The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley (2 page)

“Someone stole Zephyr six years ago and then
killed him, and two of our horses turned up sick last year. I don’t
know who is behind it, but we can’t take any chances. We must be on
our guard whether Northcotte is at a race meeting or not.”

Lady Joanna Hurst stood at the empty stall
where she’d left her three-year-old colt, Patriot, a short while
earlier. The groom’s uniform was missing along with her horse.
“Robert,” she spat out as if it were a curse. She tossed aside the
trousers she’d stolen from her brother’s room at the inn. Robert
had followed through on his words and found someone to ride
Patriot.

What an inopportune time for him to begin
following through on anything! All her work training Patriot would
be for naught if Robert prevented her from riding him in the race.
She was certain she could pass herself off to the officials as a
young lad. Her own mother had mistaken her for a stable boy often
enough when she wore trousers to work with the horses.

Mama had barred her from entering the
stables for a week after the first time she found her thus, but as
Mama rarely ventured down there, she didn’t see Joanna return to
work the next day. To train a horse properly, one must sit astride.
There was no way around it. And wearing trousers was the only way
to sit correctly.

None of that mattered at the moment,
however. Patriot must win today. Her horse would do anything she
asked of it, except be ridden by a groom he didn’t know. She
searched her mind for something she could do to help her horse
through the change in rider at this late hour, but came up
empty.

Grateful the mud from recent rains had
dried, Joanna rushed off as quickly as her boot heels would allow
in the rough dirt. It was too late to convince Robert to let her
ride, but perhaps talking to Patriot would calm him. Patriot always
listened to her.

Unlike her brother, the horse had some
sense.

As luck would have it, Robert was talking to
a pair of men near the paddock. She bit back an indelicate curse
she’d learned from the grooms. She had to keep her temper
controlled. Schooling her features into a smile suitable for the
most fashionable drawing room, she strolled up and slipped her hand
around her brother’s arm. She spoke in a voice rich with treacle.
“There you are, brother. I’ve been searching for you.”

The look he slanted warned her against
causing a disruption. She batted her lashes in response. “I’m so
excited to watch our horse compete. I couldn’t sit any longer. I
had to come look for him.”

The other two gentlemen nodded. “The thrill
of the race is undeniable,” one agreed.

She didn’t recognize them. They appeared to
be a few years beyond her brother’s thirty years. The second man, a
thin, dark-haired scarecrow with white side-whiskers, peered down
his hawkish nose at her and lifted an imperial brow, but said
nothing.

Robert patted her fingers with enough force
to ring out like a slap. “A lady doesn’t belong here by the
paddock. You might damage those lovely kidskin boots I bought you.
Mother must be wondering where you are.”

He looked across the paddock toward the
grandstands. Suddenly his features went slack and he cursed beneath
his breath. Joanna followed his line of sight and spied two men who
appeared to be watching their little group. She could make out
their features, but didn’t recognize them. Turning to question
Robert, she was interrupted before she had the chance to speak.

Her brother took her arm roughly and nodded
to his companions. “Gentlemen, I’ll look for you after the event.
If you will excuse me, I must make certain my mother does not want
for anything. Come along, Joanna, dear.”

As if she had any choice. She took two steps
for each of her brother’s strides and still she was being dragged.
“Please slow down. Who were those men you were speaking with?”

“Business associates. No one you need know.
You must at least make a pretense at behaving like a lady when we
are in public, if you are ever to marry. I’ll tell Mother you are
to remain at her side, or you won’t be allowed to attend any future
race meetings.”

Allowed to attend
…the very words made
her blood boil. Just a few years ago, Robert was her playmate, or
so he let her believe. The distance in their ages meant they hadn’t
truly been close, with him away at school by the time she was old
enough to remember. But when he was home, he’d taught her chess and
various card games and made her feel important. He often rode the
countryside with her and never once chastised her for riding
astride.

Lately she felt more like an obligation, one
he was searching to end. The pressure he put on her to marry was
quite unbearable. And the restrictions he imposed on her time with
their horses were her biggest concern. A life without horses was
truly not to be borne.

“Robert, please let me catch my breath. Mama
will assume I am ill if I appear before her flushed and
breathless.” She tugged again on the arm he still gripped.

His hand relaxed. “I’m sorry. But I’m only
looking out for your best interests.”

“My best interests would be met by having
Patriot win today.”

“As would mine, but I’ll not allow you to
ride him in the race, so this is the end of that discussion. A
disqualification would be worse than a loss, going forward. Now,
there is Mother in the coffee house, sitting at the window. Please
humor me and stay with her until I come for you both at the end of
the day. Wallis will escort you two to the grandstand when it’s
time for Patriot’s match.”

Joanna bit her tongue on all the retorts
that came to mind. Of course Robert would send his groom to take
them to watch the race, and not be bothered to do so himself. Just
more proof she was a burden and not a pleasant companion. She
entered the crowded eating establishment and made her way to the
small table where Mama sat with her maid. Letting go of the last of
her frustrations, Joanna smiled at them. “How are the scones? Did
you save me any?”

“Of course, dear girl.” Her mother’s sweet,
round face looked pale in the morning light streaming through the
window. Her blue eyes seemed as faded as the blonde hair showing
beneath the edges of the black bonnet she’d continued to wear after
her year of mourning had passed. “I admit, however, I was tempted
to eat these last two if you hadn’t arrived soon.”

Mama poured tea for Joanna and handed her
the cup. When they’d left the inn that morning, Joanna told her
mother she would meet her shortly after checking on Patriot.
Discovering Bruce was ill, followed by her muddled attempt to
replace him as rider in the race, delayed her more than an hour.
Mama must have requested a fresh pot of tea, as the drink was still
quite warm, and it took away the chill of the morning air.

“How is your horse this morning?” Mama
didn’t understand Joanna’s passion, but she humored it.

“He’s frisky and eager to run. But his groom
isn’t. I fear Patriot won’t perform well with another boy on his
back.”

“Oh, dear. And you’ve put so much time in
his training. But this is only the first of many races. He’ll have
his day.”

Yes, Patriot would do well in the future,
but her main concern was whether Robert would continue to let her
attend race meetings, or if she must wait to hear reports of his
activities. She would simply expire from worry if she couldn’t
watch Patriot compete. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then
sighed. She still had hours to wait for the racing to begin.

Joanna contemplated her mother again. The
dark circles beneath her eyes were not as prominent today. “I’m
very pleased you came with me to the race meeting.”

“I always enjoyed the races with your
father. I’m happy to chaperone you here.”

Her words sounded earnest enough, and her
face didn’t contradict them, but given the weeks where Mother would
not even join them for meals, Joanna wondered what had brought
about this gay mood. She would not press the issue, however. She
would simply enjoy her mother’s company for as long as she had
it.

Chapter Two

From the grandstand at the end of the Rowley
Mile course, David waited to hear the roar of the crowd telling him
the horses drew near. He tried to think of anything but Northcotte,
to quell the acid burning in his stomach. Lass was entered in this
event, and though she’d appeared small and slight when she’d warmed
up next to the other horses, David could see she was ready to
compete.

He fidgeted in his seat, straining to see
down the course, watching for the flash of yellow and orange. He
heard the increasing sound of thunder as they grew close.

Knightwick sat silently beside him, but his
arms unfolded and he leaned forward in his seat when the noise grew
louder. The runners appeared at the rise of the hill two furlongs
out, and David spotted orange. Lass was gaining on Whiskey, passing
his flank. “Atta girl,” David called out.

She surged the next furlong on the downhill
side into the Dip, getting a nose out beyond Whiskey and catching
up to Fair Star. As they climbed the final furlong uphill, Lass
closed in on Robin in second place. Canopus held the lead, right up
to the finish.

The judge called out the winning colors for
the first three places, with Lass’s orange and yellow coming in
third.

Knightwick grinned and clapped David on the
back. “Fine run. She did us proud in her first race.”

David sat back in his seat, the tension of
the day finally breaking. Now he could enjoy the rest of the races,
knowing the meeting was not going to be a total loss. “She did do
well, didn’t she? Peter promised me she would. She and Triton both.
We’ll see how the colt does.”

“I wish Father were here to see this.”
Knightwick’s voice barely reached David’s ears under the crowd’s
excited chatter.

“I do, too. Maybe if Triton wins, it will
bring Father around.”

For the past five years, David and
Knightwick had been attending the race meetings without their
father, the Earl of Bridgethorpe. The year before that, their prize
stud horse, a tall, well-muscled black called Zephyr, had been
stolen from the Southampton Race Meeting, and found dead in a
nearby field two weeks later. The three of them had attended the
remaining races that year while waiting to hear the culprit had
been caught. No one had seen anything out of the norm, or if they
had, the man in question held such power and position that no one
would speak up.

Over the following winter, Bridgethorpe lost
the determination to continue the search. “It’s no good, boys. My
heart’s just not strong enough.”

The last time he’d seen his father, David
feared he would not live to see summer. The old man sat at his desk
each day, staring out the window at whatever held his gaze. It was
most likely something in Father’s mind, not the bleak gray weather
and leafless trees beyond the glass. He’d grown thin, his pallor
more pronounced, and he often had a tremor in his right hand.

Knightwick nudged David’s arm, pulling his
thoughts back to the racecourse. “Are you going to meet Peter at
the weigh-in? Collect your winnings?”

“What? Oh, no.” He shook his head and
grinned. “I’m not done winning today.”

He was determined to send home news of a
first place before the weeklong event was through. A win was what
they needed to bring their father back to life.

Joanna grew restless in the grandstand as
the day passed. She longed to be with Patriot, wherever he was. In
the past, she’d attended various race meetings with her family and
lost herself in the market tents, rather than watching other
people’s horses compete. The fortuneteller was always a fun
diversion, even if the grand love she predicted for Joanna had a
different description for the gentleman each time she visited the
woman.