Fortune's Lady (27 page)

After Gareth had left his regiment, he had kept in touch with the veterinary surgeon, and when he had begun to think about breeding racehorses, he had tried to convince Wilkins to leave the regiment and work for him. The young surgeon had appreciated the offer and the trust and confidence that lay behind it, but he had regretfully declined for the simple reason that he felt his skills were more needed in a regiment whose quarters and whose needs were subject to the varied fortunes of the cavalry and the whims of politics than they were needed in a stable where the welfare of its inhabitants was the owner’s prime concern. He had, however agreed to pay a yearly visit of inspection.

Gareth always looked forward to this visit, but now it took on even more importance when, prompted by Ibthorp’s suggestion and the surgeon’s obvious surprise at seeing the marquess with a cane, he realized he had a favor to ask. “Yes, Wilkins, as you can see, I had a bit of a mishap in my curricle,” he said in response to the surgeon’s query about his cane. “I believe that I suffered the worst of it, but Ajax and Achilles did receive a few minor cuts and scrapes. I would appreciate it if you could take a look at them as well.”

The surgeon examined the injured legs on both animals, who fretted nervously under his observation. “Yes, I can see they were a bit cut up, but they seem to be recovering nicely.” He patted Achilles’ shining neck. “Nor do they seem the worse for wear, as high-spirited as ever and not the least upset by the affair.”

“That is because they had superior care,” Ibthorp volunteered. As Gareth’s former batman, Ibthorp was almost as familiar with Mr. Wilkins as his master and, having been the one to greet the surgeon upon his arrival at Harwood, was now accompanying the two men on their visit to the marquess’s team. “By a right proper young lady who appears to be almost as gifted as yourself, sir.”

“Oh?” The surgeon raised a curious eyebrow, but he was less taken aback by the servant’s assertion than he was by the master’s reaction. He watched in some surprise as a flush stained the marquess’s high cheekbones and a self-conscious look stole into his eyes.

“He is referring to Lady Althea Beauchamp who, as you can see from my own recovery, is skilled at nursing both humans and animals. I was completely unconscious for several days after the accident, and my leg was badly broken, yet you see me now before you almost completely unaffected by the unfortunate incident.”

Mr. Wilkins was inclined to disagree with his former military companion. As far as the marquess’s physical health was concerned, it was clear that he was recovering magnificently, but there was an almost regretful sadness, a loneliness in those gray eyes that had never been there before. This Lady Althea might have completely restored him physically, but emotionally she had obviously left a significant impression.

“She is a great deal like yourself, sir, begging your pardon, sir, but she has that same sort of magic.” Ibthorp refused to let the topic drop. He had been observing his master’s curious lethargy for some time and had arrived at the conclusion that there was only one remedy for it— Lady Althea Beauchamp. Being the loyal servant he was, he had developed a plan to improve his master’s state of mind and was now putting that plan in effect, covertly of course, but with all the energy he could muster.

“A rare young woman, indeed, this Lady Althea, if Ibthorp is to be believed,” the surgeon remarked later that evening as the men drank a convivial glass of brandy in front of the fire in the library.

“Oh, Ibthorp is correct enough, all right. With his own eyes he saw Ajax and Achilles greeting her more eagerly than they ever did me, and submitting to her tending their injuries as meekly as lambs. What he did not see was her beating me soundly at both whist and piquet, soundly enough to win a snug little estate from me.”

“Beat you, Gareth, at cards?” The surgeon smiled and shook his head in disbelief. “She must be a very clever young lady, indeed.”

“There is not the least doubt about that. A more formidable opponent it has never been my pleasure to encounter. She has a mind that absorbs and remembers every detail, and a spirit bold enough to take advantage of her opponent’s slightest weakness.”

“Along with a heart gentle enough to bring comfort and healing to both high-spirited animals and men. A remarkable woman indeed.”

“Yes. A remarkable woman who has struggled to become the remarkable person that she is, virtually on her own, with no help from anyone.”

“Come, now, Gareth. Even I, uninterested as I am in these things, am aware that Lady Althea Beauchamp is the only child of the Duke of Clarendon and, if rumor has it correctly, is the darling of the
ton,
not to mention the Season’s most eligible heiress.”

“You are entirely correct in saying that she has been born with all the advantages of family and fortune that a generous Providence could bestow, but she did not receive those gifts for which she longed the most, appreciation and understanding.”

“Both of which you have taken it upon yourself to supply.”

Gareth grinned. “You were always too clever by half, Wilkins, but yes, I do wish to shower her with whatever her heart desires. And though she does not know it yet, she wishes to become a veterinarian, perhaps not a surgeon such as you, but at least more skilled than she is now in the art of healing. Of course, no woman could attend the Royal Veterinary College, but she could be an apprentice to someone like you and she might learn just as much that way.”

“She could,” Wilkins agreed evenly enough, but his eyes were bright with speculation, “and then what?”

“And then, since she lives a good deal closer to Harwood than you do, she could look in on my horses on a more regular basis. Of course, I would still continue to consult with you, but I intend to grow the racing stock at Harwood to such an extent that it will eventually require more attention than your annual visits can give, thorough though they may be.”

“Ah.” Enlightenment dawned in the surgeon’s face. Personally, he thought that what his old friend was angling for here was a wife, not a veterinarian, but that was something he would have to discover on his own. “Naturally the lady must be busy with her own estate, but if, during the winter months when both she and I will be less busy, she can spare the time to visit me and to study, I think something might be arranged—if she is interested.”

“Thank you, Wilkins. I knew I could rely on you. I guarantee that you will not be disappointed in her.”

“Disappointed in a woman approved of by the Bachelor Marquess? I highly doubt it.”

Gareth went to bed that night in a better frame of mind than he had been since leaving Kennington. It was Ibthorp’s mention of Lady Althea that had set him thinking about it, but the idea of improving his stables and helping Althea develop her natural gift at the same time had been all his own. He could not wait to add this news to his letter.

No. He could not wait for the news to reach her in a letter. Letters were too slow. He wanted to see her face when he told her of his idea. He would deliver his own letter, tell her of his wonderful plan, tomorrow.

Entering the marquess’s chamber with his coffee the next morning Ibthorp was astonished to discover his master up, freshly shaved and dressed, and in better spirits than he had seen him in some time.

“You were correct, Ibthorp, when you spoke so admiringly of Lady Althea’s care for the team. She does have a talent, and it would be a dreadful shame to have that talent wasted. I have spoken to Mr. Wilkins about it and he has agreed to teach her all that he can.”

“Excellent, sir. That should please the lady very much, sir, I would think.”

“I think so too. The moment Mr. Wilkins leaves this morning, I intend to drive over to Kennington to lay the plan before the lady myself.”

And bring back a bit of the spirit that has gone out of you since you bade her good-bye,
Ibthorp added silently as he turned away to hide a triumphant smile.

Chapter 31

So it was that later that day, Althea, looking out from the window at the top of the stairs in the hopes that she might see a messenger bearing news of the marquess’s safe return, saw the marquess himself bowling down the drive in his curricle.

“Gracious,” she squeaked, pulling off the apron she had donned that morning to help Jenny air some of the spare bedchambers. She raced back to her own chamber where she tried to tidy up before the looking glass, tucking in stray locks of hair and wiping a smudge off her nose. Never one to linger long before the glass, she suddenly found herself most discontented with her looks on this particular day. Her nose really was far too long and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked pale and drawn. Why had she not noticed before how tired she looked?

“My lady. My lady. His lordship is here!” In her excitement, Jenny burst into her mistress’s chamber without even stopping to knock. Like the dowager, the maid had also cherished high hopes for the marquess and her mistress, hopes that had been dashed when he had driven off toward his own estate, what felt like ages ago. But now he was back, and from the sparkle in her mistress’s eyes and the slight flush rising in her cheeks, the maid could see that Lady Althea was already aware of his arrival.

“Thank you, Jenny. Show his lordship to the library and see that he is offered some refreshment. Inform him that I shall be with him directly.” Drawing on years of rigorous training, Althea tried her best to smile serenely and appear utterly unconcerned, but her heart was thudding so hard it was difficult for her to breathe and her knees felt extremely uncertain.

Why was he here? What could he have possibly come for? And how could she have longed for his return as much as she was now discovering that she had?

If Althea thought her pulses became disordered and her knees grew weak at the sight of the marquess’s curricle, it was nothing to what they became when she entered the library and found him smiling down at her with that special light in his eyes and that quizzical lift of one dark brow.

“My-my lord.” She hated herself for stammering, especially when she saw that his smile broadened as she stumbled over the words. She would have felt a great deal better if she had known that seeing her again Gareth was overwhelmed, as always, by his powerful attraction to her, an attraction that made his mouth go so dry he could not even speak, much less stammer a response to her greeting.

“I am delighted to see that you are continuing your excellent recovery.” Althea nodded to the cane that he was managing to use in place of the crutches.

“What? Oh, yes, that. I had intended to write you about it and to say that I had reached Harwood safely, but there was so much to do, so many pressing things to attend to that I never ...”

“There was no need to write. I quite understand, I assure you.” But why was he here now? Could it be that he had missed her company as much as she had missed his?

“Althea.” She looked so lovely standing there, those amazing dark-fringed eyes shining bluer than he even remembered, that he almost forgot why he had come. God, she was beautiful! God, he had missed her! “I beg your pardon. I mean
Lady
Althea. I came because I have just had a most singular idea. My friend Wilkins, the veterinary surgeon attached to my old regiment, has agreed to take you on as a student. And once you become sufficiently skilled you can replace him in looking after my horses.” In his eagerness to share his wonderful plan, he blurted it out without any sort of explanation or preparation.

“I can what?” Althea felt as though he had thrown a bucket of cold water over her. She hoped he had come simply to visit her, simply to see how she was doing, or, at the very least, because he had been thinking about her as much as she had been thinking about him—every day and every hour that they had been apart. She hoped he had come because he had discovered that he was as lonely without her as she was without him. But no, he had come because he did not trust her to manage her own life. He did not trust her to manage the estate well enough to be successful—the estate she had been clever enough to win from him—so he had come to arrange her life for her.

“That is most thoughtful of you, my lord, but I believe I have shown myself capable enough of looking after my own welfare that I do not need anyone else’s assistance.” Her voice was brittle and her eyes as cold as the ice that had given her her nickname.

“No, Althea. You do not understand. It is because you have such a gift, because my own horses prefer your care to mine, because there is a magic in you that I have never seen in anyone, except possibly Wilkins, that I had this idea. I do not wish to arrange your life, but it seems a terrible waste if you become so involved in running your own estate that this talent of yours is not given the chance to develop to its full potential.”

“Just as terrible a waste as the
ton’s
most eligible heiress retiring to the country to live out her days in rustic spinsterhood. I thought that you, unlike my parents, cared for my happiness, but now I see that you are no different from them, except that you are possibly more clever. Good day to you, my lord.” Althea swept from the room and slowly, deliberately, climbed the stairs, praying all the way that she would not dissolve into tears before she reached the privacy of her own bedchamber.

“Althea, no.” But it was too late. Not only had he not convinced her of the brilliance of his plan, he had now destroyed all hope of seeing her again. Biting his lip in anger and despair, Gareth walked back to his curricle and headed for home, to emptiness and loneliness, to a life that had suddenly lost all interest for him.

He had barely cleared the stone gateposts at the end of the drive and sprung his team when he reined them in again. She was right. He
was
trying to arrange her life, but not for the same reasons her parents were. They had been doing it out of vanity and pride. He was doing it out of desperation, because he wanted her to be with him. Because he loved her.

Trying to control his rising excitement, Gareth carefully turned around his team. Who was he trying to fool? He did not want Althea as his veterinarian; he wanted her as his wife! And if he had not been so intent on laying his plan before her, he would have told her that he had come up with the plan because he missed her, because he was seeking a reason for her to be at Harwood. Surely she had missed him as much as he had missed her. After all, she had been happy to see him when he first arrived, had she not? She had been happy until he had blurted out his plans for her future.