Chapter Nine #2
They’d played piquet at the card party they’d both attended and she had pointed out all sorts of things he ought to think and do.
He’d never been so relaxed around the mysterious female sex.
There was something comforting about her long diatribes where he was only expected to agree.
He barely had to hold up his end of the talking.
And then, when his Aunt Agatha had tried to push in, well then he saw Lady Edith’s true might.
She’d informed the lady that piquet only admitted two players and, furthermore, they were in the midst of a conversation.
His aunt, always so pushy and frightening, had positively slinked away! He’d never seen the like of it.
They’d gone on to have a discussion about their herds, which had been very pleasant. Now, he wandered Lady Jellerbey’s dim rooms, searching for her distinctive forceful frame. He did not see her, but was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. He jumped and turned to who was sneaking up on him.
“Lord Landry.”
It was Lady Winsome, another lady he admired as she was kind and not too frightening. And her father, who he was not certain what to make of.
He bowed. “Lady Winsome. Your Grace.”
“Landry,” the duke said. “Well met. Entertain my daughter while I search out some claret. I can only abide staggering round in the dark if I have a glass in hand.”
The duke went off to locate a sideboard. Lady Winsome said, “I am glad to encounter you, I was hoping to ask you something.”
Landry nodded, though he was not very used to anybody hoping to see him or wanting to ask him anything. Then he realized what it must be. “You wonder how I got on with Lady Edith at the card party. It went well. Yes, I think I can claim that—it went well.
“I am very glad to hear it,” Lady Winsome said. “Of course I wished to know it. And actually, I had second question too. Have you ever heard of a racing horse name Trulogap?”
Landry wrinkled his brow. “Trulogap? I am not certain. There is something familiar sounding in it, but I cannot place it. There is a Truro-something, but then I suppose that is because the horse hales from Truro. Trulo, though? I suppose I might have, as I said, it does sound familiar.”
For some reason, this seemed to disappoint Lady Winsome.
“Though if you’d rather I hadn’t heard of it…perhaps I never did.”
“No, no,” she said.
“Lady Winsome. Landry.”
Lord St. John had approached. He brought his usual smile and confidence. Where did these fellows find all this confidence they so freely threw about?
“I wonder if I might steal Lady Winsome away for a turn through the rooms? Lady Winsome, you must visit one of Lady Jellerbey’s sideboards—it is the best thing about the candlelight picnic.”
Lady Winsome laughed. “So my father says too.” Quietly to Landry, she said, “Good luck with Lady E.”
Yes, indeed. A little bit of luck would never hurt. In the meantime, he had prepared a list of questions on her views of methods of crop rotations and would be very interested to hear what she would say.
*
As Winsome dressed for the evening, she felt as if she were fighting her own nature.
It was in her nature to hold suspicion close and follow its hints.
She had always prided herself on her logical clear-headedness.
While Verity invented fantastical opinions, she based her own on the facts, and only the facts.
Where was Lady Logic now? Despite the evidence piling up that Lord Manderbey was precisely the sort of gentleman she’d been determined to avoid, she did not wish to avoid him.
She was driven to discover more about him, some redeeming fact, even though she recognized it was probably a fruitless exercise.
She’d also failed to mention anything she’d discovered to her father.
As far as he knew it, Lord Manderbey was an upstanding citizen with nothing running against him.
She could not bear to tell the duke, as once she did, that would be that.
Her father was exceedingly liberal regarding his daughters’ preferences in a husband, but he would not tolerate a man looking to gamble away all his assets.
They’d arrived to Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic and encountered Lord Landry. Having a moment alone, she’d gone fishing for more information. Had he ever heard of a horse named Trulogap?
The answer had not been satisfactory. The name sounded familiar but he was not sure.
Of course, she was well aware that the only answer that would have been entirely satisfactory would have been: “I am confident there has never in the history of England been a horse of that name and if anybody wrote a letter about it, it is all stuff and nonsense.”
Now, Lord St. John escorted her through the rooms. She kept her eye out for Lord Manderbey, even though she ought to have been averting her gaze.
Lord St. John had been prattling on, now he said, “I am likely to be appointed the ambassador to Portugal.”
“That sounds a great honor,” Winsome said, assuming it was.
“Indeed. Of course, it does raise several questions. The palace prefers an ambassador who is well settled and I remain a bachelor. Lady Winsome, have you ever imagined living abroad, hostessing in a foreign court?”
What in the world was he suggesting? Did she understand him rightly? Was he inquiring into her interest in living in Portugal?
As she did not answer, he went on. “Now naturally, what with Napolean rampaging all over the place, the court is currently being held in Rio de Janeiro, which is not ideal. But then, how long can it last, I wonder? As well, Brazil might be an adventure. I suppose things will move back to Lisbon in not too long a time. It is said that opportunities for mining precious gems are practically falling out of the trees in Brazil. I’m exceedingly interested in it.
One might amass a fortune, I am given to understand. ”
Heavens, Brazil. What an idea. She must stop the notion at once. “I am afraid I would not be very seaworthy, Lord St. John. I prefer my little patch of the world, right here in England.”
“I see. But sometimes, when one really thinks about a thing, one might come to a different conclusion.”
Winsome did not answer that, as she certainly would not come to a different conclusion. “By the by, Lord St. John, have you ever heard of a racing horse named Trulogap? I believe I might have heard Lord Manderbey mention it, though I cannot quite recall.”
Lord St. John’s expression spoke of a whirlwind of thoughts running through his mind. “So that’s why he’s suddenly out of funds, is it?” Lord St. John asked. “Betting on horses?”
“Oh, I really do not know,” Winsome said. “I was only attempting to recall where I’d heard the name.”
“It all makes sense though. One day free with his money and the next claiming he will not pay out. I should have known.” Lord St. John paused, then he said, “Wait a minute. Trulogap. Was that the horse that ran at Doncaster last year? The one everybody bet against because it seemed to have a bit of a limp, but then it turned out his jockey had trained him to display it on command. I did hear a number of gentlemen were ruined and the owner had fled…I had not counted my cousin among the victims though. A rube’s mistake. ”
“Surely not, as I said, I only had a vague recollection of the name.” Winsome said.
She found she rather regretted asking anything about Trulogap.
Every time she inquired into Lord Manderbey, hoping for some shred of redeeming evidence, more damning evidence piled on.
A horse with a purported limp had ruined several gentlemen.
It seemed Lord Manderbey could be one among them.
“Lady Winsome. St. John.”
Winsome spun around. His very voice pulled at her.
Deep and confident and everything a man should be.
There he was, looking achingly handsome in his perfectly fitted coat and expertly tied neckcloth.
He towered over Lord St. John and he was superior in every way.
Except for his gambling debts, the fact that he seemed not to take them seriously, and that he was likely on a dowry hunt.
“Speak of the devil,” St. John said.
“I’m sorry, what?” Lord Manderbey said, looking through narrowed eyes at his cousin.
“Oh do not mind me,” Lord St. John said. “I was just telling Lady Winsome that I am seriously considered for the ambassador to Portugal post. Rio de Janeiro should be an exciting adventure, for a lady willing to take the risk.
Winsome had no idea how Lord St. John had circled back to that preposterous idea.
“Do you say you have plans to wed?” Lord Manderbey asked.
“Only if the lady is agreeable,” Lord St. John said. “I had not initially thought of it, but this season has found me quite suddenly struck.”
Lord Manderbey looked as if he wished to say something, but perhaps did not wish to say it in front of her. In a low tone, he said, “We should discuss the prudence of that, even with the ambassadorship’s stipend.”
Lord St. John threw up his nose. “Prudence would not be necessary if family paid what was duly owed.”
“I owe you nothing,” Lord Manderbey said through gritted teeth.
“Ah! I see, it is acceptable to throw over obligations to family. Well, I hadn’t known, but that’s Doncaster is it not?” He turned and bowed to Winsome. “Lady Winsome. I will see you soon, I think.”
Lord St. John strolled away, leaving her with Lord Manderbey.
“I apologize for my cousin. His temperament is rather unregulated and he often says that which should not be said.”
Winsome did not know what to make of that. Lord St. John should have kept Lord Manderbey’s secret? Just not mentioned it? Pretended he was not owed a debt?
“You seem a bit pale, Lady Winsome,” he said. “Perhaps a glass of wine would restore you?”
“Yes, I suppose it might,” Winsome said. She did not really think wine would restore her, but perhaps it would calm her. What was she to do? Everything about him was wrong and all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms.