Page 11 of Beth: A Regency Romance Novell

A rake. But to disappear with a member of the duke’s family? Surely he’d expect repercussions for such an act, whether the lady was willing or not. but why was Beth upset? She should be excited, eager, madly in love. She must have gone willingly. “What about his cattle?” Marcus persisted. Grooms did take note of horseflesh.

“Unmatched. Sorry lot, I thought ’em.”

“Seen any of them before?”

He took off his hat and scratched his head “Can’t says I have… but the chestnut was a prime goer. Dull coat, but a prime piece of horseflesh all the same. White markings on its feet.”

“All four?” Marcus asked as his pulse quickened.

He nodded. “No carriage horse I thought at the time.”

Could be the gelding Marcus had seen at a Tattersall’s auction. If it was the same animal, the thoroughbred had stirred his interest. He’d intended to purchase it, but didn’t make it to the auction. He didn’t know who bought it.

Returning inside, he made his way to the library where a few of his friends might have congregated. The evening was drawing to a close, although guests still remained to chat in the reception rooms. There was no sign of Mrs. Grayshott, fortunately, for he doubted her ability to remain silent. It wouldn’t be he who told her Beth had left with a gentleman, although it was only a matter of time before the story got out.

In the ballroom, the musicians packed up their instruments, while the staff swept up the chalk from the dance floor. Others moved furniture. When the family rose after noon tomorrow, the rooms would be in perfect order.

Marcus entered the library where four of his friends stood around the glowing embers of a coal fire with glasses of whiskey.

“Marcus, where did you get to?” Jason Pomphrey asked as Marcus crossed the Turkey carpet to them. “You missed some very amusing anecdotes and a bit of juicy gossip. Imagine! Lord Knott has proposed marriage to his mistress!”

“That’s good news,” Marcus said. “They’ve been together for years after all.”

“Yes, but why the devil marry her?” Pomphrey shook his head. “Had the best of both worlds. Now he will have a wife always at him for something or other.”

The men fell silent and lowered their gaze to the glasses in their hands. It was common knowledge Pomphrey’s wife was shrewish and made his life difficult.

Marcus poured himself a whiskey from the drink’s tray on the sideboard then came to join them. “Before you take your leave do any of you know who bought that chestnut with the four white feet at Tattersalls a month ago?”

“A month is a long time,” Christian Burnette said with a yawn. “Can’t remember what I did yesterday.” A trifle disguised, but well within his limits, he said his farewells and made his way slowly to the door.

Herbert Gratton followed declaring the same aim. He turned at the door. “I believe it was Ramsey. I remember thinking at the time that the ramshackle baron shouldn’t

have the gelding. Too good for him. He’s in Dun territory it’s said. His stable is appallingly kept.”

Ramsey! Marcus remembered seeing him earlier. Fair and good-looking, Ramsey fitted the groom’s description. “Anyone see him tonight?”

“I did, but not since he danced past me with the pretty debutante, Miss Harrismith,” Lawson said.

“Know his address?” Marcus asked idly.

Herbert chuckled. “I can see you’ve developed a yen for that horse.” He turned to Frederick Lawson. “Doesn’t Ramsey live in King Street?”

Frederick nodded. “Yes. When he’s in Town.”

Marcus tossed back his whiskey. “Well I’m for bed. Coming gentlemen?”

“Ramsey has a house down Twickenham way, inherited it from an aunt a year or so ago. Might be there if you don’t find him in London,” Frederick said as they went in pursuit of their hostess to compliment her on another excellent ball. “Only reason I know was because he told me while in his cups and losing at cards. I might have won it.” He shrugged. “But then he began to win. I lost a fortune that night.”

Fortunately, Frederick was extremely wealthy, and didn’t seem too dismayed. Should he call first at the baron’s townhouse? It would be shut up and Marcus considered it more likely that if Ramsey had taken Beth, it would be to Twickenham. He would hardly risk being seen with her here in London. Servants did talk. “Know the address?”

Frederick shook his head. “A few miles past Richmond on the river. Old stone house on about thirty acres. Ramsey said it should be pulled down. Said it was haunted.” Frederick chuckled. “Told him I didn’t believe in ghosts, but he seemed unnerved by it.”

Now he had an address, Marcus was eager to be off. He accepted an invitation to dinner Saturday next and cards at White’s the following week. He moved off toward the staircase with a backward wave.

“Hope you persuade him to part with it,” Herbert called after him as Marcus took to the stairs. “You’ll take far better care of that horse.”

After Marcus claimed his hat and coat from the footman, he hurried to his home a mere block away. He raced up the stairs into his bedchamber and called for his valet. With Burn’s help, a bare twenty minutes later, dressed in his riding clothes, he carried a lamp to the stables in the mews behind his townhouse. All lay in darkness, the horses shuffling in their boxes, the sweet smell of fresh hay, saddle oil and horses greeting him. He hung up the lamp and removed Zeus from his stall.

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