The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley (27 page)

“She is headstrong,” David agreed. “But
perhaps that quality will see her through this. How did she become
ill?”

“Patriot’s groom said she watched him while
he brushed Patriot and cleaned his hooves after the race. Outside
his stall were some oatcakes wrapped in a cloth that an old woman
had given him earlier. Joanna mentioned being hungry, and the groom
offered her some.”

Northcotte rose and began to pace. “During
the night, my sister awoke complaining of stomach pains. She
vomited for several hours, and eventually fell back asleep. Her
maid tended to her, expecting her to wake in the morning feeling
better. But she would not waken.”

“Do you suspect there was something in the
oatcakes?” David asked.

“The groom took ill that night also, but he
recovered the next morning. He only ate one cake, and he believes
Joanna had at least two. I’ve no idea what was in them. The groom
didn’t know the woman who gave them to him. He just assumed she was
a villager with a generous heart.”

“If he recovered so quickly, there is a good
change she will, too.” Knightwick looked at David as he said this,
his voice reassuring.

“What does the doctor say?”

Northcotte stopped and looked toward the
closed door where his sister lay. “He says she is strong and
healthy, and should recover. He doesn’t understand why she still
sleeps, though. I fear—” He didn’t finish the thought.

David nodded. “Someone intended to kill your
groom. Why? You have other men who can ride Patriot. Why not kill
the horse, if the idea was to keep him from competing?”

“I don’t know. I thought Patriot might have
been his original target, until I spoke with the groom. As it was,
I ordered the stallion be returned to Hampshire immediately, to be
safe. If my sister recovers, it would kill her to learn her horse
was dead.”

His chest tightening, David snapped at his
choice of words. “She will recover. We have to believe it. We can’t
do anything to help her at this point. Except find the man who did
this.”

“And let the magistrate deal with him,”
Knightwick warned.

David met his brother’s glare, returning it
with all the anger and frustration burning within. “I can’t
guarantee what I’ll do when I find him.”

Knightwick’s lips thinned, but he didn’t
comment. He turned to Northcotte. “Have you attempted to locate the
old woman?”

“I’ve had all my men question everyone they
meet, as well as inquiring at the pubs. There are a few women who
sell cakes and meat pies on the street. The groom hasn’t recognized
any of them.”

“If Sir Frederick is behind it,” David said,
“you can wager she has been removed to another shire.”

“Why do you assume he did it?” his brother
asked.

“I assume you repaid your debt after I
bought Patriot.” David said to Northcotte. “Within a matter of
days, someone attempts to keep your horse from running. I’ve met
Sir Frederick, spoken with him when Joanna was there. I don’t think
it’s money that drives him. He seems to thrive on holding the
vowels of men who are above him in society.”

“True,” said Knightwick. “He is known to
prefer loaning money to titled men. One might suggest they have a
greater income with which to repay him, but their money is usually
entailed. Any funds at their disposal have obviously been depleted
by the time they come to him. He knows he cannot claim the title to
the encumbered properties, so why does he accept their IOUs at
all?”

Northcotte pursed his lips. “He has accepted
thoroughbreds as collateral. He frequents the race meetings, and is
well known by many of those who have entered runners. Why would he
want to loan money against these horses, when he could afford to
buy them outright?”

David crossed his arms over his chest.
“Would you have sold Patriot, had he asked?”

“Of course not. Aside from finally having a
runner who could bring my stud back to profitability, Joanna loves
that horse above all the others.”

Now David took up pacing to help him think.
“Aside from finding the old woman, how can we prove who is behind
this?”

A knock on the door interrupted David’s
thoughts. Northcotte crossed the room and opened the door. Allowing
the man to step inside, he introduced him to the others. “Lord
Knightwick, Mr. Lumley, this is Mr. Grimford, who is working with
the local magistrate to solve this.”

The portly man took off his hat and nodded.
“My lords, I bring news rather than answers. This morning a groom
was found unconscious in the stables. He’d been hit with a shovel
on the back of his head. He’ll survive, but he didn’t see his
attacker.”

“Who does the groom work for?”

“Lord Apperly.”

Knightwick shook his head. “I don’t know the
man. How many horses had he entered?”

“Just the one, my lord.”

Looking at his brother, Knightwick
commented, “And if that horse doesn’t run, he has no chance of
winning, no chance at the purse.” Speaking to the investigator, he
said, “Find out if Apperly owes money to Sir Frederick Ardwen. He
might try to deny borrowing from a moneylender, but we have reason
to think that man is the connection between several ‘accidents’ at
race meetings in recent years.”

“Very good, my lord. I’ll look into it.”
Grimford paused as he turned to leave. “How fares Lady Joanna? Is
she recovering?”

“It’s too soon to tell.” Northcotte opened
the door for the man. “The doctor believes she has a chance,
though.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, my lord. She’s too
bonny a lass to die like this.”

David shuddered, then quickly schooled his
thoughts to a positive outlook. Joanna would get better. He
considered the series of poisonings and injuries at the meetings to
distract himself. One thing concerned him about the idea Sir
Frederick was behind Zephyr’s death. “To your knowledge,” he asked
his brother, “Did Father ever borrow money?”

“No, he’s never needed to. When he took to
his rooms and I began helping run the estates, all the books were
in order, our finances were what I expected to find.”

“Then Sir Frederick had no reason to cause
problems for Bridgethorpe or Fernleigh Stud. Why would he want
Zephyr dead?” Pacing the length of the carpet, David tried to
connect the incidents. “I asked Father if he had any connection
with the man, and he said no. What would Sir Frederick have to gain
by Zephyr’s death?”

Northcotte sat with them again. “We know my
father was borrowing from the man at the time Zephyr died. Sir
Frederick probably knew he stood no chance of being repaid as long
as your horse kept winning.”

It didn’t make sense to David. “There were
plenty of race meetings where Zephyr was not entered. Why didn’t
your father enter some of those? He had some good runners. He would
have won some decent purses. Or he could have challenged for some
matches outside the meetings. Bridgethorpe said he did that often
when they were young.”

“I believe it was personal by then. I don’t
know why he singled out Bridgethorpe, but my father was obsessed
with beating him.”

From the doorway to Joanna’s room came the
maid’s voice. “My lord, my lady is awake.”

David and Northcotte ran to her bedside.
Joanna moved about, turning her head from side to side. She mumbled
something unintelligible. Reaching her first, David put a hand on
her shoulder. “Shhh, it’s all right. Do you hear me?”

Her movements quieted, but her eyes didn’t
open. “Hurts.”

“What hurts? What can I do for you?” David
pushed her hair back off her face, his heart clenching at the
shadows beneath her eyes.

“Everything hurts.”

David looked at the maid. “Did the doctor
leave some powders for her?”

“Yes, sir. They’re over here, sir.”

“Prepare a glass for her, then.” He put his
arm around her and helped her sit, her eyelids fluttering as she
groaned.

“Mr. Lumley? Why are you here? Robert, what
is this about? Why are you both in my room?”

“All is well now, Joanna,” Northcotte said.
“You’ve been ill. We’ve been worried.”

The maid returned with the glass and gave it
to Joanna, who drank it, her face twisting in distaste. “Oh, that
is horrid. What are you giving me?”

David smiled. “Something the doctor left for
you. I hope it will ease your pain.”

She leaned heavily against David’s arm, and
he let her rest on the pillow. She sighed and her eyes closed.

“Do you want to sleep?” he asked.

“I am hungry.”

David asked the maid to fetch some soup, or
something easy to eat. “I will let the doctor know you’ve
awakened.”

Knightwick spoke from the doorway. “I’ll see
to it.”

David nodded in thanks. “May I bring in
another chair and keep her company?” he asked Northcotte.

“Joanna, would you like some company for a
short spell?”

She licked her lips and offered a small
smile. “Yes.”

Northcotte returned to the sitting room
while David carried in a chair. As soon as he sat near the bed,
David took a moment to say a prayer of thanks. “I can’t tell you
how relieved I am to hear your voice.”

“Why are you here? I’m sorry, that sounds
ill mannered of me. Did you enter Triton in one of the sweepstakes
at Ascot Heath?”

He leaned his elbows on his knees, so
relieved she was willing to speak with him, he didn’t care how rude
she might be. “No. Your brother sent word you were ill, and asked
our assistance in finding who did this to you. But I would have
come without his request.”

“Who did what to me? Why do I hurt so? Was I
attacked?”

“No. There must have been something put in
the oatcakes you and the groom ate, as you both took ill after
eating them.”

“Is the boy recovered?”

“He is well. He didn’t eat as many cakes as
you.”

She closed her eyes, sinking more deeply
into the pillow. “Thank goodness. He is a kind lad, very good with
Patriot.”

“Do you wish to rest? I don’t want to
overtire you.”

“I wish to eat most of all. I am
starving.”

He chuckled. “Something will be brought up
soon. This sort of establishment must be used to offering meals at
odd hours.”

“Mr. Lumley, thank you for coming to see
me.”

“I should think you might call me David by
now.”

Her eyes blinked open. “But we—that is, I
didn’t…”

“I am aware you did not accept my proposal.
We can discuss that when you are well.” He cleared his throat. “If
you don’t wish to renew our acquaintance, I’ll respect that. But
I’ll find who did this to you. His deed won’t go unpunished.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

A week later, Joanna and Robert were at home
in Eaton Place, their lives seemingly normal again. Robert spent
his time in his office, or away from the town house. Joanna sat in
her room reading or writing letters to her friends in Hampton. She
had no strength, no desire to go out for a walk or a ride. For the
first time in her life, resting was the only thing that appealed to
her.

Resting, however, gave her too much time to
think about how foolish she was to have trusted Mr. Lumley. Her
heart continued to ache, and an emptiness had taken up residence
inside her where happiness should reside. She loved him, or her
affections had begun to turn to love. She might always love him,
keeping her from considering another man as husband. Being able to
trust again would be difficult, that she knew. How did one tell the
difference between true love and a false imitation of it?

On the eighth day, when Starley came to tell
her Amelia was calling, she allowed her friend to come in. Not
wishing to appear the invalid by remaining in her room, Joanna met
her in the morning room. “How happy I am to see you again.”

Amelia returned her hug. “I’ve missed you
terribly. There have been so many times in the past two weeks where
I’ve turned to tell you something at an assembly only to remember
you aren’t there.”

“Tell me now. Who is dancing with whom? Have
any betrothals been announced? Has Sir Richard made his feelings
plain?”

“I believe he is close. He left Town for a
few days but said he’d call on me when he returns. I’m so excited,
I can’t sit still.” She suddenly sobered. “What of you? Has your
brother said anything more about Sir Frederick?”

“No. I don’t know whether he’s afraid to
start another row with me, or if he believes I’ve an understanding
with Mr. Lumley.”

Amelia shook her head. “I still don’t
understand how you came to turn him down. You were so excited about
his attentions.”

Joanna couldn’t reveal the whole tale, even
to her dear friend. She was ashamed on some level, both that her
family could have been involved in the scandals Mr. Lumley had
accused them of, and that she had fallen in love with a man who
would abuse her friendship the way he had. “I couldn’t accept him
once I learned the kind of man he is. He never loved me.”

“I saw how he looked at you. Even Sir
Richard doesn’t gaze at me that way. My cousin and her husband
spent hours staring into each other’s eyes like that before she
married, and they are happy still, four years later.”

“Your cousin’s husband didn’t gain her
affections under false pretenses.” Pain still stabbed at her heart
when she recalled his words in her brother’s study. “Please, can we
not discuss it anymore?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to distress you.
What will you do now that the Season is ending?”

“My aunt has agreed to let me stay in Bath.
Northcotte hasn’t given me permission yet, but I am still
recovering from my illness. The waters there will be good for
me.”

“My offer still stands for you to visit
us.”

“Won’t you be planning your wedding?”

Amelia shrugged. “If I am, you can help me
decide between roses and lilies for my bouquet.” Her eyes suddenly
widened. “Oh, dear, will that be too difficult for you, with all
that has happened? I am the worst of friends to not think of
you.”