Highest Stakes (5 page)

  "'Twas a remarkable day indeed. I regret having missed the start of Rosie's race."

  Charlotte's face fell.

  "But the mare did run," he hastily added, "and she ran superbly, Charlotte. She routed Lord Hastings's Hawke."

  "Splendid! Absolutely splendid, Charles. But how can it be? You can't mean to say that Robert rode?"

  "Indeed he did, though I literally caught only the tail end of it. His riding in the last few furlongs was nothing short of brilliant. I'm convinced that none other should have accomplished it. M'father doesn't give the man enough credit."

  "He never has. 'Tis so unfair of Uncle. Robert deserves the opportunity to prove himself. Uncle could have one of the finest racing studs in Yorkshire if he would only give Robert a chance."

  "You bring up another point, Charlotte. After the race, Devington pressed his suit for you."

  "Did he! Surely it was an opportune moment to do so! Uncle could not possibly have been in a better humor to listen. And?" She waited expectantly.

  "And father threatened to dismiss him if he ever broached the subject again. I'm sorry, Charlotte."

  Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. "I must speak with him,
now
, Charles. You must take me to him."

  "But the ball," he protested. "The dancing will soon commence."

  "What do I care? You know I despise these balls. Seas of faces I shall never encounter again. Scores of names I shan't ever recall, even if I cared to. Not to mention the dancing. I scarce can remember the simplest steps. Surely we can slip away for a short while."

  "You can't claim to need air. We are already strolling out- of-doors."

  "Then it must be infirmity."

  "But that would require that I take you back to the inn," he moaned.

  She regarded him with stubborn determination.

  "Must you jut your chin so, Charlotte?"

  The mulish look became a glare. "Will you take me or not, Charles? If you refuse, don't doubt that I shall slip away on my own, though with the grounds so ill-lit beyond the pavilions, I daresay I should need to carry something for protection."

  He knew she would carry out her threat. Charles groaned in submission to the blackmail. Charlotte spoke briefly to her aunt, pleading a headache, but the lady was too preoccupied with her own diversion to pay much heed.

  "Charles"—his mother turned to him—"I have noted a remarkable shortage of eligible gentlemen for dancing, particularly in light of the prodigious number who turned out for the races." She spoke deprecatingly. "You
will
return to lead your sister out to dance, should she lack partners. This is not a
request
, mind you."

  The beleaguered Charles, wishing the world completely devoid of womankind, vowed to return as promptly as possible. Their excuses made, Charlotte and Charles then slipped away to the paddocks.

Mortified at the thought of dancing with her brother, Beatrix renewed her hunt for the officer she had selected to lead her out for the first dance, but he was nowhere in sight. Surely he was even now seeking her in the crowds. She had worn her very best silk gown in shades of yellow and gold to match her hair, but perhaps she hadn't made herself conspicuous enough.

"Mother, we have yet to inspect the last pavilion," Beatrix insisted.

  "But we have already partaken of food and drink aplenty at all of the others," Lady Felicia replied.

  "But Mama," she persisted, "there's a large crowd gathered hither. Should we not investigate? Mayhap there is something or someone of interest."

  Sir Garfield interrupted his wife and daughter at this point. "Quite slipped my mind, m'dears, regretfully, as I know how these matters signify to ladies. There is indeed a person of great consequence at the races this year. Had the privilege to be introduced myself. 'Tis a
Monsoor Com d'Grun
something-er-other, come all the way from the court of
Louis Cans
."

  "A French nobleman, Papa? A courtier of the king? How could you be so cruel not to say so earlier?"

  "Indeed, Sir Garfield, 'twas unforgivably remiss of you," his wife scolded. "You must think of our son and daughter, who can only benefit from even the remotest connection to such a personage. You must perform introductions at once! But confound it, Charles is departed with Charlotte. You must contrive an introduction for him on the morrow," his wife insisted.

  "Charles was present, m'dear, but 'twas a very brief encounter. He and Lord Gower came upon me for a matter of business."

  His wife stopped in her tracks. "What possible business could you have with a French count?"

  "'Twas a matter of a horse, m'dear. Seems the
monsoor
was quite taken with Rosie. Offered a thousand quid for the mare."

  "A thousand, you say! 'Tis a king's ransom, Sir Garfield."

  "Quite literally, madam," he said with a laugh.

  "We shall be infamous for it!"

  "'Twas quite what I thought, m'dear."

  "Then surely we must be made known to this count, Sir Garfield." Taking her husband by the arm, Lady Felicia dragged him to the crowded pavilion.

  By the time they were cognizant of the activities within, it was too late. The crowds pressed so tightly, there was scarce room to maneuver, let alone escape. The sixth pavilion, they discovered, was solely to entertain unencumbered gentlemen.

  "Sir Garfield!" Lady Felicia exclaimed, attempting to shield her daughter's eyes from the open debauchery, but not succeeding before Beatrix had looked her fill, immediately spotting and fixating on her elusive quarry. Seated at a card table was her handsome officer. Resplendent in his crimson coat, his pristine breeches were further adorned by a voluptuous, painted doxy.

  As if feeling the weight of Beatrix's gaze, Captain Drake glanced up from his cards, straight into her face, and without the least modicum of shame, winked!

  With a gasp of outrage, Beatrix spun around to push and shove her way out of the tent. "How dare he amuse himself at my expense!"

  For years she had been the one to mercilessly toy with the young men of her acquaintance. It had been her personal challenge to reduce them to pathetic little lap dogs who begged for her favors.

  But not this man! Never had she been treated with such contempt. And to be cast aside for a painted whore was not to be borne! Oh, he would pay for this, Beatrix vowed. If ever he crossed her path again in this lifetime, he would surely pay.

Charles, preceding Charlotte by a pace or two, arrived as Robert, exhausted from the day, made ready to bed down for the night.

  "Won't do at all, Robert," Charles declared. "If anyone sees you bedding down like a groom, 'twill be sure disaster. You must, at the least, retire to the inn. Surely there is a loft above the stables or some such to be had. Even failing that, you could make do in the coach, but let none see you now as our groom."

  "Robert." Heedless of her cousin's presence, Charlotte stepped forward, extending her hands. Robert clasped them in his own, pulling her close. "I am so sorry I missed your ride. It must have been glorious! I wish with all my heart that I might have seen it. My uncle is in such rare good humor this evening."

  "He has reason. Your filly has garnered him fame and fortune in one fell swoop."

  "I doubt the fame should last long, and the hundred guineas was hardly a fortune by my uncle's account."

  "Then have you not heard? Charles, you craven," he accused. "You've not told her yet!"

  "Told me what, Robert?" Alarm reflected in her eyes.

  "He has sold her, my love. Sir Garfield has sold Rosie to some pompous, painted, and befrilled French count, who is taking her to France after the races."

  "Rosie? France? I don't understand! Rosie is mine!" Charlotte protested. "No one cared for her but me! I'm the one who believed in her, nurtured and loved her, taught her to run. You all would have cast her off as nothing! Even Jeffries had failed to see her potential. How could he do this to me?" Sobbing, she threw herself into Robert's comforting arms.

  "Your uncle is a man completely devoid of sentiment, Charlotte. You know this. He cares naught for anyone lest they serve him a greater purpose, and today Rosie served him well. 'Twas at your expense and to his shame, and I'm deeply aggrieved by your loss." Robert spoke with earnest eloquence.

  "But look at the bright side," Charles said cheerily, "her exceptional performance today earned her a place as one of King Louis's broodmares. She shall live out her life as a queen of equines in the stables at Versailles. Quite an honor, if you consider it, Charlotte. And I can't say I've ever seen m'father more ebullient."

  "Even so, Charles, I fear his humor shall never be sufficiently charitable where I am concerned," Robert remarked.

"Surely m' father shall come around in time."

  "Never, Charles. The day shall never arrive that he will perceive me as an equal."

  Charlotte ardently protested. "Don't say so!"

  "Today, so that your uncle might have his racing victory, I went so far as to announce myself your bridegroom. After thus perjuring myself for his gain, he was offered a thousand guineas for the mare. Knowing I should never see a more propitious moment, I pressed my advantage. I begged that he should grant our betrothal in truth, but he threatened to give me the boot. He means it, Charlotte. As long as I am in his employ, I shall never be more to him than some mindless lackey!"

  "What
he thinks
signifies nothing! I know you for the man you are, and
you are
the man I love." She stroked his cheek with tenderness. "Only this is of consequence. If he will not be moved, then we will just run away together. I have my father's timepiece and my mother's pearls. Surely they could sustain us for a time."

  "But only for a time, my love, and notwithstanding that I could never allow it. As it is, without your dowry, we could scarce feed ourselves. No, my love, I am resolved to make my own way and return to you only with respectability and means. Unless I can provide for you in at least a modest semblance of the manner to which you are accustomed, there should be a perpetual cloud dimming our happiness."

  "How can you say so?" she pleaded. "
Our love
is what matters."

  "Charlotte, a woman must respect the man she marries, and should I fail to support a wife and family by living hand-to-fist, I would never be worthy of your respect or your love. I
must
make my own way."

  "But how? You aren't going away?"

  "I must."

  "B-but for how long?" Her voice broke; her heart wrenched.

  "That I cannot answer, my love, but we are young. We have time." He drew her hands to his heart.

  "When will you leave?" Her lip quivered.

  "Soon."

  "Oh, my love. My only love." Charlotte flung herself into his arms.