She got into a gig and drove out eastwards. I couldnt follow.
Scrugthorpe grunted. See? Told you shed go to the Green Goose. Couldnt keep away, meddling witch.
He spat contemptuously on the floor; the action made Mortimer even more uncomfortable.
Ye-es, well. Joliffe transferred his gaze to Scrugthorpe. Might I remind you that she should, by now, have been in our hands? That but for your lack of foresight, she would be?
Scrugthorpe scowled. How was I to know it were a race-week? And that gentlemen would be using that road? Everything went perfect, elsewise.
Joliffe sighed and raised his eyes heavenwards. Amateursthey were all the same. How had he, who had spent his life thus far successfully extracting a living from the rich, descended to the company of such? Lowering his gaze, his glance fell on Mortimer Babbacombe. Joliffes lips curled in a contemptuous sneer.
Ought to mention, Brawn put in, surfacing from his tankard. She was walking the street with a swell todayright chummylooked like the same swell as wot rescued them.
Joliffes eyes narrowed and he sat forward. Describe this swell.
Fair hairlike gold. Tall, looked like hed strip to advantage. One of them bloods with a fancy cape. Brawn grimaced. They all look the same to me.
Not so to Joliffe. This bloodwas he staying at the Barbican Arms?
Seemed sothe ostlers and all seemed to know him.
Harry Lester. Joliffe tapped a pensive nail on the table. I wonder
Wonder what? Mortimer looked at his erstwhile friend and most urgent creditor, his expression that of a man well out of his depth. Would this man Lester help us?
Joliffe snorted. Only to the hangmans noose. But his peculiar talents bear consideration. Leaning forward, Joliffe placed both elbows on the table. It occurs to me, my dear Mortimer, that we may be involving ourselves unnecessarily here. Joliffe smiled, an empty gesture that made Mortimer shrink. Im sure youd be most agreeable to any way of achieving our aim without direct involvement.
Mortimer swallowed. But how can Lester help usif he wont?
OhI didnt say he wontjust that we neednt ask him. Hell help us entirely for the fun of it. Harry Lester, dear Mortimer, is the rake supremea practitioner extraordinaire in the gentle art of seduction. If, as seems possible, hes got your uncles widow in his sights, then I wouldnt like to bet on her chances. Joliffes smile grew. And, of course, once shes demonstrably no longer a virtuous widow, then youll have all the reason you need to legally challenge her guardianship of your cousin. Joliffes gaze grew intent. And once your pretty cousins legacys in your hands, youll be in a position to pay me, wont you, Mortimer?
Mortimer Babbacombe swallowedand forced himself to nod.
So what do we do now? Scrugthorpe drained his tankard.
Joliffe considered, then pronounced, We sit tight and watch. If we get a chance to lay hands on the lady, we willjust like we planned.
Ayefar as Im concerned, thats how we should do itno sense in leaving anything to chance.
Joliffes lip curled. Your animosity is showing, Scrugthorpe. Please remember that our primary aim here is to discredit Mrs Babbacombenot satisfy your lust for revenge.
Scrugthorpe snorted.
As I was saying, Joliffe went on. We watch and wait. If Harry Lester succeedshell have done our work for us. If not, well continue to pursue the ladyand Scrugthorpe here will have his chance.
At that, Scrugthorpe smiled. Lecherously.
Chapter Four
When Lucinda drove into the yard of the Barbican Arms the next morning, Harry was waiting, shoulders against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his boot against the wall for balance. He had plenty of time to admire the artless picture of mature womanhood seated beside Grimms in his aunts gig. Elegantly gowned in a cornflower blue carriage dress, her dark hair restrained in a severe chignon thus revealing the delicate bones of her face, Lucinda Babbacombe predictably turned the heads of those still dawdling in the yard. Thankfully, the thoroughbred races were to commence that morning; most of Harrys contemporaries were already at the track.
Grimms brought Ems gig to a neat halt in the centre of the yard. With an inward snort, Harry pushed away from the wall.
Lucinda watched him approachhis graceful stride forcefully reminded her of a prowling tiger. A very definite thrill coursed through her; she avoided smiling her delight, contenting herself with a mild expression of polite surprise. Mr Lester. Calmly, she extended her hand. I hadnt expected to see you this morningI thought you were here for the races.
His brows had risen sceptically at her first remark; on her second, his green eyes glittered. He grasped her handfor an instant, as his eyes held hers, Lucinda wondered why she was playing with fire.
Indeed, Harry replied, his habitual drawl in abeyance. He helped her from the carriage, steadying her on the cobbles. I own to surprise on that score myself. However, as you are my aunts guest, and at my instigation, I feel honour-bound to ensure you come to no harm.
Lucindas eyes narrowed but Harry, distracted by the absence of groom or maidGrimms had already disappeared into the stablesdid not notice.
Speaking of which, wheres your groom?
Lucinda allowed herself a small smile. Riding with your brother and Heather. I have to thank you for sending Gerald to ushes entertaining company for HeatherI dare say she would otherwise grow bored. And, of course, that leaves me free to tend to business without having to worry my head over her.
Harry didnt share her confidencebut he wasnt, at this point, concerned with her stepdaughter. His expression hardened as he looked down at her. He was still holding her hand; tucking it into his arm, he turned her towards the inn door. You should at least have a groom with you.
Nonsense, Mr Lester. Lucinda slanted him a curious glance. Surely you arent suggesting that at my age I need a chaperon?
Looking into her eyes, softly blue, their expression openly independent, challenging yet oddly innocent, Harry inwardly cursed. The damned woman didnt need a chaperonshe needed an armed guard. Just why he had elected himself to the post was not a point he was willing to pursue. He contented himself with repressively stating, In my opinion, Mrs Babbacombe, women like you should not be allowed out alone.
Her eyes twinkled; two tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks. Actually, Id like to see the stables. She turned to the archway leading from the main yard.
The stables?
Her gaze ranging their surroundings, Lucinda nodded. The state of the stableyard frequently reflects the quality of the inns management.
The state of the stables suggested the innkeeper of the Barbican Arms was a perfectionist; everything was neat, clean and in its place. Horses turned their heads to stare as Lucinda picked her way over the cobbles, still wet with dew, forced more than once to lean heavily on Harrys arm.
When they reached the earthen floor of the stables, she determinedly straightened. Regretfully withdrawing her fingers from the warmth of his sleeve, she strolled along the row of loose boxes, stopping here and there to acknowledge their curious occupants. She eventually reached the tack room and peered in.
The state of the stables suggested the innkeeper of the Barbican Arms was a perfectionist; everything was neat, clean and in its place. Horses turned their heads to stare as Lucinda picked her way over the cobbles, still wet with dew, forced more than once to lean heavily on Harrys arm.
When they reached the earthen floor of the stables, she determinedly straightened. Regretfully withdrawing her fingers from the warmth of his sleeve, she strolled along the row of loose boxes, stopping here and there to acknowledge their curious occupants. She eventually reached the tack room and peered in.
Excuse me, maambut you shouldnt be in here. An elderly groom hurried out.
Harry stepped out of the shadows. Its all right, Johnson. Ill see the lady safe,
Oh!its you, Mr Lester. The groom touched his cap. Thats all right and tight, then. Maam. With another tug of his cap, the groom retreated into the tack room.
Lucinda blinked, then shot a glance at Harry. Is it always so ordered? So She waved at the loose boxes, each with their half-doors shut. So exact?
Yes. Harry looked down at her as she stopped beside him. I stable my carriage horses hereyou may rest assured of the quality in that respect.
I see. Deeming all queries on the equine side of business satisfied, Lucinda turned her attention to the inn proper.
Ushered through the main door, she looked with approval on half-panelled walls, well-polished and glowing mellowly. Sunshine reflected from crisply whitewashed walls; stray beams danced across the flagged floor.
Mr Jenkins, the innkeeper, a neat, rotund person of genial mien, bustled up. Harry performed the introductions, then stood patiently by while Lucinda explained her purpose. Unlike Blount, Mr Jenkins was all gratified helpfulness.
Lucinda turned to Harry. My business with Mr Jenkins will keep me busy for at least an hour. I wouldnt for the world impose on your kindness, Mr Lesteryouve already done so much. And I can hardly come to harm within the inn.
Harry didnt blink. For her, the Arms played host to a panapoly of dangersnamely his peers. Meeting her innocent gaze with an impenetrable blandness, he waved a languid hand. Indeedbut my horses dont run until later.
Which comment, he noted, brought a flash to her eyes. She hesitated, then, somewhat stiffly, acquiesced, inclining her head before turning back to Mr Jenkins.
Wearing patience like a halo, Harry followed his host and his aunts guest about the old inn, through rambling passageways and storerooms, to bedchambers and even to the garrets. They were returning down an upper corridor when a man came blundering out of a room.
Lucinda, opposite the door, started; glimpsing the man from the corner of her eye, she braced herself for a collision. Instead, she was bodily set aside; the chubby young gentleman ran full tilt into a hard shoulder. He bounced off, crumpling against the door frame.
Ouf! Straightening, the man blinked. Ohhello, Lester. Slept in, dont yknow. Cant miss the first race. He blinked again, a puzzled frown forming in his eyes. Thought youd be at the track by now.
Later. Harry stepped back, revealing Lucinda.
The young man blinked again. Ohah, yes. Terribly sorry, maamalways being told I should look where Im going. No harm done, I hope?
Lucinda smiled at the ingenuous apology. Nonone. Thanks to her protector.
Good-oh! Id best be on my way, then. See you at the track, Lester. With an awkward bow and a cheery wave, the youthful sprig hurried off.
Harry snorted.
Thank you for your assistance, Mr Lester. Lucinda slanted him a smile. Im really most grateful.
Harry took full note of the quality of her smile. Coolly, he inclined his head and waved her on in Jenkinss wake.
By the end of her tour, Lucinda was impressed. The Barbican Arms, and Mr Jenkins, were a far cry from the Green Goose and Jake Blount. The inn was spick and span throughout; she had found nothing remotely amiss. Her inspection of the books was a mere formality; Mr Mabberly had already declared the Arms a model of good finance.
She and her host spent a few minutes going over the plans for an extension to the inn. For were full to overflowing during race-meets and more than half full at other times.
Lucinda gave her general approval and left the details for Mr Mabberly.
Thank you, Mr Jenkins, she declared, pulling on her gloves as they headed for the door. I must tell you that, having visited all but four of the fifty-four inns owned by Babbacombe and Company, I would rank the Barbican Arms as one of the best.
Mr Jenkins preened. Very kind of you to say so, maam. We do strive to please.
With a gracious nod, Lucinda swept out. Once in the courtyard she paused. Harry stopped beside her; she looked up at his face. Thank you for your escort, Mr LesterIm really most grateful considering the other demands on your time.
Harry was too wise to attempt an answer to that.
Lucindas lips twitched; she looked quickly away. Actually, she mused, I was considering viewing this race-meet. She brought her eyes back to his face. Ive never been to one before.
Harry looked down at her ingenuous expression. His eyes narrowed. Newmarket race-track is no place for you.
She blinked, taken abackHarry glimpsed real disappointment in her eyes. Then she looked away. Oh.
The single syllable hung in the air, a potent testimony to crushed anticipation. Fleetingly, Harry closed his eyes, then opened them. However, if you give me your word you will not stray from my sidenot to admire some view, some horse or a ladys bonnet He looked down at her, his jaw setting. I will engage to escort you there.
Her smile was triumphant. Thank you. That would be very kind.
Not kindfoolish. It was, Harry was already convinced, the most stupid move hed ever made. An ostler came running in answer to his curt gesture. Ill have my curricle. You can tell Grimms to take Lady Hallowss gig back; Ill see Mrs Babbacombe home.
Yessir.
Lucinda busied herself with the fit of her gloves, then meekly allowed herself to be lifted to the curricles seat. Settling her skirts, and her quivering senses, she smiled serenely as, with a deft flick of the reins, Harry took the greys onto the street.
The race-track lay west of the town on the flat, grassy, largely tree-less heath. Harry drove directly to the stables in which his string of racers were housed, a little way from the track proper, beyond the public precincts.
Lucinda, drinking in the sights, could not miss the glances thrown their way. Stableboy and gentleman alike seemed disposed to stare; she was unexpectedly grateful when the stable walls protected her from view.
The horses were a wonder. Lifted down from the curricle, Lucinda could not resist wandering down the row of loose boxes, patting the velvet noses that came out to greet her, admiring the sleek lines and rippling muscles of what, even to her untutored eyes, had to be some of the finest horses in England.
Engaged in a brisk discussion with Hamish, Harry followed her progress, insensibly buoyed by the awed appreciation he saw in her gaze. On reaching the end of the row, she turned and saw him watching her; her nose rose an inch but she came back, strolling towards him through the sunshine.