Page 33 of The Risky Wager of a Masked Lady
“She’s really a good girl, just doesn’t have half a mind to racing yet. I think you’ll be just the right man to teach her the way of it! Be off, the others are already at their paces. Introduce yourself and tell them I sent you, and state that Winter is to start training with them today.”
Jonathan nodded and turned the horse by the reins, grateful to put some distance between him and the stables. It was just far enough to the practice ring that he might clear his head.
Chapter 15
“Good morning, brother. I didn’t expect you to return so soon from your trip. I trust your appointments were profitable?” Lady Lasconia said as she smeared butter on a cinnamon scone. She set down her pastry and leaned to the side when she realized Gregory had continued walking without answering her. Her response was shrill and grating. “Gregory! I’ve spoken to you!”
In the hallway, the Duke of Fenworth stopped and let his shoulders slump. He chanced a look at himself in the gilt-edged mirror and was saddened by what he saw. Yes, his age was assuredly farther along than many of the peers, and to be sure, men of his age were proud fathers or even fortunate enough to be grandfathers. But his white hair, sunken cheeks and eye sockets, and stooped back always managed to surprise him.
He simply did not think of himself as so old.
“Best to get this over with,” he muttered to himself before returning to the small, sunny room where his sister sat enjoying her breakfast.
“Ah, yes. Angeline. How silly of me not to see you sitting here. What was that you were saying?” he asked in a thin, uninterested voice.
“I said,” she repeated pointedly, looking up from her long-troubled scone, “I did not expect you to come in last night. I rather thought you’d arrive today or tomorrow even, and in the light of day so that the ton has no reason to speculate about your comings and goings in the middle of the night.”
“I rather suspect that the ton has finally grown bored with discussing my whereabouts and my activities, sister. Their interest in me has long since faded… thank the good Lord above for that.”
“Still, it is not seemly, especially now that word is spreading like a poison that you are entertaining thoughts of marriage,” Angeline replied, sneering at the memory of her one meeting with her brother’s intended choice of a wife.
“I assure you, the ton isn’t talking about it yet. How could they when I’ve only just recovered from the shock myself!” Gregory teased. His sister was not to be swayed with humor.
“As you’re aware, I’ve now met the girl and I cannot say that I approve.” Her voice was firm and final, and for a moment, Gregory felt a sharp familiar pain in his chest.
“I see. Will you be explaining why that is?” he asked plainly, his voice already losing its steady measure.
“I’ll inform you in due course. It was only our first meeting after all, but on the surface, I found her rude, overly familiar, and far too controlling of that sister of hers. I quite wondered if her sister was, in fact, a simpleton after the way Lady Marjorie kept answering for her. You cannot possibly marry someone and breed with her if idiocy runs in her family line.”
Gregory was quiet. So that was her excuse now, was it? That Lady Marjorie’s sister might not be on the same intellectual level with others of their acquaintance? He had to think hard to remember, it had been so long ago… what had been Angeline’s objection to the Countess de Rosinde? That she was not fair enough and would produce ugly children. And Lady Emilie Crighton, who’d been uninterested in cards and showed her elbows once when her gloves slipped at a ball. And not to forget the quite beautiful Lady Angelica, whose only fault had been having a name too close to Angeline’s, giving his sister the impression that they would forever be receiving each other’s letters and invitations by mistake.
“That’s how this is to be then, is it?” Gregory asked quietly, looking down at the burgundy rug and blinking.
“How what is to be? Speak up!” his sister ordered, her shrill voice causing the dog in her lap to jump down and crawl under the table.
“My marriage. This one’s toougly, that one’s toofat, that one is only interested in your lands and title,brother dear. Now this one might chance be related to someone who isn’t pleasant at conversation, who doesn’t enjoy playing at cards? Is that it, sister?” His tone became sharper with every word.
Angeline looked horrified. “How dare you! You will not speak to me thus! I am only looking after your interests, exactly as I have done my entire life! I have left my own husband alone all these years so that I might oversee this estate since you have never bothered to wed. Far too busy out and about, a playboy on the continent? Is that it? And this is how you thank me!”
For a moment, Gregory faltered. He wanted to resume the familiar pattern, the groveling beside her chair while he begged her forgiveness for not thinking highly enough of her. Instead, he straightened his stooped back, raised his chin, and bellowed, “That is quite enough!”
The dog, who’d only moments ago decided it might be safe to venture out and retrieve a morsel of scone that had fallen, yelped in surprise and leapt back under the table. Angeline, for her part, appeared ready to do the same.
She sat, open-mouthed and in obvious shock, crumbs from her breakfast falling to her plate. She paid them no mind. Briefly, it looked as though she might try to argue, a steely glint flashing in her ice blue eyes. But at the last moment, Angeline resorted to a whole other tactic, one that was to be reserved for moments of dire need.
Angeline threw herself to the tabletop, ignoring the delicate place setting in front of her, and sobbed loudly. Her shoulders heaved as she wailed, crying out at the obvious injustice the world had inflicted upon her.
Gregory merely rolled his eyes. It was not possible to reach his age and live alongside this insufferable sibling for as long as he had without becoming used to Angeline’s arsenal of weapons. He waited, tapping his foot rather impatiently, for her screams to subside.
At once, upon hearing the commotion, several members of the household staff appeared to assist in any way they could, but Gregory only smiled at them and waved them back with a gentle flick of his hand. They curtsied quickly and fled, grateful to be spared dealing with the aftermath of Lady Lasconia’s rage.
“Are you quite finished?” Gregory demanded when his sister’s sobs quieted somewhat. She sat up sharply, surprised by his question.
“I don’t know how you can look at yourself in the mirror after the way you’ve spoken to me today,” she said, sniffling indignantly. “After all I’ve done for you. Here I’ve kept your home so you could go flitting off to appointments and not even be bothered to send word ahead that you were returning…”
“No one is keeping you here, sister,” he answered in a low but even voice.
“I beg your pardon!” Angeline spat out, fury welling up inside her again.
