Em snorted approvingly. Glad to hear theyve some gentlemen in those parts. So you became Mrs Babbacombe and lived atthe Grange, was it?
Thats right. Heather had finally relinquished the soup; Lucinda paused to serve herself from the platter of turbot Fergus offered. To all appearances Charles was a well-to-do gentleman of moderate estate. In reality, however, he owned a considerable collection of inns up and down the country. He was really very wealthy but preferred a quiet existence. He was close to fifty when we married. As I grew older, he taught me all about his investments and how to manage them. He was ill for some yearsthe end was a relief when it camebut because of his foresight, I was able to handle most of the work for him.
Lucinda looked up to find her hostess staring at her.
Who owns the inns now? Em asked.
Lucinda smiled. We doHeather and I. The Grange, of course, went to Charless nephew, Mortimer Babbacombe, but Charless private fortune wasnt part of the entail.
Em sat back and regarded her with frank approval. And thats why youre hereyou own an inn in Newmarket?
Lucinda nodded. After the will was read, Mortimer asked us to vacate the Grange within the week.
The blackguard! Em glared. What sort of a way is that to treat a grieving widow?
Well, Lucinda held up a hand. I did offer to leave as soon as he wishedalthough I hadnt thought hed be in such a hurry. Hed never even visited beforenot really.
So you found yourselves out on your ears in the snow? Em was incensed.
Heather giggled. It really turned out most fortuitously in the end.
Indeed. Lucinda nodded, pushing her plate away. With nothing organised, we decided to remove to one of our innsone a little way away from the Grange, a place we werent known. Once there, I realised the inn was far more prosperous than I would have guessed from the accounts our agent had recently presented. Mr Scrugthorpe was a new manCharles had been forced to appoint a new agent a few months before he died when our old Mr Matthews passed on. Lucinda frowned at the trifle Fergus placed before her. Unfortunately, Charles interviewed Scrugthorpe on a day he was in great pain and I had to be in town with Heather. To cut a long story short, Scrugthorpe had falsified the accounts. I called him in and dismissed him.
Lifting her gaze to her hostesss face, Lucinda smiled. After that, Heather and I decided that travelling the country getting to know our inns was an excellent way to see out our year of mourning. It was exactly the sort of enterprise of which Charles would have approved.
Em snortedthis snort clearly signified her appreciation of Charless good sense. Seems to have been a very able manyour father, miss.
He was a dear. Heathers open face clouded and she blinked rapidly, then looked down.
Ive appointed a new agenta Mr Mabberly. Lucinda smoothly covered the awkward moment. Hes young but extremely efficient.
And goes in awe of Lucinda, Heather offered, looking up to help herself to a second scoop of trifle.
As he should, Em replied. Well, Miss Gifford as wasyouve certainly done your parents proud thus far. A capable lady of independent means at whattwenty-six?
Twenty-eight. Lucindas smile was crooked. There were times, such as today, when she suddenly wondered if life had passed her by.
A very fair achievement, Em declared. I dont hold with women being helpless. She eyed Heathers at last empty plate. And if youve finally finished, miss, I suggest we retire to the drawing-room. Do either of you play the pianoforte?
They both did and gladly entertained their hostess with various airs and sonatas, until Heather fell to yawning. At Lucindas suggestion she retired, passing the tea trolley in the doorway.
Indeed, weve had an adventuresome day. Lucinda sat back in an armchair by the fire and sipped the tea Em had dispensed. Lifting her gaze, she smiled at Em. I cant thank you enough, Lady Hallows, for taking us in.
Nonsense, Em replied with one of her snorts. And you could please me by dropping all the ladyships and just calling me Em, like everyone else in the family. Youre Melroses daughter and thats close enough for me.
Lucinda smiled, a trifle wearily. Em, then. Whats it a contraction for? Emma?
Em wrinkled her nose. Ermyntrude.
Lucinda managed to keep her lips straight. Oh? she said weakly.
Indeed. My brothers delighted in calling me all the contractions you might imagine. When my nephews came along, I declared it was Em and nothing else.
Very wise. A companionable silence settled as they savoured their tea. Lucinda broke it to ask, Do you have many nephews?
From under heavy lids, Ems eyes glinted. Quite a few. But it was Harry and his brothers I had to guard against. A rapscallion lot.
Lucinda shifted. He has a lot of brothers?
Only twobut thats quite enough. Jacks the eldest, Em blithely rattled on. Heslet me seethirty-six now. Then comes Harry, two years younger. Then theres quite a gap to their sister Lenoreshe married Eversleigh some years backshe must be twenty-six now, which makes Gerald twenty-four. Their mother died years ago but my brother still hangs on. Em grinned. Dare say hell manage to cling to life long enough to see a grandson to carry on the name, the cantankerous old fool. The last was said affectionately. But it was the boys I had most to do withand Harry was always my favourite. Blessed by the angels and the devil both, of course, but such a good boy. Em blinked, then amended, Wella good boy at heart. They all wereare. I see most of Harry and Gerald these dayswhat with Newmarket so close. Harry runs the Lester stud which, even if tis I who say soand Heaven knows I know next to nothing about horsessuch a boring subjectis hailed as one of the premier studs in the land.
Really? There was not the slightest trace of boredom in Lucindas face.
Indeed. Em nodded. Harry usually comes to watch his runners perform. Dare say Ill see Gerald this week, too. Doubtless hell want to show off his new phaeton. Told me when last he was up that he was going to buy one, now the family coffers are full and overflowing.
Lucinda blinked.
Em didnt wait for her to find a subtle way to ask. One hand waving, she airly explained, The Lesters have traditionally been strapped for cashgood estates, good breeding, but no money. The present generation, however, invested in some shipping venture last year and now the whole familys rolling in an abundance of the ready.
Oh. Lucinda readily recalled Harry Lesters expensive elegance. She couldnt imagine him any other way. Indeed, his image seemed to have fixed in her mind, oddly vivid, strangely enthralling. Shaking her head to dispel it, she delicately smothered a yawn. Im afraid Im not very good company, LadyEm. She smiled. I suspect Id better follow Heather.
Em merely nodded. Ill see you in the morning, mdear.
Lucinda left her hostess staring into the fire.
Ten minutes later, her head pillowed in down, Lucinda closed her eyesonly to find Harry Lester on her mind. Tired, adrift, her memories of the day replayed, her interactions with him claiming centre stage. Until she came to their partingwhich left one question to plague her. How would it feel to waltz with Harry Lester?
A mile away, in the tap of the Barbican Arms, Harry sat elegantly sprawled behind a corner table, moodily surveying the room. A smoky haze wreathed a forest of shoulders; gentlemen mingled freely with grooms and stablemen, tipsters wrangled with bookmakers. The tap was all business this evening; the first races, those for non-bloodstock, would commence the next day.
A barmaid came up, hips swaying. She set a tankard of the inns finest on the table, smiling coyly, one brow rising as Harry flipped a coin onto her tray.
Harry caught her eye; his lips curved but he shook his head. Disappointed, the girl turned away. Harry lifted the foaming tankard and took a long sip. Hed abandoned the snug, his habitual refuge, where only the cognescenti were permitted, driven forth by the all-but-incessant questioning as to his delectable companion of the afternoon.
It seemed as if all in Newmarket had seen them.
Certainly all his friends and acquaintances were keen to learn her name. And her direction.
Hed given them neither, steadfastly returning their bright-eyed enquiries with a blank look and the information that the lady was an acquaintance of his aunts hed simply been escorting to her door.
Those facts proved sufficient to dampen the interest of most; the majority who frequented Newmarket knew of his aunt.
But he was definitely tired of covering the lovely Mrs Babbacombes tracks, particularly as he was trying his damnedest to forget her. And her loveliness.
With an inward growl, Harry immersed himself in his tankard and tried to focus his mind on his horsesusually an enthralling subject.
There you are! Been looking all over. Whatre you doing out here? Dawlish slumped into the chair beside him.
Dont ask, Harry advised. He waited while the barmaid, with a fine show of indifference, served Dawlish before asking, Whats the verdict?
Dawlish shot him a glance over the rim of his tankard. Odd, came mumbling from behind it.
Brows lifting, Harry turned his head to stare at his henchman. Odd? Dawlish had gone with the coachman, Joshua, to fetch the wainwright to the carriage.
Me, Joshua and the wainwright all thinks the same. Dawlish set down his tankard and wiped the froth from his lip. Thought as how you should know.
Know what?
That the cotter-pin on that wheel was tampered withhalf-sawed through, it wasbefore the accident. And the spokes had been got at, too.
Harry frowned. Why?
Dont know as how you noticed, but there were a curious lot of rocks strewn about that stretch of road where the carriage went over. None beforeand none after. Just along that stretch. No way a coachman could miss all of em. And they were just round a corner so he couldnt see them in time to pull up.
Harrys frown was intense. I remember the rocks. The boy cleared them away so I didnt have to drive over them.
Dawlish nodded. Ayebut the carriage couldnt avoid themand as soon as that wheel hit, the cotter would have snapped and the spokes after that.
A chill swept Harrys nape. Five mounted men in frieze, with a wagon, hiding in the trees, moving towards the road just after the carriage went down. And if it hadnt been a race-week, that particular stretch of road would almost certainly have been deserted at that time of day.
Harry lifted his gaze to Dawlishs face.
Dawlish looked back at him. Makes you think, dont it?
Grim-faced, Harry slowly nodded. It does indeed. And he didnt like what he thought at all.
Chapter Three
Ill have yr team out in a jiffy, sir.
Harry nodded absentmindedly as the head-ostler of the Barbican Arms hurried off towards the stables. Pulling on his driving gloves, he strolled away from the inns main door to await his curricle in a vacant patch of sunshine by the wall.
Before him, the courtyard was busy, many of the inns guests departing for a day at the track, hoping to pick a few winners to start the week off on the right note.
Harry grimaced. He wouldnt be joining them. Not, at least, until hed satisfied himself on the score of one Mrs Babbacombe. He had given up telling himself she was none of his business; after the revelations of yesterday, he felt compelled to brave her dangerslong enough to assure himself of her safety. She was, after all, his aunts guestat his insistence. Two facts which undoubtedly excused his interest.
Ill get along and see Hamish then, shall I?
Harry turned as Dawlish came up. Hamish, his head-stableman, should have arrived yesterday with his string of thoroughbred racers; the horses would be settling into their stables beyond the racetrack. Harry nodded. Make sure Thistledowns fetlocks sufficiently healedI dont want her entered unless it is.
Dawlish nodded sagely. Aye. Shall I tell Hamish youll be along shortly to see it?
No. Harry studied the fit of his gloves. Ill have to rely on your combined wisdom this time. Ive pressing matters elsewhere.
He felt Dawlishs suspicious glance.
More pressing than a prime mare with a strained fetlock? Dawlish snorted. Id like to know whats higher on yr list than that.
Harry made no effort to enlighten him. Ill probably look in about lunchtime. His imaginings were very likely groundless. It could be no more than coincidence, and two likely females travelling without major escort, that had focused the attention of the men in frieze on the Babbacombe coach. Just make sure Hamish gets the message in time.
Aye, Dawlish grumbled. With a last keen glance, he headed off.
Harry turned as his curricle appeared, the head-ostler leading the greys with a reverence that bespoke a full appreciation of their qualities.
Right prime uns, they be, he averred as Harry climbed to the box.
Indeed. Harry took up the reins. The greys were restive, sensing the chance of freedom. With a nod for the ostler, he backed the curricle preparatory to making a stylish exit from the yard.
Harry!
Harry paused, then, with a sigh, drew in his impatient steeds. Good morning, Gerald. And since when do you arise at this ungodly hour?
He had spied his younger brother amongst the crowds in the tap the night before but had made no effort to advertise his presence. He turned to watch as Gerald, blue-eyed and dark-haired as was his elder brother Jack, strode up, grinning broadly, to place a familiar hand on the curricles front board.
Ever since I heard the story of you escorting two excessively likely looking females who, according to you, are connections of Ems.
Not connections, dear brotheracquaintances.
Faced with Harrys languidly bored mask, Gerald lost a little of his assurance. You mean they really are? Acquaintances of Ems, I mean?
So I discovered.
Geralds face fell. Oh. Then Dawlishs absence registered. Gerald shot a keen glance at his brother. Youre going to Ems now. Mind if I hitch a ride? Should say hello to the old girland perhaps to that dark-haired delight you had up beside you yesterday.
For an instant, Harry was shaken by the most absurd impulseGerald was his younger brother after all, of whom he was, beneath his dismissive exterior, distinctly fond. He concealed the unexpected emotion behind his ineffable charmand sighed. I fear, dear brother, that I must puncture your delusionsthe ladys too old for you.