Page 18 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“What did he offer you?” asked Lucius.
“Twice what I paid. It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll never sell Vengeance to the duke. He and his son are both cruel to their mounts. I can’t imagine his stable master or trainer being any different if they work for Scuttleton.”
“Vengeance? Interesting name.”
“I thought it fitting, Lord Page.” She turned to Jensen. “Thank you for your help. I’ll be fine for now.”
Jensen bowed and left the parlor.
“Why does Scuttleton want the animal so badly?”
“From what I’ve learned, Vengeance is a descendant of The Godolphin Barb, a horse gifted to Louis XV from the Bay of Tuins. Barb was also mistreated and ended up a cart horse until Lord Godolphin found him and brought him to England in 1738, breeding him to produce excellent racing stock.” She shrugged. “I will not let the abuse happen to his line again.”
She was magnificent when her temper was up. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up the stairs…
“Stop thinking whatever it is you are thinking,” she demanded. “I know that smirk.”
***
Christiana spent part of the afternoon with Lord Bentson, delivering Christmas boxes to staff and tenants. The aged man had insisted on accompanying her, and he was as entertaining with the villagers as he was with her guests. When she returned, Lady Elwood was waiting for her, her chin wobbling, brown eyes bright with excitement. “You must tell me what happened this morning. Lord Frederick stormed past me on my way to the breakfast room, muttering about difficult women and horse flesh. I said good day to him, and he yelled—yelled, mind you—that it most certainly was not a good day.”
“Oh my.” Christiana wondered if the man would grow tired of the contest and leave. She could only hope. “I’m sure he’s calmed down. He was only upset because I wouldn’t sell him the racehorse, and he’s forced to stay with us longer.”
“As if he’s a prize himself!” Lady Elwood sniffed. “This is so much more entertaining. What is in store for us today?”
“All will be revealed when we meet in the drawing room.” Christiana hurried to change, knowing the rest of her guests would soon be waiting.
“This color is so becoming on you,” said Constance as she helped her mistress with the mulberry spencer, which matched her bodice, and the overdress of her pale lilac skirt. “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?”
Christiana wore several layers of petticoats, preparing for the next contest that would be outdoors. She grinned, thinking of the scheme she and the Widows League had devised.
“The guests are having a positive effect on you, my lady.” Constance skillfully twisted Christiana’s hair and pinned it up. “I heard you humming this morning when I came in.”
“I’m…” What was she? Happy? Yes. Content? Not yet.
“Does it have anything to do with the handsome Lord Page?” Her maid locked eyes with Christiana in the mirror as she put the finishing touches on her mistress’s hair.
“It might.” It did. Her mood had everything to do with him. She felt like a young girl again, but with that came the insecurities of her youth. How could he possibly want her after what she had done to him? It made no sense. Perhaps this was a plot to avenge his pride.
Don’t be ridiculous.
She joined the rest of her guests in the entrance hall, having sent them word to dress warmly. Lord Bentson was laughing with Lord and Lady Elwood, Lord Frederick sulked near the door, and Lord Page was outside, speaking with her butler.
Constance followed her with her fur-lined cape. “Are we ready?” Christiana asked the group. They nodded or murmured they were. “Excellent. Shall we?” She led the way outside to a closed sleigh.
The Elwoods climbed in, followed by Lord Bentson and Lord Frederick. She looked to Lucius, who shook his head. “There is nothing you could do—well, almost nothing—to convince me to be trapped inside a conveyance with that imbecile. I will follow on horseback.”
She envied him, especially when she realized she’d have to sit next to Lord Frederick. “Very well.” As Lucius helped her up the steps, Christiana saw Lord Bentson scoot closer to Lord Frederick and pat the empty seat beside him with a wink.
“You dear man,” she murmured as she eased onto the velvet squab. “I could give you a point just for your chivalry.”
“Not to worry, my dear. An old man like myself has learned to sense certain things.” His thick gray brows wiggled up and down. “Your gratitude could always include an extra point.”
She laughed. As the pair of black coach horses sped across the snow-covered ground, she listened to the Elwoods speak of their children and grandchildren. Christiana realized Lord Elwood was much more congenial than she’d thought. He obviously doted on his wife—something she never would have guessed from their previous meetings. He laughed heartily at something she said, and Christiana wondered if they had been a love match or if their affection had grown over the years.
Bells jingled to the rhythm of the horses’ trotting pace. The landscape sped by, glossy white fields, great oaks without their leaves, the bare branches seeming to reach for some unseen object. Pine trees added color to the bare woods. She saw a hare dash out from its burrow and duck back inside. The sleigh came to a stop. The group stood before five large sections of tree trunks, each with a rope secured to it.
“The winner of the contest will be the one who moves his slice of tree trunk the farthest,” she announced. “They are all approximately the same shape and weight, so no one is at a disadvantage.”
