Chapter Fourteen
Stuck in his carriage for two days during his travels to Newmarket in Suffolk, Samuel replayed the shocking information he had learned from Portsmouth.
Had Samuel been so selfishly wrapped up in his own life that he never noticed any signs of his father’s indiscretion?
Although “indiscretion” wasn’t quite the right word or description.
A love affair was more apt. Because evidently, they cared for each other deeply. Well, if Portsmouth was to be believed.
And wasn’t that the biggest dilemma facing him?
Did he believe the earl? Portsmouth might be fabricating the affair to push his own agenda, using Clarice’s sympathy to get back into her life.
But she had no sympathy for her father. And Clarice was too clever to let him manipulate her.
Had he not nearly ruined her life by marrying her off to Chesterfield in the first place?
Had he lied about Samuel’s father’s past?
Was everything he said a lie to get what he wanted?
And what Portsmouth wanted was to separate him from Clarice.
Regardless of truths or lies, Samuel should have known her father would interfere with their future the moment he caught wind of them courting, even if the courtship had barely started.
The evil earl hadn’t wasted any time showing his true colors by using threats to tear them apart because of the affair between his wife and Samuel’s father.
An affair that had nothing to do with them.
This caused a sharp stabbing pain in his temples as his thoughts circled endlessly—truths, lies, smoke, and mirrors.
He groaned. How was he supposed to know what was real and what was the figment of a deranged earl’s imagination?
He couldn’t, and wasn’t. That, perhaps, was the crux of the problem.
Samuel’s heart was splitting down the middle in a jagged line.
The pain was even worse this time than the first time he lost Clarice.
Luckily, he would be busy with Clover and Zeus and could lose himself in the day-to-day tasks of training, caring for them, and preparing for the first race of the season, the 2000 Guineas Stakes at Newmarket Racecourse held the first week in May. Seven days away.
Before the manure in the form of the Earl of Portsmouth stunk up their lives, Samuel had been planning to surprise Clarice by asking her to join him as a guest of the Baron and Baroness, acquaintances of his through their shared love of thoroughbreds.
They owned a stud farm and bred some of the best racehorses around.
Samuel rented a small stable from them to house Zeus and Clover until he could set up his own stud farm and stables.
His carriage stopped in front of Ramsbury Ridge Farms. When Samuel got out, he saw Bartholomew Hamilton, Baron Ramsbury hurrying down the front steps to greet him. “Stanton, welcome,” Ramsbury said with a curious look. “We didn’t expect you for several more days. Is Lady Chesterfield with you?”
Samuel winced and shook his head. “I hope you don’t mind me arriving early. And sadly, Lady Chesterfield did not accompany me.” He didn’t offer a reason, nor would he.
“I see.” Ramsbury indicated the stairs. “No matter whether you’re early or not, your room is always ready.” He motioned for Samuel to go ahead of him up the front stairs. “Anna will be thrilled to see you. She is taking tea in the drawing room. Come, let’s join her.”
The only things Samuel wanted to do were to freshen up and visit his horses.
However, first he needed to pay his respects to his host and hostess and join them for tea.
Just then, his stomach growled, letting him know he was famished.
When he and Ramsbury joined Anna, she poured tea and settled several biscuits on a plate for each of them.
While Samuel sipped his tea and ate the biscuits, his mind strayed.
The first race was coming up fast, and he needed to spend every minute of every day with his jockey, Tobias, his trainer, Albert, and of course, Clover and Zeus.
Zeus would race in the 2000 Guineas, the Derby, and St. Leger Stakes.
Clover would race in the 1000 Guineas Stakes and the Oaks.
Samuel was still undecided about the Royal Ascot Heath.
As the owner of two thoroughbreds racing for the first time, there were nightly parties that he was expected to attend. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have Clarice on his arm as he hoped. His stomach clenched tightly.
Fortunately for him, Baron Ramsbury sponsored his membership to The Jockey Club, an essential institution for any thoroughbred owner and stud farm hopeful.
The Tea Room was where everything related to the horseracing industry was discussed.
Fortunes were made and lost there, as well as reputations.
He would have to show his face there daily.
“Stanton,” Anna’s soft voice drew him out of his musings, “you look tired. Go to your room and get settled.”
He stood and bowed. “Forgive me, I have much on my mind.”
“Go,” Ramsbury said as he ate another biscuit. “We will see you at dinner.”
Samuel made his way up to the room he used whenever he was in town and found to his surprise his valet had already unpacked everything. He eyed the bed and wanted nothing more than to fall face first onto it and sleep. Instead, he put on his riding clothes and headed to see his horses.
*
“Clarice,” Letitia said as she swept into her chambers, with Mrs. Shelley on her heels, to find her curled up on her chaise longue with a book of poetry.
For the past two days, she hadn’t left her rooms. It took too much effort to smile and act natural and normal while she sorted out the things her father had told her.
“Letitia,” Clarice sat up, swiping her long hair from her face and tucking it behind her ears. Standing, she turned and faced her worried friend. “You may leave us, Mrs. Shelley.”
“Yes, my lady.”
As the door closed behind her maid, Letitia stepped forward, her concerned eyes scanning her from head to toe. “You look dreadful. I suppose I’ll have to forgive you for canceling tea.”
“I do not look dreadful, and I’m sorry for canceling,” she huffed. Clarice went to her dressing table and glanced at herself in the mirror, made a face, and laughed nervously. “Oh dear, I do look dreadful.”
“Sit down. Let me brush your hair.”
With a heavy sigh, Clarice sat on the small chair, picked up her hairbrush, and handed it to Letitia. “You know, Mrs. Shelley can do this.”
Her friend met her reflection in the mirror. “I know, but I would like to brush it in the hope that you will indulge me and explain what has happened that has you hiding in your chambers.”
Her stomach twisted. She’d been so lost in her head about what transpired between her, her father, and Samuel that she hadn’t considered how her actions might have affected Letitia when she canceled on Letitia without an explanation.
“I’m sorry.” She went on to explain everything that had happened, leaving nothing out, knowing she could trust Letitia with her secrets.
Letitia’s hand paused as she brushed her hair, and sadness and shock appeared on her face.
“I’m sorry.” She continued the downward stroke of the brush.
“I don’t even know where to begin to be sorry.
Your father is . . . there are no words.
” Her hand faltered. “He called on me yesterday, sent flowers, and invited me to the theater. Naturally, I declined. He was very gracious about my rejection.”
“He’s up to something.”
“He is.” Letitia agreed. “He’s trying to ruin your life. Can you imagine me courting your father?”
Clarice shivered. “No.”
“Me either.” Pink stained her cheeks. “Greyson called on me right after your father left. Phew! That was a close call. After what you just told me about the earl, I’d rather he not find out about Greyson and his intentions.”
Clarice locked eyes with Letitia in the mirror and tilted her head in silent questioning. “And what, exactly, are Greyson’s intentions?”
Removing the brush from her hair, she swung it around. “Damned if I know.”
“Letitia,” Clarice exclaimed. “I’ve never heard you swear before. You really care for Greyson, don’t you?”
Letitia’s pink cheeks and dreamy eyes revealed it all.
“Yes,” she huffed. “Unfortunately, it’s a bad time for us.
His social calendar is booked solid all the way through spring and summer, with one house party after another as he escorts his sisters because his mother isn’t up to participating or won’t leave his sick father’s bedside.
Not that I blame her for staying with her husband, except that the responsibility of chaperoning his twin sisters falls on him.
And I’m being selfish and silly wanting him all to myself. ”
“It is uncommon, but not unheard of, for a brother to escort and chaperone his sisters. Perhaps you are attending some of the same house parties?”
“Not really. I declined most invitations because I wasn’t sure how I would feel rejoining Society.”
Clarice turned around in the chair. “I know. Let us go to Newmarket for the races. Surely he would not miss an opportunity to watch Samuel’s horses race.
” It would also give her an opportunity to watch Samuel from afar.
She would have to be very careful when out in the open so as not to draw attention to herself.
She would not want any news of her being seen with him to reach her father.
She would prefer her father never know where she’d gone off to.
It would be better for all involved if he believed she was holed up inside her townhouse.
A frown marred her face. How would she sneak away? Her butler had confirmed her and Samuel’s suspicions: Her father had men watching her house and each exit at all hours of the day and night.