Charity’s countenance remained placid, but lost some of its usual color. “Mr. Montgomery . . . Ralph . . . do not say so. You can scarce know me after a few weeks in the same house. You and your family have been so kind to me. I feel sure you are mistaken in your feelings, though I am honored by your interest in me. I must tell you that I have no intention of marrying ever, Ralph, though I would beg you not to speak of that to anyone, even Kate. I shall . . . always hold you in the greatest affection.” Charity rose abruptly and turned her back to him so that he would be unable to see her swiftly brush away the tear that escaped.
Ralph rose, too, and stood helplessly gazing at her back. “I had hoped we could have a home of our own, build a modest house on the farm, or live on the estate near Rugby,” he said despondently.
“Say no more, I beg you,” she gasped, digging in her reticule for the wisp of lace which must serve to stem the flow of tears which she could no longer withhold.
“I’ve distressed you!” Ralph cried, mortified, as he saw her furtively put the handkerchief to her eyes. “Wouldn’t do so for the world! Forgive me! I’m the clumsiest of fellows.” He distractedly forced his hand through his thick blond hair, making it stand on end.
Charity turned to soothe his agitation, and a hysterical desire to laugh at the sight of his upright hair checked the flow of her tears. He looked so forlorn in his despair that her already overburdened heart could take no more, and she fled without another word. Ralph watched her retreat in numb hopelessness. He finally gathered his wits about him enough to head for the stables.
“My curricle, Harris,” he ordered absently, “with the bays.” When this vehicle was ready, he asked, “Should be a full moon tonight, what?”
“Yes, a fine evening,” Harris responded as he stood patiently at the horses’ heads.
“I shall go alone. Send word to the Hall that I may spend the night at Mr. Karst’s.”
“Very good, sir,” the groom replied. He could see that Mr. Montgomery was upset, and it would no doubt be wiser for him to stay the night with his friend if he were in his cups, as Harris felt sure he would be.
But it was not Ralph’s plan that he should spend the evening with Benjamin before a warming fire, a glass of brandy in his hand. It had occurred to him that they had too long put off their night race to Bath and back. The weather appeared likely to hold; there was no sign of fresh snow. The dull gray sky surmounted a landscape deep frozen with no sign of thaw. Although the roads were rutted and uneven from the previous thaw and freeze, they were perfectly negotiable; there was little chance of a curricle being mired down.
Ralph found Benjamin in the library, studying some literature on horse breeding. They spent some time discussing their plans before Ralph suggested that their race be held that very evening.
“I thought you’d forgotten it,” Benjamin declared. “It’s been difficult to get you away from the Hall these last few weeks.”
“I hadn’t forgotten. Tonight should be a full moon. May not have better for months. Are you game?”
Benjamin smiled widely. “You’re on. Still fifty guineas?”
“Yes, to the Nowland farm, turn, and back here. Start at ten?”
“So late?”
“Should be less traffic then, but it makes no difference to me.”
“Ten it shall be. You stay to dine, of course.”
Their race was conducted over a course of rutted, winding country lanes by the light of a pale full moon. The lead changed several times in spite of the narrow way, with first Benjamin’s scarlet and then Ralph’s blue curricle in the fore. Across deserted fields to avoid a flock of geese, or swinging around a bend at high speed, the two young men called to one another cheerfully or sang at the tops of their voices. For this short space of time Ralph could involve himself in the race and thrust aside his despondent thoughts.
On the return journey Benjamin was in the lead and Ralph saw his last chance of overtaking him as they approached a bend wide enough for both curricles. His mood had become reckless, and while Benjamin took the turn cautiously, Ralph determined to make his move before his bays flagged entirely. Around the bend he heard only the slightest touching of the wheel against the bank, and he steadied his horses onto the stretch ahead. But he had not been able to see the road ahead, and he was suddenly faced with a country lad unconcernedly plodding along on his old nag. Ralph cursed wildly as he tried to bring the bays to the side of the road.
Although he managed to avoid doing the lad and his horse a mischief, his leader stumbled and the already swaying curricle was flung against the bank of the road. Benjamin watched horrified as Ralph was flung from the curricle against the bank and onto the road. The bays stumbled to a shuddering halt while Benjamin dexterously skirted the accident and drew in his own team. He leaped to the ground even as they slowed and raced to his friend. He found Ralph in pain but conscious.
“Are you all right?” Benjamin asked anxiously.
“Don’t know. See to the horses, will you?”
“When I’ve had a look at you. Can you get up?”
“Can’t be sure. Give me a hand and I’ll try.” But Ralph gasped with agony as he tried to rise, and his arm hung limply at his side. His face was scraped and muddy, his clothes (including Benjamin’s borrowed driving coat) torn, and his hat gone. “Leave me a minute and see to the horses,” he begged.
Benjamin returned to tell him that the wheeler was lame but that no bones appeared to be broken. “Your curricle is a mess, the wheel smashed and the axle damaged, too, I think, though it is difficult to see in this poor light.”
“God, I’m an idiot. I should know better than to come round a blind corner like that.”
“Bad luck. You’d have made it if it hadn’t been for that lad.” This person was still sitting astride his horse, staring at the confusion in the road. He made no remark and no attempt to help.
“Can you get me to your curricle?” Ralph asked.
Benjamin surveyed the taller man dubiously. When he had made an unsuccessful attempt, he called to the lad to give him a hand. This seemed to inspire the fellow to dig his heels into his horse, which startled that sluggish beast so much that he took off at a trot. Benjamin returned his attention to his companion and was considerably shaken when another voice met his ears. He had not been aware that anyone else was on the scene, and had thought the hoofbeats he heard were those of the departing lad.
“What now?” the Earl of Winterton asked wearily, surveying the disorder with a jaundiced eye.
“Ralph has smashed his curricle, and I could use some help to get him to mine, Lord Winterton,” Benjamin explained.
“Broken anything, Montgomery?” Winterton asked as he leisurely dismounted.
“How should I know?” Ralph flared. “I can’t stand, and my left arm is useless.”
“It’s better than being dead,” Winterton remarked roughly. “I gather you two fools were racing.” He unfastened the driving coat and probed Ralph’s arms and legs to the accompaniment of the younger man’s stifled grunts of pain. “Legs are probably only sprained, but the arm is broken. Give me a hand, Karst, and we’ll put him in your curricle.” When this had been accomplished, Ralph gritting his teeth the while, Winterton continued, “Take him to the Manor.”
“That will not be necessary, Lord Winterton,” Benjamin retorted stiffly. “I shall take him home with me. Thank you for your assistance.”
“The Manor is half a mile and your home not much less than three,” the Earl mused. “If you are lucky, he will faint shortly from the pain and the additional distance will then not matter to him, of course. The arm should be set immediately.” Winterton mounted his horse, nodded to the two young men, and rode off.
“Haughty bastard!” Benjamin exclaimed as he gave his horses the office to start. Ralph’s gasp at the movement caused his friend to survey him critically, noting the pallor of his forehead and cheeks. “Shall it be the Manor?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes,” Ralph sighed.
They turned down the lane after Winterton, who had of course, assumed they would follow and proceeded to the Manor stables. When they arrived he had completed arrangements for removing Ralph’s curricle and horses from the road to his own stables. He had already issued orders to two sleepy grooms; one to fetch the doctor and another to inform the housekeeper that a bedroom on the ground floor should be prepared immediately. Ralph was carried into the great hall, across the black and white marble floor and through a maze of corridors which ran past the breakfast room, the china room, and the map room until the West Room was finally reached, much to his relief. He was deposited on the bed, while the housekeeper watched from the doorway.
“Has Thomas been awakened by the bustle, Mrs. Pettit?” Winterton asked her.
“Yes, my lord. He’s in the library.”
“Good. Send him to me, and have Crocker bring a nightshirt and some brandy for Mr. Montgomery, please.”
Thomas Single, Lord Winterton’s secretary, arrived almost immediately and stood slightly smiling in the doorway. “Just a quiet evening in Bristol,” he murmured.
Winterton grinned at him and said, “Mind your manners, Thomas. I think you know Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Karst. It seems they had an accident while racing. It was just our good fortune that it should occur so close,” he remarked mournfully. “Would you send a note to the Montgomerys assuring them that there is no dire threat to Ralph and that a doctor has been sent for?”
As the young man turned to leave he added, “And, Thomas, make it plain that I do not wish to have a gaggle of females descend on me in the middle of the night. Suggest ten in the morning as an appropriate time for anyone to call.”
“Certainly, Lord Winterton,” Thomas replied, repressing a smile.
Ralph attempted to raise himself, gave up the effort with a wince, and said, “You need not inform them until the morning, Lord Winterton. They do not expect me back tonight.”
“All the better. Arrange for the note to be sent off in the morning then, Thomas.”
“Certainly, sir.”
The valet, Crocker, arrived next with brandy and a nightshirt. After Ralph had been supported for a few sips, Winterton directed his valet to undress and clean the young man of his mud. Winterton led Benjamin to the White Parlor and offered him a drink, which the young man gladly accepted. “Shall I have a room made ready for you, Karst?” he asked courteously.
“Thank you, no, sir. I shall just stay until the doctor has seen Ralph, if you don’t mind.”
“As you wish, though it may be some time before he arrives. I understand the two of you are purchasing the Drew farm with some idea of breeding horses.”
“Yes,” Benjamin replied stiffly, aware that Lord Winterton had hoped to purchase the farm himself. He braced himself for the sharp edge of his host’s tongue but was surprised instead to find himself regaled with an account of the mishaps and mistakes Winterton had made when he started his own venture. He was even more surprised when Winterton offered him some sound advice, not at all patronizingly, and had his secretary bring some books and articles for him before sending Thomas off to bed.
“That must be the doctor now,” Winterton remarked as the sound of voices in the hall reached them. The two men accompanied the doctor, an older man with wild white hair worn long and tied back with a black ribbon, to the patient’s room. Ralph was resting reasonably comfortably, but it was fortunate that he fainted early in the setting of his arm, for it was a most painful enterprise.
Benjamin assisted as best he could in spite of the dizziness he began to feel. When the ordeal was over, Winterton thrust him in a chair and urged a glass of brandy on him. This restored him sufficiently to take his leave of Winterton and find his way home.
When the room was cleared of all but Winterton, his valet, and the now-sleeping patient, Winterton remarked wryly, “He’ll waken with pain in a few hours. I’ll sit by to give him some laudanum if he needs it.” He roamed about the room for a moment and commented absently, “He was Carl’s best friend.” Recalling himself, he addressed Crosby rather curtly, “You may go now. I shall not need you further tonight.”
The valet bowed and closed the door softly behind himself. Winterton stood gazing out the window for some time before lowering himself wearily onto a velvet-covered chair not really large enough to seat him comfortably, but the best the room had to offer. He dozed fitfully while Ralph tossed and groaned, every movement of his body causing him pain. He awoke only once and in a daze accepted some water and a few drops of laudanum, which helped him spend a more peaceful night.
Winterton awoke early, checked the patient for fever, and, finding none, departed for his room, sending a footman in his stead. He found Crosby already patiently awaiting him and smiled companionably at the older man. “I think I could use a ride to clear my head. I should see that there is a more comfortable chair put in the West Room.”
“As you say, my lord. I would have sat with him.”
“I know,” Winterton replied wearily. “He’s not a bad fellow—very like Carl, really. He just wants a bit of responsibility to make him take hold.”
Chapter 8
Kate walked in to breakfast to find her father reading a note, his brow drawn in a frown. “What is it, Papa? Not bad news?”
“Certainly not the best I’ve had this week. It’s from Winterton’s secretary informing me that Ralph has been injured in a curricle accident, but is in no danger. They called in the doctor.” He lifted his eyes to his daughter, then read, “‘As Mr. Montgomery will no doubt require a great deal of rest after his accident, it is suggested that his family call no earlier than ten.’” He chuckled appreciatively. “No doubt my Lord Winterton does not wish to be overrun before he breakfasts.”
“I doubt he arises so early,” Kate said scornfully, but returned her father’s twinkle. “Shall we all go? It would serve his lordship right.”
“Your mama does not know of this as yet. Let us not worry her unnecessarily. Finish your breakfast, and we’ll drive over together.”
It lacked but a few minutes to ten when Mr. Montgomery and his daughter arrived at Winter Manor. They were shown into the White Parlor, where Lord Winterton joined them immediately. “Sir, Miss Montgomery, your servant. Ralph is badly bruised and has broken an arm, but I assure you he is mending already. He consumed a truly remarkable breakfast.” He smiled charmingly at them.