Edwards?”

Knightwick waved at the man in question. “It
is. I haven’t seen him since last year at this meeting.” Edwards
returned the greeting.

David glanced back down the road, looking
for the racers. “I’d like to speak to Edwards after this race. He’s
been at most of the race meetings I’ve over the years. He might
have heard something about the poisonings.”

Raising an eyebrow, Knightwick asked, “You
aren’t leaving it to the constable to solve?”

“Whoever killed Zephyr has gotten away with
it. I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

A roar broke out down the course. A short
time later, the lead three horses came into view. David strained to
see around the carriage parked next to them. The lead horse was
large and brown. Patriot. Triton was half a length back. “Come on,
boy,” David encouraged softly.

“Run, come on,” Knightwick called out.

Triton closed on Patriot. A neck behind,
then his nose reached Patriot’s ear. He continued to surge. At the
line, Triton’s head was fully out front. The judge called
Fernleigh’s colors as the winner. David threw his hat up in the
air. “Yes! He did it!”

He and his brother clapped each other on the
back. “Good run,” Knightwick said, his voice thick with pride.
“Father will be pleased.”

Yes, they had more good news for their
father. David accepted the congratulations of the people around
him, then told his brother he’d return shortly. He led Nemo across
the lane in search of Edwards, and found him not far from where
he’d watched the race, now in the shade of a large horse-chestnut
tree.

As David approached, Edwards called out,
“Congratulations, Lumley. That’s a fine runner you have this
year.”

“Thank you. We’re quite pleased with Triton.
He’s nowhere near where Zephyr was as a three-year-old, but he’s
good.”

“There aren’t many like Zephyr,” Edwards
agreed. “How’s Bridgethorpe faring? I never see him at the race
meetings.”

“No, he hasn’t felt up to attending.” David
held back the full details, not comfortable sharing them with just
anyone.

“And what of his nephew, the Lumley boy who
bought his colors?”

“Stephen was injured and came home from the
war last year, just after his parents died.”

Edwards nodded, stroking his chin. “I’d
forgotten about that, your family’s loss. Poor lad. I don’t believe
I’ve met him, but the wife knew his mum. Has Stephen healed
now?”

“As much as possible. You may tell Mrs.
Edwards he is marrying soon and making a new life for himself.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it.”

David steered the conversation in the
direction he’d come to discuss. “Did you hear about the groom who
died at the First Spring meeting?”

“I did. My wife worried I brought home some
horrible illness when she heard.”

“Did they decide his death was natural?”

Edwards’ mouth pursed to one side and he
scratched behind his ear. “Can’t say if I’ve heard what he died
of.”

“I was more concerned he might have been
poisoned. Someone either wanted him dead, or he accidentally drank
what was meant for one of the horses.”

“You think someone is killing our runners? I
know they decided the water was tainted at Chester last year, but
they never came out and said who they thought the target was.”

“Two of our horses were sickened, along with
three others. And Zephyr was poisoned years ago. I think the target
is pretty obvious.”

Edwards frowned. “I hate to think someone
out there is killing perfectly sound horseflesh. What are you
planning to do about it?”

David shrugged. “There isn’t much I can do
unless they solve that groom’s murder. In the meantime, I’m asking
around to see if anyone has heard anything.”

“I’ll keep an ear open and let you know if I
do.”

“I appreciate it.” The sound of a horn rang
out in the distance calling the next entrants to the starting post.
David nodded to the older man. “Please give your wife our best. I
know my mother would send it.”

“And you carry the same back to her, and
tell Bridgethorpe his old chum misses him at the meetings. Good
luck with Triton, he’s a good sound runner.”

David urged Nemo across the lane to fill in
Knightwick on what he’d learned. When his brother returned home
after the races, he could inform their father they were going to
hunt down Zephyr’s killer one way or another. And with any luck,
Father would find some joy in his life again.

If asked later about the ride to London
after the Goodwood race, David was not certain he could have
described the weather, the road, or anyone he and Knightwick might
have passed along the way. His head was in the clouds with Triton’s
win. He glanced at his brother, whose face also gleamed with
pleasure. “I must school my features before I see Mother, or she’ll
think I’m in prime form to be introduced to the daughters of her
friends.”

“She hasn’t already done so? How have you
avoided that?”

“I’m not quite certain. She seems more
concerned with making certain Hannah meets the right men.”

“Or perhaps she thinks you’ve already met
the right young lady.”

David frowned. “There you go again. I’ve
already stated my feelings toward her.”

“You gave me all the reasons why you and
Lady Joanna would not suit, but not once did you deny your
attraction.”

Opening his mouth to do just that, David
found the words stuck in his craw. He coughed. “How could I not be
attracted? She’s lovely, vivacious. Do you know, at the First
Spring Meeting she tried to convince Northcotte to let her ride
Patriot when her groom took ill?”

Knightwick chuckled. “She sounds like
Hannah. That could prove quite a handful as a wife. I think I’d
prefer someone more refined.”

“A hothouse lily, you mean? You don’t think
that would grow dull?” “With all the ups and downs of running an
estate, quiet, tedious evenings would be refreshing.”

He supposed he could understand the
sentiment, but the excitement coursing through him at the moment
kept him from finding it appealing. “I enjoy the challenges that
arise at Fernleigh. I realize one stud property doesn’t compare to
all of Father’s lands. But I think having a wife who is always
agreeable would get dull.”

“Be careful what you ask for…”

“Just to be clear, I’m not looking for a
harpy.” David wiped at the sweat trickling down his hairline.

“What are you looking for?”

“I haven’t given it a whole lot of thought.
Mother mentioned a horsewoman such as Lady Joanna would suit me
well.”

“You had this discussion with Mother? What
were you thinking?” Knightwick cast him a shocked glance.

“She brought it up. I think she was trying
to discern my intentions.”

“She opened the door and you walked through.
You realize once you crossed that threshold you can’t go back. In
Mother’s eyes, you are seeking a wife now.”

David grimaced. “But I’m not. I’ve no need
for one. You aren’t married yet.”

“That has no bearing on your life. It’s an
excuse. Why are you waiting?”

There was a good question. Why was not he
considering marriage, now that he’d met a lady who would fit so
perfectly into his life? The quick and easy answer arose: the
conflict between his family and hers. But was that enough to keep
them apart?

They weren’t the Montagues and Capulets.
Their fathers had never come to blows, or exchanged cross words in
the years David had attended race meetings with Father. At most,
harsh glares punctuated their lack of conversation.

Only one thing potentially stood between him
and Lady Joanna. “What if Northcotte refuses to give his
blessing?”

“Then you must decide whether to sneak off
to Gretna Green or walk away from her.” Knightwick shifted in his
saddle, stretching his legs. “But once more you are avoiding the
only question that matters. Do you love the lady? Do you want
nothing more from life than her eternal happiness?”

“Northcotte is apparently considering
letting her marry Sir Frederick. I would not wish that on any young
lady. She would be miserable. Perhaps I should make an offer to
keep her from that fate.”

“Avoiding…”

“She’s very good with foals. I would
appreciate her opinion on some breeding decisions.”

“Still avoiding.”

“Very well! I admit it, I enjoy being with
her. I look forward to seeing her smile when she first sees me. I
find myself thinking of ways to make her laugh. But is that love,
or am I simply encouraging her to stroke my ego?”

“It’s certainly a good start. I’m obviously
the wrong person to tell you what love feels like. You are the only
one who can say if your feelings are enough to make you certain you
can’t live without her.”

Live without Lady Joanna. Sit back and let
her marry Sir Frederick and bear him children. Wait until the mood
struck David to start a nursery and choose the first available
debutant in London. Is that what he wanted?

A bitter taste filled David’s mouth at the
idea of Sir Frederick touching her, having control over her.
Realizing much of what he felt was a protective instinct, he knew
he couldn’t walk away from Lady Joanna. However, he did have
feelings for her, to whatever degree, and she would make him a good
wife. If he didn’t love her now, he would in time. Of that, he was
certain.

Now he needed to convince her—and her
brother—he was the perfect husband for her.

Chapter Eleven

Joanna stood beside Aunt Ophelia in yet
another glamorous ballroom, this one decorated in Greek fashion
with fake columns and large stone urns spaced out along the walls.
Enormous ferns, small citrus trees, and palms planted in the urns
broke up the harsh white decor. Although the guests weren’t
required to wear masks, they all wore Grecian gowns and togas.
Joanna had laurel leaves pinned among the braids wrapped around her
head. Her gown, only one side of which came over her shoulder, was
a ridiculous garment. The braided gold cord that nipped in the
flowing gown at her waist was the only thing keeping her from
looking as if she wore a burlap sack. Or a fine linen one. Her
sandals, with their ribbons wrapped up her ankles, were a bit of a
treat, however. They felt almost as if she were barefoot in public,
quite scandalous, and one she found she liked. It would not do to
wear such shoes around the horses, though.

Amelia and Lady Hannah were dressed in a
similar fashion. The two young ladies joined her in observing the
growing crowd before the dancing began. Rising on her toes to look
over the shoulders around them, Amelia asked, “Has anyone seen Sir
Richard?”

“I haven’t.” Joanna was more concerned about
another man’s presence. Lady Hannah hadn’t mentioned which of her
brothers had accompanied her, but it was quite possible Mr. David
Lumley had returned from Goodwood by now.

As Joanna thought this, another brother,
Trey appeared and bowed to them. “Ladies, you all look well. Who
has room for me on their dance cards?”

He was a kind young man, Joanna admitted,
but still had a bit of youthful padding to his face, and
fair-colored side-whiskers sparse enough to make one wonder if he
were required to shave more than once a week. He was a bit
ungraceful on the dance floor, but always made her laugh at his
wit. “I’ve some dances open. Which do you prefer?”

Trey reserved a dance from each of them, and
moved on to find other partners. Joanna resigned herself to another
ball without Mr. Lumley, and prayed Sir Frederick was not in
attendance. That would make a bad evening worse by tenfold. Or
more.

Joanna laughed at something Amelia said,
then she heard a familiar chuckle behind her. She turned, suddenly
warm and trembling, holding back the excited grin his voice always
brought. “Mr. Lumley, I see you’ve returned safely from the race
meeting. Congratulations on your win.”

He bowed over her hand. “Thank you. Patriot
gave us a good run for our money. It’s grand to finally beat your
horse.”

Her lips trembled with restraint as she
tilted her head to one side. “No modesty in the win? I see you’re
more the type to gloat.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying
hard to maintain a stern affect.

“The next time Triton bests Patriot, you can
be assured I’ll be all that is polite. But for the moment, yes, I’m
going to gloat and take in all the glory I can.”

“Yes, because we, as owners, are due all the
glory of the work our horses put in.”

His eyes lit with laughter. “Just so. I’ve
taken every step alongside that animal as he learned to run fast. I
must say I’m quite done in.”