Fortunate Wager by Jan Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

lifting him off his feet. She and Harry followed curiously.
    ‘Let go! I’ll have the judge on you for assault,’ whined the man. Caroline recognized him as Lord Rothwell’s groom, Jessop. ‘I’m here with a message for his lordship.’
    ‘He ain’t here, you lying little guttersnipe,’ growled Flood. ‘Which you knowed all along. And even if he had been, the likes of you don’t come no further onto our property than the road. Why didn’t you tell one of the lads you’d got a message, eh?’
    ‘Didn’t give me a chance, did you?’ Jessop wrenched himself free and looked murderously at Flood. ‘You’re going to regret this.’
    ‘Not as much as you will if you set one toe inside this yard again.’
    Jessop spat on the ground and turned away. Flood watched him leave.
    ‘I know him,’ said Harry with a frown. ‘He’s been hanging around the betting ring on the heath all week.’
    ‘Up to no good, I’ll be bound,’ said Flood. ‘Always on theedge of trouble, that one.’
    ‘But what was he doing here ?’ said Caroline.
    ‘Wanted to know how we were doing with the mare of course. Either under orders or for information on his own account. Wouldn’t put it past him. Mr Harry’s ain’t the only money riding on this bet.’
    ‘Already?’ said Caroline, appalled. She looked back at the paddock anxiously, but Solange had moved over to the far side and was cropping the grass. The raised voices didn’t seem to have disturbed her. Even so … ‘The next time I see Lord Rothwell, I’m going to have words about that groom of his,’ she said with decision.
    Harry and Flood exchanged grins. Caroline ignored them.
     
    As it happened, she saw his lordship at church the very next day. She and Harry were sitting dutifully alongside the rest of the family waiting for the service to start when there was a disturbance in the doorway. Everybody’s heads craned discreetly in that direction. Lord Rothwell and another gentleman were apologizing to the sidesmen for their tardiness. Now they were being ushered to the pews reserved for the nobility. Caroline felt her eyes widen. She had thought Lord Rothwell well turned out, but his friend was positively exquisite! His coat and pantaloons were an exact match for each other in pearly grey, his waistcoat was figured cream silk, his neckcloth fell in snow-white folds, his gold locks had been styled by a master and not a speck of dirt sullied his highly polished top-boots. Hers was not the only mouth agape. Every young woman under All Saints’ vaulted roof was casting admiring glances. And didn’t he know it, thought Caroline, observing the tiny air of satisfaction in his bearing. The exquisite allowed himself a contented look around the packed church before sitting down on the other side of the aisle from Caroline.
    What a dandy, she thought, and was cross with herself for having followed the herd. She leant back as his gaze reached her, not wanting to pander further to his self-esteem. For a fraction ofa second his eyes rested on Harry instead – and to Caroline’s astonishment a look of vitriolic dislike flashed across his face.
    She blinked, but now Lord Rothwell was easing himself onto the bench and cutting his friend off from view. Had she imagined that look? Surely she must have done. Why would anyone hate Harry ? She murmured an enquiry of her brother as to the gentleman’s identity.
    Harry glanced across. ‘Who? Oh, that’s Giles d’Arblay. Goes it a bit at Crockford’s.’
    So he obviously didn’t think there was a problem. Caroline slid another glance sideways. Lord Rothwell was staring ahead so rigidly that she knew he was aware of her. How silly. But she certainly had no wish to distinguish him after his rudeness yesterday. As the service wore on, however, the humour of the situation struck her. There they were, both pointedly ignoring each other whilst seated not three feet apart. By the Nunc Dimittis she was hard pressed not to scream with