Chapter Eleven
On the other side of the racecourse, out of sight of everyone, Nathaniel sat while Richard administered to him.
“I told you I could handle Amber Blaze.” Richard had secured some ice and applied it to the side of Nathaniel’s head.
“I have every confidence you can handle Amber Blaze. I would even say you handle her as well, and possibly better than I. My concern was not about you with the mare.” He stopped Richard’s hand and looked at him. “We look too much alike. I wouldn’t let Hawthorne take out his vengeance on you.” He released Richard’s hand.
Richard continued his ministrations for several heartbeats. Neither spoke.
Richard removed the cloth. “The welt is down. No one will see it if you allow your hair to be disheveled, like mine.” He picked at Nathaniel’s hair, making sure to conceal the welt. He stepped back and admired his work. “Is this challenge worth your life?”
Nathaniel got to his feet, his fingertips gingerly feeling the welt on his scalp. He shrugged out of the coat he wore. “Thank you for your coat.” He glanced at the bloodstain. “We’ll see Mr. Henry Poole and I’ll have it replaced.”
Richard shook his head as he exchanged coats with Nathaniel. He looked at the bloodstain, his face reddened with anger. “You should have let me ride. He could have killed you,” he said through clenched teeth. “We could have lost you.”
“If he struck you,” Nathaniel said to Richard. “He would have been reprimanded, possibly barred from racing. But he struck me, the Marquess St. John. For that he will have to answer to the Regent’s Derby Council. We will let them decide what to do about him.”
“Five years ago, the Prince Regent let the Council take action. Justice was swift for Hawthorne. I almost felt sorry for him,” Richard said. “Today, Hawthorne was in the process of leaving the racecourse when the royal guards came for him. They brought him before Prinny.”
Nathaniel looked surprised. “That is quite unusual. He doesn’t get involved in petty issues.”
“He must not have thought the issue was petty. He stroked his chin while he listened to the judges. Hawthorne had the audacity to interrupt and deny what happened. ‘Are you finished?’ Prinny said in a loud, booming voice. Hawthorne stopped mid-sentence, his face turned ashen. ‘I know of your other offenses against peers and commoners. The list is long,’ he added. No one made a sound as Prinny mentioned several offenses. It appears you were not the only peer Hawthorne has attacked,” Richard continued. “‘What do you have to say,’ the Prince Regent asked. The man’s grievances were the same we have heard before. The peerage has advantages at the expense of the commoners.
“Prinny reminded him that attacking a royal, any royal, is punishable by death. He went on to say that he could empathize with his grievances, but no one was forcing him to live in England. ‘I strongly suggest you consider traveling.’ Everyone was quiet. When Hawthorne objected, Prinny added, ‘—indefinitely.’ He is to forfeit his mare and go with the royal guard, who will see he gets home safely. On my way here, I overheard someone close to him say that Hawthorne would be boarding the next available packet. It was scheduled to sail to New South Wales on the evening tide.”
They were both quiet for several heartbeats. Finally, they began to walk toward the pavilion.
“I’m glad I rode in the race instead of you. As much as Hawthorne wanted his revenge, I had to stand up to him. Now tell me,” Nathaniel’s entire demeanor brightened. “What did Prinny say to you when he presented you with the award? I saw him whisper in your ear.”
Richard chuckled. “I was to tell you he prefers you without your beard, and that I, on the other hand, wear mine quite handsomely.”
“Did anyone question who you were?”
“Not at all. I took on a mean look and they assumed I was the Marquess St. John.” They both laughed. “I’m beginning to understand why you feel so strongly about this challenge. And rather than leave you wondering, before Prinny sent his guards to bring Hawthorne to him, I saw Bessie leave the Prince Regent’s side. I don’t think anyone, not even Prinny, can tell the two of us apart. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lord, I will leave you here and once again assume the role of my humble self. I need more than lemonade after this race.” Richard turned down one of the paths.
Nathaniel watched his good friend and cousin leave Hyde Park. Nathaniel remained on the path heading toward the pavilion and when he arrived, he noticed Louise enter. He wasn’t far behind her.
Louise entered thepavilion and made her way to the refreshment table. She picked up a glass of lemonade as Lady Fitzroy approached, accompanied by two familiar faces: Lady Standish and Lady Balson. They had visited Madame Pembroke’s dress shop on several occasions but hadn’t made any purchases.
“Charlotte, you were magnificent riding astride.” Lady Standish wore a dove gray day dress with a lovely pastel floral shawl. “And leading that pack. You were brilliant. I enjoy riding, but I would never dare ride astride.”
“You are too afraid of what people will say. I, on the other hand, really do not care what they say or think.” Lady Fitzroy took a glass of lemonade from the footman.
“Where did you get your riding habit? To ride astride and remain proper.” Lady Balson wore a neat dark blue day dress with a pelisse.
“At Madame Pembroke’s, of course. Her seamstress is a marvel.” Lady Fitzroy glanced at Louise and nodded.
“My dressmaker,” Lady Balson continued, “cannot do such intricate detail work. Oh, she sews on a bit of lace.” Her hand flapped the lace on the bodice of her dress. “But she tells me anything more would interfere with the ‘drape of the fabric.’ Look at the exquisite lacework on the gown the woman next to you is wearing.”
All three women stared at her.
Startled at being included in the conversation, Louise didn’t know whether to remain aloof or join the women. She did appreciate the compliment.
“Thank you for your kind words. I must say working with lace and beads can be quite challenging, especially on a light fabric such as this. Your dressmaker is correct. Heavy beadwork and lace can alter the drape of the fabric. Has she considered using fine silk organza as an interfacing layer to provide stability and structure without adding extra weight?”
Lady Standish and Lady Balson exchanged glances and spoke in hushed tones. Louise felt a slight unease creeping up her back. Did she say too much? Had she given herself away? The more she thought about it, the colder she got. She may have just cost Nathaniel his project. But as the conversation continued, she realized the women hadn’t called her out, at least not yet. Stay calm and pray your veil keeps your secret safe.
“My lady, there you are.” A warm, mellow male voice reached her ears. All four women turned.
Louise let out a silent sigh of relief. Nathaniel. “You’ve come just in time to save these lovely ladies from me boring them with my new hobby.”
“Oh, no. Never, my dear.” He turned to the women with a playful smile. “She would put lace on my nightclothes if I let her. I swear, she’s turning my wardrobe into her personal masterpiece. Soon, every inch of fabric I own will be adorned with lace, ribbons, or some other fanciful creation. If you will excuse us.” He offered Louise his arm and led her away, leaving the two women with blushing faces, unable to speak, while Lady Fitzroy could not contain her laughter.
“Your nightclothes?” Louise asked as they went toward Bessie’s landau.
“It stopped them from asking any further questions, did it not?”
She had a fit of the giggles as they went on. Nathaniel joined in. Finally able to contain themselves, they went on in silence. With all the excitement at the pavilion, there was little chance they would encounter anyone on their way to the landau, which suited Nathaniel just fine.
“I was astonished. Hawthorne hit St. John with his whip. If that wasn’t bad enough, he tried again. Everyone watched Hawthorne being taken away by the royal guard. What is to become of him?”
“I have it from a good authority that his horse has been forfeited, and Prinny has told Hawthorne that he needs to strongly consider traveling—indefinitely. We shouldn’t be surprised if he was on his way to New South Wales on the evening tide.”
“Oh, dear. That is quite drastic.” Louise’s hand went to her throat. A late afternoon breeze rustled through the trees, tossing Nathaniel’s hair. She glanced at him and stared at his temple. Her heart raced, and she sucked in her breath. “Was your friend Richard hurt badly?”
Nathaniel didn’t say anything for several heartbeats. “Richard is quite fine. He’s off celebrating with a fine brandy.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is. I’ve seen steeplechases with jumps, but I’ve never seen a horse take a hedge that high. Amber Blaze made it look effortless as she flew over the top. She stretched out long and, well…” Louise stopped and turned to Nathaniel, determined not to look at his temple. “It was glorious.”
He patted her hand. “Yes, Amber Blaze was magnificent.” They continued walking.
They reached the carriage. Boyet promptly opened the door for them. Nathaniel helped Louise in and then followed. Tired, he practically fell into the seat as Boyet closed the door.
Bessie broke the silence, her glare fixed on Nathaniel. His eyes darted between Louise and Bessie. He stifled his surprise. He didn’t know what to expect. Frankly, he had had enough surprises for one day.
“Protecting your project? I saw you follow Louise into the pavilion,” Bessie hissed through clenched teeth.
Nathaniel straightened, his expression caught between surprise and defiance. “It wasn’t the challenge I worried about.” His voice held a steely resolve. He briefly glanced at Louise before returning his gaze to Bessie. “I couldn’t allow Louise to face humiliation in front of those gossips and the Prince Regent. I will remind you that this project wasn’t created to destroy people. And speaking of mischief, there is a game afoot of another kind.”
He stared at Bessie, a silent challenge in his eyes, making it clear that he was aware of her interference with Prinny. Bessie’s expression shifted as she glanced from Louise to Nathaniel. “No. Of course not. I sincerely wouldn’t want anything to happen to either of you. I do care about you both.”
Nathaniel moved back in his seat with an air of finality, ensuring she understood his position and his appreciation. He casually glanced at the surroundings and mulled over his own feelings as the carriage headed back to Cleveland Row. When he overheard Louise’s conversation with the three women, he thought they might discover her true identity, and he feared if she didn’t pass muster, they would reject her. He couldn’t bear the thought of the pain and embarrassment that would cause her.
“You have my gratitude,” Nathaniel sighed, his frustration bubbling within him. His appreciation for Louise’s efforts was genuine, but it was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. As he made himself more comfortable, his mind spun with a frenzy of thoughts.
Louise’s true identity. Who was she really? The question echoed in Nathaniel’s mind, tormenting him with its relentless persistence. Bloody hell, the fact that he had no inkling of who she was vexed him beyond measure.
His eyes flickered once more toward Louise, sitting across from him, her face concealed behind the veil. She held an allure he couldn’t resist, her presence sparking desire within him. It was as if a storm had been unleashed, stirring emotions that ran deeper than he could have ever anticipated.
Nathaniel grappled with his growing feelings with each passing moment. There was a magnetic pull between them, a connection he couldn’t ignore, and yet the uncertainty gnawed at him. He longed to know her, to uncover the layers she hid.
The carriage halted at the Lyon’s Den. He escorted Bessie and Louise to the door and said goodbye. Afterward, he sent the carriage away and proceeded to walk to his house. He had hoped the stroll would clear his head, yet he found himself unable to shake the events that had occurred since Bessie had agreed to the project, particularly the unsettling confrontation they had in the carriage.
As he approached his residence, Nathaniel turned onto the path leading to his door. Just before he reached the entrance, Mr. Styles, his butler, swung the door open. “Good evening, my lord. You have guests in the billiard room, Earl Wainwright and Lord Breton.”
Archibald and Charles. Not Richard.Nathaniel nodded and started for the stairs. “If they ask, tell them I’ve gone to bed and will see them tomorrow.”
“Very good, my lord.” The man stood at attention as Nathaniel made his way to his room.
Nathaniel’s bedroom was his sanctuary. At its heart stood a majestic four-poster bed draped in rich, deep blue velvet curtains.
Adjacent to it stood a handsome mahogany writing desk with its partner, a leather upholstered chair. Positioned strategically by the fireplace, a cozy armchair with soft cushions was perfect for quiet contemplation and leisurely reading. A small table with two chairs sat next to the window, offering a quiet place for breakfast.
“My lord,” Matthew, his valet, entered to help him undress.
“I seem to have gotten in the way of a tree branch.”
Matthew had him sit as he examined the wound.
“Not a branch, my lord. There is no trace of bark or leaves. The wound has closed. I believe all that is needed is a bit of ice to control the swelling. Whatever hit you did not do it full on. It’s just a glancing blow.” Matthew hurried to get the supplies he needed.
Nathaniel undressed and sat by the fireside with a book in hand, though, if asked, he couldn’t tell what the story was about. As night fell and he retired to bed, he found himself unable to calm his swirling emotions. These feelings ran far deeper than he had ever anticipated or prepared for.
He closed his eyes. A smile touched his lips. Louise’s face, with her soft, inviting smile, materialized as he fell into a deep peaceful sleep.