‘I apologise for my words last night. I was cursed rude to you, mostly because I was in a shocking rage at myself. Matthew dressed me down for jealousy of your circumstances, which I hope isn’t true, although even if it is the little whelp should still respect his elder. Notwithstanding, I took out my frustration on you and I beg your pardon.’
‘Oh, nonsense, Leo.’ The Duke put out his hand.
His cousin grasped it. ‘You’re too tolerant. And this doesn’t affect the bet. I still want your greys.’
‘Are you setting up as a whip? Because horses won’t do it alone: you’ll need to be a deal less cow-handed first.’
Leo grinned at that accurate hit. ‘I have no aspiration to drive your greys: I wouldn’t presume. But Vier covets them, so—’
‘Vier?’
‘Sir James Vier. You know the man.’
‘Yes, I do. And since I do, I have refused to sell him my greys several times. Why would you do such a thing?’
‘Because he’s the man I lost the money to,’ Leo said. ‘Did Father not mention that, or were you not listening? He’s the very devil at whist, him and that smooth swine he partners with, but I’m quite sure he’d take the greys in settlement, so—’
‘You are not giving Vier my horses,’ the Duke said, not mincing words. ‘The man is a brute. He thrashes his cattle like the worst sort of carter. For God’s sake, Leo, you cannot!’
‘I have limited options,’ Leo said, the humour dropping from his eyes. ‘I lost heavily. More than I can afford, in truth. Villainous, I know.’
‘We all make fools of ourselves now and then; look at my performance. But for heaven’s sake, let me give you the money. Or lend it, if you must be particular,’ the Duke added, seeing a familiar mulish expression on his cousin’s face.
Leo had always made a point of never taking so much as a shilling from his vastly wealthy cousin, supporting his father’s position of honest stewardship. As ways of handling the gulf between their positions, it was as good as any and better than many, and the Duke respected that Leo did not expect to be hauled out of the River Tick whenever he fell in. But what was the point of wealth if one could not spend it on people one loved? ‘I know you’d never ask or expect it, but just this once? Please? I’d far rather spend the money than see my greys in Vier’s hands.’
‘I’m not biting your shins. You know how my father feels.’
‘He has never treated my money as his to use, and nor have you. It is mine to spend as I choose. I choose to spend it on you.’
‘No. I can’t ask that, or take it either. Sev, it’s three thousand pounds.’
‘Good God. What were you thinking?’
‘I was drinking, not thinking.’ Leo waved an airy hand, which did not fool the Duke in the slightest. ‘It was my foolishness and I will bear the consequences.’
‘But what will you do? Other than give Vier my greys, which, I must tell you, you should not bank on.’
‘I dare say the old man will oblige when he calms down. Or I shall sell out of the Funds, if I need to. Your father was generous with his bequests.’
‘Leo, that’s your income! For goodness’ sake, don’t waste your capital on Vier. Let me loan you the money, and you may repay me at a sensible pace. I’ll charge you interest.’
‘I do not and will not depend on you to solve my troubles,’ Leo said. ‘Though I shall be delighted if you lose our wager. Otherwise, dear coz, I wish you well on your adventure.’ His tone made it clear the subject was closed.
The Duke negotiated starting his travels in Gloucester. The Bird in Hand inn where he’d been robbed was on the outskirts of the town, and he’d ascertained from the landlord that John Martin had departed in a northerly direction. He’d hoped to pick up the fellow’s tracks without too much difficulty.
He’d been optimistic. It turned out that ostlers were very busy men who didn’t have time to answer the questions of undistinguished greenhorns, whether about who they’d seen or where the coaches were going. In fact, most people were completely uninterested in helping him. One pleasant individual did come up to engage him in conversation; the Duke, having completed a tour on the Continent and not being quite such a Johnny Raw as all that, had declined the invitation to take a drink or pass the time with a game of chance. He congratulated himself on that much, and was feeling quite satisfied by his performance once he managed to take a place on the stage to Cheltenham.
That was a guess, but it was a spa town where one might find idling gentlemen: it seemed plausible John Martin might attempt to repeat his performance there. The Duke therefore boarded the stagecoach in a spirit of hopefulness that was rapidly knocked out of him.
The interior of the coach reeked, of the potations of atleast two of his fellow passengers, a small boy who’d recently been sick, and another passenger’s hot meat pie, which somehow left a film of grease on the Duke’s lips from two feet away. He was squashed between a rubicund farmer and a buxom lady, both of whom expressed their pleasure that he was such a small man. The coach was unsprung, the seats unpadded, the roads of a vileness, the journey longer than he could have imagined. He staggered out at the other end, cursing John Martin and Leo and himself, and discovered that at some point someone had picked his pocket and stolen twenty pounds.
At least it wasn’t more. He’d split his money up and secreted it about his person and in his luggage. But it had gone from an inner pocket, which was rather frightening, and he had no idea when, which was worse, and it was a sizeable part of his entire worldly wealth for the duration of a month. It was a bad blow on his first day.
He’d decided to retire early and ask questions tomorrow, thinking to ensure a good night’s rest. That also was denied him, since his person did not command instant obsequious attention, or comfortable rooms, or the choicest viands. He dined on the ordinary, which was extremely ordinary – a slurry of oversalted, overcooked vegetables and a few pieces of gristly meat – and found himself allocated a dismally dark, smoky space under the eaves with decidedly damp sheets and rough blankets. Worst of all, the noise from outside was unceasing: rattling wheels, shouting, an endless hubbub that made him pull the miserable covers over his head and wish himself back in the luxurious quiet of Staplow.
Burned coffee and an inadequate breakfast for a sum he suspected was extortionate did not help his mood in the morning. He was unwashed and had made a poor fist ofdressing, and it took a strong effort to command his feelings. If he was uncomfortable, he reminded himself, it was because of John Martin, and he would use his irritation to fuel his enthusiasm for the pursuit.
He set himself doggedly to the task. He asked ostler after ostler if they had seen one not-particularly-notable man out of hundreds, discovering that a shilling was the best coin to win attention but not too much attention. He made his wearisome way around the edges of Cheltenham, and then ventured into the centre with his senses on alert for acquaintances. It would not be in breach of terms for him to be recognised, but he’d have to refuse any invitations, and explain what he was doing in an ill-fitting coat, and word would doubtless get about, and the whole thing would be cursed awkward.
