Page 56 of Lady of Fortune
With love? What did she mean by that? He desperately yearned to return her note with acceptance of her offer to meet him elsewhere, to allow him to avoid the Viscount at all costs. But this was Julia's night. While only he would be aware that she was the winning jockey, to all others she was one of the winning owners, and therefore it was only right that she have the opportunity to celebrate amongst her peers.
He would go, congratulate her once more, and then wish her all the best in life before he would bid her farewell — forever. The thought caused a dull ache to begin to throb within his chest.
Though it was but a couple of hours later when Eddie entered the doors of the home the Viscount was renting during race week, he thought to himself of how foolish he had been. No one present here would be interested in the company of a jockey — in addition to one who had not even raced and would now be held under a mountain of suspicion.
Eddie arrived hoping to stay inconspicuous, but before he could extricate himself, the butler ushered him directly toward the Viscount and Viscountess Dorchester.
"May I present Mr. Francis?" said the butler before continuing on with his duties, and Eddie fixed him with a glare, though inwardly he knew that the man was simply doing his job, despite Eddie's protestations at the introduction.
He turned now toward the pair, finding Dorchester looking back at him with a pair of eyes that were all too familiar, although these lacked warmth or humor. No, these hazel eyes were cold, calculating, and were now trained on him with a look that would have sent a lesser man hurriedly running out the door.
"Oh, Mr. Francis, the jockey?" the woman beside him, obviously his wife, exclaimed. "I have so enjoyed watching you. It has been a pleasure."
Her face was round, her smile wide and inviting. Her eyes were actually kind, and as Eddie looked back and forth between husband and wife, he could sense just how different they were, how unfitting their match had likely been. Thank God his mother had escaped the man. Dorchester still retained the fine looks that had likely drawn Eddie’s mother in years ago, but Eddie was unsure whether or not the icy stare had been there at the time.
Although perhaps that expression was reserved for Eddie alone.
"Thank you, Lady Dorchester," Eddie said, smiling over the lady's hand, and she flushed slightly.
"What brings you here this evening?" the Viscount asked in a cold tone, which made it quite clear that Eddie had obviously not been invited, nor was he welcomed. "I heard that today you —"
"He is here as my guest," came a deep voice from behind Eddie, which surprised him immensely. He turned, shocked to find the Duke of Clarence standing there as regal as ever, his stare now fixed on Dorchester.
"I see," the Viscount said coolly, as rude as he could possibly be toward a man such as the Duke without crossing any social constructs. "Welcome, Your Grace. Please come in, with your... guest."
As they turned to walk away, Eddie could feel the harsh stare burning into his back.
"I hear you have had a difficult day," the Duke said good-naturedly as he led Eddie toward a servant standing with a tray of drinks in hand.
"You could say that," Eddie said, wary at the sudden friendliness of the Duke. What could the man want with him?
"It's unfortunate that you have become the victim of ill will between men who have nothing better to do than play with their horses and spend money they likely did not come by honestly," the Duke said somewhat bitterly.
"That's how it always goes, isn't it?" Eddie asked, somewhat resigned now to all that had happened. "The nobility play and others are punished?"
"Not always," the Duke said before admitting, "Though usually."
Clarence regarded him now as though he were assessing Eddie's thoughts before remarking so casually that it took Eddie a moment to register what he said, "You did very well training Lady Julia."
"Pardon me?" Eddie said, slightly choking on his drink.
"I said that you did well with Lady Julia. I've never seen a rookie jockey race so expertly. Though she and that horse are quite bonded, and that would help, I should say."
The man spoke as though Julia had painted a beautiful watercolor or embroidered a colorful tapestry. Certainly not as though she had raced her horse — and won — the Two Thousand Guineas.
Eddie finally recovered, looking around furtively to ensure that no others overheard this conversation.
"How did you know?" he asked in a low voice, but the Duke simply smiled sardonically and shrugged.
"It wasn't overly difficult to deduce what was happening," he said. "The new rider appearing suddenly when Sam Albany passed out drunk, who made mistakes yet still finished so successfully. The fact that from afar I have seen a curly blonde tendril escape the hat of said jockey, James Smith, and yet when I met the man, he turned out to be none other than the red-haired Will Scott, a jockey I hired years ago. That Lady Julia suddenly disappears during each race, then magically reappears minutes after its finish, looking somewhat disheveled. And finally, that she has been spending so much time with you, a jockey. What has led the two of you together, hmm? I do not mean for this to come across as rude, but it is not as though you run in the same social circles."
"That we do not," Eddie said with a rueful chuckle. "I suppose, as you say, it was not much of a stretch to come up with an explanation regarding Julia's odd behavior. I thought if anyone found out, it would be her parents."
"People often only see what they want to, Mr. Francis,” the Duke said, and that was one thought upon which Eddie agreed.
“Will you share this with the Earl, or anyone else?” Eddie asked, nervous for Julia. “For if certain people learned the truth…”
“It would be devastating for Lady Julia,” the Duke said, leaning back against the column behind him. “And it would likely bring an end to your own career if it was known that you had helped her in such an endeavor.”
