“I figured as much, my lord,” Dawes said, nodding his head dolefully.
“The only thing for it is for me to go to Nottingham to head him off. I’ll explain the situation to him and urge him to return home. Failing that, at least he’ll not bellow and call undue attention to his niece.”
He rose from the chair and grabbed his hat from the table. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Miss Shreveton who purchased the bay, not even if she asks directly. Lie,” he said bluntly. He fixed his hat on his head at a rakish angle, then swung wide the officedoor, taking the steps down at a near run and burst forth into the narrow lane below in a highly uncharacteristic rapid gait.
“Stefton! Ho, there, man!”
The Marquis stopped in midstride, turning to see the Earl of Soothcoor hailing him. The grim expression on his face relaxed a bit as he waited for the man to catch up with him. “What brings you to this part of town?” The two men continued walking towards Pall Mall.
“Been to Tatt’s to see Berner’s breakdowns.” The Earl made a face. “Faugh! Can’t see how he came to buy the team in the first place. I’ve never seen a more awkward-gaited, ill-matched pair.”
The Marquis laughed thinly. “He didn’t. He won them at cards off Thackery. He certainly won’t get for them what the bet was worth.”
The Earl sneered. “I’ve always thought Thackery doesn’t know what honor means.”
“Berner was a fool, and I’ve no sympathy for fools. He should never have accepted the bet without knowing the pair.”
Soothcoor nodded agreement, then changed the subject. “And what were you doing at Burke’s? Trying to buy horses or employees?”
Stefton laughed shortly, remembering his conversation with Catherine on trying to hire employees away from Sir Eugene. “Neither. I was learning,” he said, a crooked smile twisting his lips. He was contemplative for a moment, then he halted and looked at Soothcoor. “I have to go out of town for a few days.”
“And?”
A brief frown pulled at Stefton’s lips. “Keep an eye on Miss Shreveton for me,” he said.
The Earl whistled softly. “So that’s the way the wind blows.”
“Spare me your suppositions,” Stefton said with a touch of asperity. “You know nothing of the kind.”
Soothcoor’s eyebrows rose, his dark eyes protruding slightly. “As bad as that, is it?” He shook his head dolefully.
Stefton ground his teeth at Soothcoor’s humor. “No, it is not,” he said, wondering why he felt a sudden pain in his head. “Just do as I ask. There is more to Miss Shreveton than any in London know,” he said cryptically.
Soothcoor looked speculatively at the Marquis. Stefton had a faraway contemplative look in his silvered eyes that caused them to glitter more than was their wont. He shook his head at Stefton’s strange behavior but promised he’d do as the Marquis asked.
“Catherine!”Lady Harth called, opening the door to her niece’s room without knocking. “A note has just been delivered for you,” she said severely as if chastising Catherine for the occurrence. She held out the missive written on ivory-colored paper and addressed with a bold hand.
“Thank you, Aunt Alicia.” Catherine took the note and turned back toward her dressing table.
“Well? Who is it from?”
“Aunt Alicia!” Catherine exclaimed, effrontery warring with amusement at her aunt’s inordinate curiosity.
“I will not have any of you girls receiving strange notes from unknown persons. It’s unseemly,” her aunt retorted self-righteously, though Catherine thought she detected two bright spots of color high on her cheekbones proclaiming a twinge of embarrassment.
“I see,” Catherine responded slowly, her lips pursing to refrain from smiling. She broke open the wax seal and spread open the note.
Miss Shreveton,
I regret to inform you I shall be unable to join you for our daily ride. I have discovered urgent business out of town that necessitates my immediate departure from the metropolis. I do not know when I shall return, but I trust Captain Chilberlain will be delighted to carry on in my absence.
Your obedient servant,
Stefton
A cold lump settled in the pit of Catherine’s stomach. “It’s from the Marquis of Stefton!” she said with brittle brightness. “He merely writes to inform me he has been called out of the city and will not be able to ride until his return.”
Lady Harth sniffed. “You do not seem unduly disappointed by the news,” she said waspishly, dissatisfied with the note’s prosaic contents.
