The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley Page 3

  With Wallis following, she set out for Hyde Park. Unlike most runners, Patriot had been trained to accept both a lady’s saddle and a man’s. Pressing her crop against Patriot’s right side as she rode, she could mimic riding astride. It was more awkward to ride that way, but it was a small price to pay to be able to ride him where others might be shocked at her riding astride.

  Hopefully, Rotten Row would be empty at this early hour, with gentlemen of the ton likely sleeping off last night’s revelry. While in London, Joanna was unable to let Patriot have his head and she feared he would lose some of the speed they worked so hard to gain. At the end of the week, Robert would take him back to Newmarket for the Second Spring Meeting. She would follow a day later, if he allowed her to attend, making faster time in a carriage than the walking pace the race horses traveled.

  A swelling in her throat threatened her breath when she considered the training of her beloved horse was most likely to end soon. She’d done all she could. She would have to be content to watch him from the sidelines with her brother.

  The trails of Hyde Park were occupied by nannies and dog walkers, their charges doing their best to run wild. Joanna kept Patriot at a calm pace, only urging him faster when they reached Rotten Row. She allowed him to trot the length of the path before turning him. As she again approached Park Lane, she heard shouts above the thundering of hooves.

  A handsome bay stallion raced past her in the opposite direction. A block behind him, a man in riding dress ran after him. Without hesitation, Joanna urged Patriot around and took chase. She clenched the pommel tightly with her bent leg, and pressed her crop firmly against Patriot’s side. Holding her horse’s mane, she bent as low over his neck as possible while sitting aside.

  She gave Patriot his head and he lengthened his stride, slowly gaining on the other horse, whose course kept shifting around the traffic. Ahead of them, men shouted to clear the road for the runaway. Joanna waited until she was beside the stallion’s head then reached for his reins while speaking to him in calming tones. Her left leg trembled with the tension of staying mounted. The other horse shied away, his eyes wide with fear.

  Joanna nearly fell, but caught herself in time. Patriot continued to keep pace with the bay, and she kept talking to it. Seeing a familiar street corner ahead, she guided Patriot toward the right, forcing the bay in that direction. The horses slowed slightly, and she heard Wallis’ mount in the distance behind them. Somehow, she managed to make the turn onto the narrow side street, which was a dead end.

  The bay slowed drastically in the crush of street peddlers, carts and shoppers. Joanna grabbed his reins, encouraging him to a walk. He whinnied and shook his head, but his ears responded to her voice. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Whatever had spooked him was now a distant memory. Patriot sidestepped beneath her, vocal in his displeasure at the other stallion’s presence. “Easy, boys, easy. There’s no mare here to challenge for.”

  She got the horses turned and met Wallis at the corner. The groom was panting as hard as his mount. “My lady! His lordship would ‘ave my ‘ide for lettin’ you ride off like that. It’s a wonder you weren’t thrown.”

  She handed off the stallion’s reins, noticing the deep crease between Wallis’s brows before she put some distance between the two stallions. Some years ago, he’d told her that more than half of his grey hairs were attributable to her escapades on horseback. He no longer spoke to her that way since her come out, but the fondness he held for her shone in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Wallis, but I knew Bertie would not carry you fast enough to catch the bay. I had to ride after him before he hurt himself.”

  “A runaway horse is not sumthin’ what should concern a lady. What will his lordship say? What will the Dowager Countess say?”

  They turned the horses back toward Rotten Row while Wallis lectured her in his fatherly way. She bit her tongue when she wanted so badly to defend herself and her love for speed. Riding fast was not ladylike. Defending oneself to the servants was even less so, even one who overstepped his place out of concern for her well-being.

  The horseless rider she’d seen earlier now trotted up on foot, obviously winded. He grinned at Wallis and reached for his horse’s bridle. “My thanks, good man.”

  Wallis leaned forward with the reins. “It’s milady you should be thanking, milord.”

  Something was familiar about the finely dressed man, and Wallis seemed to know him. She couldn’t quite place the handsome face, but was certain she’d seen him quite recently.

  He flashed her a brilliant smile. “Ah, my lady, then. I am much in your debt. Triton was not of a mind to take a leisurely stroll this morning.”

  “Fernleigh’s Triton?”

  “Yes, the same. You’ve heard of him?”

  “Heard of him? I’ve seen him race.” She laughed, now realizing she must be speaking to Lord Bridgethorpe’s son. She looked again at the large bay with no distinguishable markings. “Had I known it was him I chased, I might have let him escape. We lost to him at Newmarket.”

  “We? Forgive me, my lady, but while you look familiar, I cannot place you. I’m certain I’ll know your husband’s name, if we are competitors.”

  “I speak of my brother Northcotte’s horse.” She patted Patriot’s neck and tipped her head to one side, holding back a smile. He was the man who’d beguiled her in the stands. “This is Patriot, who, I believe, just ran down your horse, Lord Knightwick.”

  Recognition registered on his face before he schooled his expression into a mask of politeness. “Of course. But, I am not Knightwick. You find his brother, Lumley, in your debt. You are Lady Joanna?” He inclined his head, eyeing her with a cool gaze.

  She nodded, quelling a shiver, trying to determine what she’d said that made all the warmth flee from his manner. Surely, the man was not so competitive he couldn’t hold a casual conversation over horseflesh. Perhaps it was the thought of a woman rider overtaking his winning stallion. She was suddenly grateful to have met him in passing on the street and not in a ballroom where she might have considered him an eligible match. Their families were equal in status. His father’s stables bred some of the top runners until recently. Her own father had raced a few good runners before his death.

  Thank the heavens she saw the real man before she fell victim to that charming smile and rakishly wavy brown hair that made her fingers itch to touch.

  He bowed stiffly. “Please offer your mother my belated condolences. Your father was generous with his knowledge at the track. He is missed. I won’t keep you from your outing. Again, I thank you for catching my horse. Good day.”

  With that, he mounted up and rode off without looking back.

  Joanna watched him go. Such an odd exchange of words. She must remember to ask Robert what he knew of the man, to find some answers to this puzzlement.

  Chapter Four

  David willed his legs to relax, to keep from sending the wrong signal to Triton. His horse walked calmly back through Hyde Park, but David’s thoughts still raced. How had he not recognized that horse?

  He grunted.

  He knew damned well how. He had eyes for nothing more than Lady Joanna. He’d heard her name mentioned as one of the fairer of the second-Season hopefuls on the market, but she’d been just another pretty face when he saw her at the race meeting. Now that he’d seen her up close, the fact she’d not been called an Incomparable made him wonder what the other young ladies looked like.

  But her beauty was second in his thoughts, or should have been. Seeing her brought her brother to mind, and the dead groom at the Newmarket stables. David had heard there’d been no sign of injury on the body, so they were investigating the apparent illness he’d suffered that morning. The fact the groom worked for Northcotte didn’t ease the concern David and Knightwick had for the safety of their own horses.

  As he considered possible reasons someone would want to kill a groom, David paid little attention to where he guided Triton, and found himself in Shepherd’s Market
where his friend, Laurence Pierce, had rooms. Just the man he needed to see.

  The portly butler led David to the library to wait for Pierce, who stumbled in with his hair freshly combed and his face still puffy from sleep, fussing with the knot of his cravat. “Good God, Lumley. Why don’t you sleep half the day like normal men?”

  David chuckled. “Too much time in the country. I’m up with the cows most days. You would be too, if you stayed out of Lady Kemberton’s bed.”

  Pierce leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the hassock, throwing an arm over his eyes. “And why would I want to do that? Why would any man forego her warm, plump pillows for a cold, hard mattress?” He sighed, a sound more tired than wistful.

  “Far be it from me to suggest a man give up pleasure while he can take it.” David sharpened and aimed his barb. “All too soon one might find oneself too old for that type of entertainment.”

  Pierce peered out from beneath the brown sleeve of his coat. “There is only a year between us, old man, so any evil you wish upon me might soon fall upon yourself.”

  A footman entered laden with a coffee tray, which he set on the low table between the gentlemen. Pierce poured one black cup for David, then loaded another cup with as much milk as coffee.

  David took a sip of the hot brew. “What do you know of Northcotte?”

  “Skinny lad, a few years ahead of us at Oxford, was he not?”

  “I was hoping for more recent news, say the last four years?”

  “He came into his title in ’08, as I recall. But he’s been the main force behind his family’s stud for longer than that.” Pierce’s right eyebrow rose. “Is that why you’re here, now? You’ve always suspected him, or his father, in Zephyr’s death. What have you learned?”

  “I haven’t learned anything, but there were some odd goings on at Newmarket, and I saw his three-year-old in Town this morning.” David went on to explain his meeting with Lady Joanna.

  Pierce barked with laughter before David could finish. “You were rescued by the fair Lady Joanna on Rotten Row? Perhaps I should rise with the cows, if that’s when the best entertainment is to be found. This will be on all the wagging tongues at Lady Henderson’s ball this evening.”

  “I was not rescued. A cat darted out from beneath a parked cart and startled Triton, causing me to lose my seat. He got a head start whilst I was lying on my arse wondering why the stars were still out. It could have happened to anyone.”

  Pierce choked out his next words between guffaws. “And how lucky for you an expert horseman—er, horsewoman—was nearby. Triton might have run all the way to Newmarket without you.”

  “I am delighted to have provided you with this morning’s merriment. If you are quite through making sport, I’ve more news. The dead groom was supposed to ride the horse Lady Joanna was on in Hyde Park.”

  Pierce’s mustache twitched. “The lady rode a stallion and overtook Triton? Really, Lumley, it’s too early for these tales. Next you’ll tell me she rode astride for all the ton to see.”

  David searched his memory. “No, she sat aside. I realize how unbelievable that is, but it’s beside the point. Her horse is the point. Or the groom who was supposed to ride it.”

  “I’m not following. What does one have to do with the other? Lady, horse, groom? And why am I losing sleep over all of it?”

  “It’s too odd that it’s Northcotte’s groom who was killed, when he’s the man I suspect was behind the other poisonings.” David tapped his fingernail on his cup, then set it aside to keep his fidgeting from being obvious.

  “Are you certain this groom was poisoned?”

  “No, they haven’t reported anything beyond finding the body, and since I was at the race meeting, I knew about that.”

  Pierce stretched and yawned loudly. “Perhaps it’s my lack of sleep speaking, but I don’t understand why the man would kill his own groom. Surely not to throw suspicion from him.”

  “I doubt that would be the reason. But the boy might have known too much. Or he could have accidentally ingested the poison. The times before, the horses’ water buckets were tainted, so anyone drinking from them took ill to varying degrees.”

  “Do you intend to speak to the constable about your theories?”

  “Not until I have proof,” David said.

  “And how do you plan to find this proof? Last I’d heard, Northcotte was not overtly welcoming to the Lumley clan.”

  David smiled and sat back in his chair. “With a little help from a new acquaintance. My mother has been pleading for me to escort Lady Hannah to whatever events strike her fancy; that is the whole purpose of my being in London at this time of year. I shall endeavor to see that my dear sister and Lady Joanna become fast friends.”

  He didn’t care to know Northcotte’s sister any better, but she might know something that could solve the mysteries plaguing him.

  Joanna and Miss Amelia Clawson pranced down the front steps of the small town house belonging to Amelia’s parents, their maids following in a more subdued manner. Joanna laughed and circled in place when she reached the curb, her arms spread wide. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  Amelia shook her head, but laughed. “You act as though you’ve fallen in love, and we haven’t yet been to our first ball.”

  Joanna laughed once more, then the warmth of a blush traveled over her face. She was not in love. “I did meet someone. He’s too cold-natured for my liking, but he gives me hope for the other gentlemen in Town.”

  With a loud gasp, followed by a clap of her hand over her mouth, Amelia gaped at her with wide eyes. “Who is he? Does he have a handsome brother for me?”

  Tipping her head to one side, Joanna thought for a moment as they began strolling down the street to shop for ribbon. “Why yes, he does have a very handsome brother. Do you know Lord Knightwick?”

  Another gasp. “You met Knightwick?”

  “No, his brother, Mr. Lumley.”

  “How? Where? Why was I not there with you? You’ve just arrived in Town.”

  Joanna plucked at the button on her Spencer, straightening the front of the blue garment distractedly. Shrugging her shoulders and sighing dramatically, she spoke. “You won’t ride with me, so you won’t have the opportunity to meet gentlemen such as these. I was riding Patriot this morning when I had the opportunity to do a service for Mr. Lumley.”

  She detailed her chase, adding theatrical flourishes to her run while riding sidesaddle, and the reactions of the two stallions upon Triton being caught. In truth, she knew she could easily have been thrown if the two animals had been more upset, but she had been quite lucky.

  Amelia looked suitably impressed. “You didn’t! Isn’t his horse a runner?”

  “Just so, as is Patriot. My horse will prove himself on the courses this year, you’ll see.”

  Patting Joanna’s arm, Amelia apologized. “I didn’t mean his horse is better. Or faster. Or whatever. But should you not have let your groom catch him? What must people think? Surely you were seen.”

  “Oooh, you sound like my mother. You are exactly the daughter she wishes me to be. But I can’t undo chasing the stallion, and I don’t wish to undo meeting Mr. Lumley, which was my true point in mentioning the event to you.”

  “I forgot. If he resembles Knightwick, he is likely very handsome as you say. Was he grateful for your help, or embarrassed to be saved by a lady?”

  Joanna considered the way he had ridden off so abruptly. She would not share that part of their meeting. There was no fun in that. “He seemed suitably gracious. He was well aware he might never have caught Triton on his own.”

  “And did he ask to call on you? Perhaps thank you again?”

  “Well, no. He didn’t say anything suggesting he wished to see me again.” Not that she cared to speak to him after his rude departure. “It doesn’t matter. The promise of what lay ahead makes me happy this morning. He is handsome and he loves horses. Those two qualities are very high on my list for an ideal husband.
If there’s one like him in London, there must be more. Perhaps one of them will be able to look beyond my work with horses, and will think I make the perfect wife.”

  “It’s likely we’ll run into him at some assembly or other. And he now has reason to request an introduction.” Amelia always saw the brighter side of a situation. “Perhaps he’ll have his brother with him, and perhaps I’ll be with you.”

  “You never told me you have an interest in Knightwick, Amelia.”

  Her friend looked off at the row of houses across the street. “I’ve no aspirations to marry an earl’s heir. My grandfather was in trade, and my father is only a baron. My income isn’t enough to attract a titled gentleman.”

  “Well then, you may marry any man you choose. Many would want a wife like you. Your hair is such a rich shade of brown, and the shape of your eyes is so striking. You are enjoyable to talk to and you carry yourself well in company. You are the perfect bride for any gentleman.”

  Amelia laughed. “If only the right gentleman would come along. I’ve had two Seasons for some man to think I am perfect, and I stand before you an unmarried, unattached woman.”

  “I’m very grateful for that. Who would I talk to if you were an old, married woman already?”

  They reached their intended shop and walked inside. “I need just the right shade of lavender, not too wide, to match one of my dresses,” Joanna explained.

  Joanna examined the goods for sale, asking for cuts of laces and ribbons for various garments, and thread to match. Once they were back on the street, her thoughts returned to Knightwick. “You don’t really want a man like him, do you?”

  “Who, Knightwick? Why would I not? You aren’t referring to that Cambridge incident, are you?”

  “No, silly. I meant that he’s such a rake, of course,” Joanna said.