Love Unexpected: A Regency Romance (The Saunders Family Saga Book 1) Read online

  He decided to push a bit more. “Jockeys are paid a lot of money. More if they win. How much are trainers paid?”

  The man’s eyes ignited, and his fists clenched. “You think I’d kill my best mate?”

  “Maybe your employer did,” he said quietly. “The man who paid you to drug the horse.”

  At this, Greenwood stood, both his fists clenched. “I trained that horse. As much as a man can love a beast, I love him. I wouldn’t do that! If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you on outside.”

  Something convinced Ernest the man was telling the truth. After all, there were many horses stabled together. Any of the other trainers or jockeys, or owners for that matter, would have had access to Virginia’s Prize. And surely that was more likely.

  “Sit down, Greenwood. Tell me honestly, have you seen anyone else who shouldn’t have been there hanging about this horse’s stall?”

  “Now you’re starting to think straight. But it could have been any other trainer or jockey who’s got leave to be in the stable. I’m not with my horses all the time. I want this bloke caught, but I think it’s going to have to be through the other end. Him what paid to have Ginny’s Prize drugged.”

  “A bettor,” Ernest said.

  “Or another owner. If Ginny’s Prize don’t win, Refulgent or Vulcan probably will. They won the April Meetings.”

  Ernest made a note. “Thank you, Mr. Greenwood. That will be all for now.”

  “You catch this bloke. I want to see him swing for Arnie.”

  After tapping the table with all ten fingernails, he bounced up and was gone.

  * * *

  Ernest stayed in the taproom, trying to pick up any gossip he could from jockeys and trainers for the rest of the day, but he only heard more of what he already had. General thinking was that Simpson had drugged the horse and either Greenwood or Huggins was paid to murder him. There was speculation on who the mysterious principal was, but no one could seem to agree.

  .At the end of the day, he went back to his rooms, finished the account of his findings in his letter to Lady Deveridge, which also served to compose his thoughts, and composed another letter to Strangeways. He sent them both off by night mail. They would arrive in London by morning.

  Chapter Nine

  Marianne was growing more than tired of invalidism. Her headache was nearly gone, and she almost had her strength back. She had had plenty of time to be grateful that she was not dead like the poor jockey, Simpson, she had been told about.

  She had begun pursuing her needlework and her knitting again, but she was thoroughly bored, and a part of her she was trying to ignore wished for the captain’s return. She was more than surprised, and quite a bit gratified to receive his letter. Marianne appreciated the care he had taken to keep her apprised of the situation.

  Gweet was having the time of her life playing with Penny’s little son, Sammy, and going about town during the day with Arabella and Penny to Hatchards to buy books, Gunter’s for ices, and Bond Street to buy all manner of fripperies. She even went to the British Museum to see the exhibits her father had contributed before his death. While Marianne could have accompanied the group in theory, she was cautioned not to by Beau and Penny, as she was liable to be attacked by debilitating headaches at any time.

  And so when Captain Saunders returned to Wellingham House, he found her in the apricot sitting room alone, the other ladies having departed for a trip to the modiste, taking Gweet with them. Beau was at the Foreign Office.

  “Good afternoon, my lady,” he greeted her. “May I say you are looking lovely, but a bit vexed?”

  She was surprisingly glad to see him but quickly put these feelings down to boredom.

  “You find me much improved. It was so kind of you to write to me of your progress.”

  “I’m no further with the facts, but I do have some rumors to look into. How are you feeling?”

  “Surprisingly well, thank you. I never did thank you for getting me into the house and seeing to it that I was treated with ice. Who knows but that I might be much worse off had it not been for your actions.”

  “I’m glad I could help. You gave me quite a scare.”

  His words warmed, but embarrassed her. She changed the subject back to the investigation which intrigued her.

  “Do you buy the theory that the jockey drugged Virginia’s Prize?

  “As I wrote there are a lot of theories about. I need to look further. As I wrote Refulgent and Vulcan are two horses that have been winning without Strangeways’s horse in the mix. Their trainers or jockeys would have had access to Virginia’s Prize any time Simpson, Greenwood, or Gibson weren’t about.”

  Marianne said, “So we still do not know if it was a bettor or an owner who instigated the attack. That leaves most of England as suspects!”

  “If it’s a bettor, he would have to be betting on a pretty large scale to take such risks. I don’t think this was done by your average bloke who puts down half a crown. Simpson could have discovered the plot and threatened to expose it, or he could have been its facilitator, as I said.”

  “How will you proceed?” she asked. It was very hard to stay on topic when she was so ruffled by his presence. But she was trying to be businesslike.

  “I have a few ideas. Someone may be doing this because they are desperate for funds. I will have my man of business chase down that angle. The King’s Plate is next week. We will see how Virginia’s Prize does there.”

  She frowned and rested her temple on a fist, thinking. “This doesn’t look exactly promising, does it?”

  “Simpson must have known what was going on. Murder seems extreme when a bribe might have served, but we have to remember that if the truth came out, the villain’s reputation would be ruined. You must know that nothing ruins a gentleman faster than cheating of any kind. I almost think it might be seen by the ton to be worse than murder.”

  He was looking very solemn and not the least jocular.

  “The truth will not be easy to determine,” she said, her spirits sinking at the thought of her assailant still unapprehended and anxious to ensure her silence.

  “Was there anything about the man you saw that could help us identify him? Did he move stiffly? Was his gait uneven? How was he dressed?”

  Marianne closed her eyes for a moment, trying to call up a vision of the man she had seen entering the race horse’s stall.

  “I took him for a groom, so he must have been dressed like one. As for his gait, I would not say that he moved like a young man. He was more deliberate, if that makes any sense.”

  “Yes, it does. Would you recognize him from the back if you saw him again?”

  “I do not believe so. Not enough to accuse a man of battery. I was still a distance away from the stall when I saw him.”

  He frowned. Marianne did not like to see him so downhearted. She said, “It seems like if this Refulgent or Vulcan wins the King’s Plate, it will point to their owners.”

  “But would they be so obvious? I guess I just need to put myself in a place to hear the gossip. The good thing is that the betting public has no idea I’m associated with the Strangeways operation.”

  “Sounds like a thankless task.”

  “Possibly, but there are such things as ‘tells.’”

  “You mean as in card playing?”

  “Yes. In my years at sea, especially these last two years when I’ve served as captain, I was judge and jury over any incidents that occurred on my ship. We also spend a great deal of time on ship playing cards. You get to know what people do with their eyes and their hands when they are lying or bluffing.”

  Marianne thought about this. “But you are not judge and jury here. This is England. We do not convict based on ‘tells.’”

  “No. They will just give me a direction to go with my further investigations.”

  She gave a little huff of exasperation. “I wish I could help somehow. But I suppose all your conversations will occur at clubs.”

  “An
d evening entertainments. Are you attending those yet?”

  “Not yet. But I think now I will start again. A little headache should not stop me.”

  “You are still getting those?”

  “Yes. But staying at home is most vexatious! I have knitted and read until I am sick of it.”

  His eyes softened, and Marianne felt a hint of the bedside intimacy she had experienced after she was hurt.

  He said, “When you start going about, you will be in danger again. Be certain that Beau or I accompany you.”

  “Bother for you,” she said, battling the desire to spend an evening with the man at her side. “Let us change the subject. Miss Braithwaite called here. She would like to talk to you about your charity.” She looked away from him. “A particular friend of yours came with her. Her great-niece.”

  His brow furrowed. “I am supposed to know her great-niece?”

  “A very rude woman named Mrs. Octavia Langdon.”

  She watched him closely for his reaction. To be sure, there was a tell. He put his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed it, looking away from her. Captain Saunders was clearly uncomfortable.

  “Mrs. Langdon is a very acquisitive woman,” he said. “She has made too much of a bit of a flirtation on my part. Knowing we were living in the same house, she probably came to look you over.”

  That Marianne could believe. But she could not help but wonder if Mrs. Langdon was his woman in this particular port. The idea was like an arrow bursting the little bubble of warmth she had felt surrounding them.

  “What did Miss Braithwaite say about my scheme for setting up the charity for sailors?” he asked.

  “I only just mentioned it,” she said, keeping her tone level.

  “What did she think?”

  Marianne said, “She would like to meet you. I think it best if the two of you discuss it.”

  He aimed a sharp look at her. “Just what did Octavia say?”

  Now the woman was “Octavia.”

  Marianne said, “Nothing to the point. I’m afraid I must excuse myself. All the excitement of your news has brought on another of my headaches. It is time I had a rest.”

  “That is undoubtedly so,” he said, his voice even.

  “Please excuse me. Good luck with the investigation.”

  Marianne left the room before he could talk her out of it. Her emotions performed like a seesaw, and she had the notion that he was a very persuasive man. An uneasy feeling that she could be persuaded to believe he cared for her chased her up the stairs. His blue eyes alone could convince her if she let them. There was tenderness there when he spoke to her. But it must surely be counterfeit. He was, she surmised, a master at coaxing ladies to do whatever he pleased.

  All the way up to her room she said the words “sea captain” repeatedly, holding the image of Octavia Langdon in her mind.

  * * *

  When Gweet returned, she kept her mother company, spilling over with her typical enthusiasm. It was a refreshing diversion from Marianne’s own thoughts.

  “There is absolutely no reason in the world why you should not take me to Miss Braithwaite’s tomorrow. I am dying to see Henry Five again!”

  Marianne was anxious to be out of the house. She had spent far too much time reading and daydreaming as she knit. It was not good for her. Miss Braithwaite would be a good tonic.

  * * *

  Miss Braithwaite was excellent tonic. By the time Marianne and Gweet arrived, the captain had already been to see her.

  “What an excellent man he is, to be sure!” she said with a gleam in her eye. “I highly approve of his scheme. We shall have a benefit ball, and I shall ask all those I know who have country houses and the monetary means to repair them. You and Gweet shall help me to plan it!”

  Gweet’s eyes grew round as she sat on the floor feeding Henry Five, the giant tortoise, with bits of celery. “Will I be allowed to go?”

  “I’m afraid not, dear,” said Marianne.

  “There is a peephole, however,” said Miss Braithwaite. “You may watch from the next floor. I believe Lady Wellingham and the Duchess of Ruisdell, who are my companion’s nieces, used to watch from there when they were your age.”

  “Oh! Lovely!” said Gweet. “May we have a fancy-dress ball? I have always dreamt of attending a masquerade.”

  “What do you think, Lady Deveridge?” asked Miss Braithwaite.

  “I think a masquerade would be perfect. They are always so much fun. I have not been to one since before I was married.”

  “When shall we hold it? It will take us at least six weeks to plan such a thing. You know Clarice always loves to have an extravagant theme. Let me call her. She is the real expert in planning this sort of thing.”

  In minutes, Lady Clarice joined them, bringing her fat Siamese, Queen Elizabeth, who showed the amazing good sense to jump immediately into Gweet’s arms. With her white hair and statuesque frame, Lady Clarice always put Marianne in mind of a favorite aunt. She was tender and loving, complementing Miss Braithwaite’s bracing acerbity.

  “I think it must have an Italian theme,” Lady Clarice said.

  “Oh yes!” Marianne agreed. “That would be altogether splendid!”

  “We shall have a mural painted of the Tuscan countryside on lengths of muslin. I will bring in my potted citrus trees from the conservatory. They grow blood oranges in Tuscany, you know. They are the most delicious fruit.”

  “It all sounds very grand!” said Gweet.

  “Penelope has citrus trees as well. If she consents, we can hire a dray and bring them over,” said Marianne.

  “I like the captain very well,” said Lady Clarice suddenly. “I don’t know when I’ve seen such a handsome man.”

  “We are going to be married when I am eighteen,” said Gweet matter-of-factly.

  “Do not hold your breath, Gweet,” said her mother. “I have a feeling Captain Saunders is not the marrying kind.”

  * * *

  As she and Gweet walked the short distance back to Wellingham House, Marianne was lost in thoughts of the captain, when her daughter said suddenly, “Mama, someone follows us.”

  Marianne jerked herself into the present. “How can you tell?”

  “There are footsteps. And what is more they are the same footsteps that were behind us when we walked to Blossom House. Whoever it is has high heels on his boots. I am afraid to look back.”

  “Don’t!” she said. “We must just act normally until we get home. Then perhaps we can look out the window.”

  However, when they got home, a look out the window yielded them no information. Neither the captain nor Beau were at home. Marianne had to be satisfied with telling Wilson not to admit any strangers.

  Chapter Ten

  Ernest entered his brother’s house after dining at his club and went directly to the library, where he at once poured himself a drink. Beau must have been out at one of Arabella’s interminable debutante entertainments.

  He was in a foul mood, growing frustrated with Lady Deveridge’s attitude toward him. If ever there was a female who blew hot and cold, it was she.

  Octavia Langdon! He wouldn’t have had her meet up with Lady Deveridge for the world. The woman was pure trouble.

  Of course he had a past! What man didn’t? But Octavia Langdon wasn’t a feature of that past, as much as she had wanted to be. He had discovered her shrewish nature almost at once and had tried to bow out gracefully. But she wasn’t having any of it. She had him in her sights, and that was enough as far as she was concerned.

  On his last leave, Octavia had clung to him at balls and had him invited as her partner at dinner parties. Soon there were speculative items about them in the Morning Post.

  Ernest balled his right fist and slammed it into his left palm. Women! Life was much simpler at sea. But here he was in his brother’s house staying under the same roof as the loveliest woman he had ever seen and to whom he was powerfully drawn. She wasn’t the type for a casual connection, and marr
iage was no part of his plans as long as he stayed at sea.

  The only thing for it was for him to be gone from his brother’s as much as possible. If he could do it. The only problem was that she needed protection, and he wanted very much to be here as much as possible. She drew him like a wave to her shore. It was not only to her beauty but her wit and character. She was so unexpected. He must remember, when she was in a more receptive mood, to ask her about Italy.

  He fell to wondering what she would think of all the creatures of the Galápagos Islands, home to the largest turtles in the known world. He pictured her face lighting up at the sight of penguins walking in their singular way upon the frozen land of Tierra del Fuego. It would be no trouble at all to take her to all the ports of Italy if that is where she longed to go.

  He poured another drink and put more coal on the fire. When Ernest had seen the lady lying on the ground unconscious, he had feared she had broken her neck. Until he had determined she was only injured, he had felt unexpectedly bereft. The feeling had shaken him. He didn’t even know the lady! But even the idea that he might never do so was enough to send a shaft of fear through him.

  He could feel that Lady Deveridge was attracted to him. But he could also feel that she had an iron will that dictated she keep her distance from him.

  He should talk to his brother. Maybe Beau knew why she was seemingly opposed to even the merest friendship. And maybe he would go to church with the family tomorrow, so she wouldn’t think him entirely godless.

  * * *

  Ernest discovered Beau in his dressing room waiting for the ladies before they were due to depart for another ball.

  “You are the most devoted brother on the planet,” he said to him.

  “It’s the least I can do for Arabella—she was orphaned so young and has looked forward to her Season for years. It is all quite amusing actually—seeing all the young pups going after her.”

  “Any roués you’ve had to discourage?”

  “One or two. Luckily no naval officers.” Beau lit a cigar.

  Ernest grinned and settled in front of the fire. “I have a question for you.”