An Unexpected Countess. Laurie Benson
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she replied with a grin.
‘Then you understand patriotism is strong in our family. My father was a patriot, I am and your brother proved to be more of a patriot than either of us.’ Talking about his love for his country brought life to her father like nothing else since her brother’s death.
Four days ago she had inadvertently opened a letter addressed to her father that was mistakenly placed with her mail. She read about how this person was in possession of a letter her brother had written to an English general revealing details about Fort McHenry. This person wanted to exchange that treasonous letter for a large yellow diamond that could be located using Lady Everill’s bracelet.
If her father had opened that letter, there was no telling if his heart would have survived the news. They had almost lost him from the grief he suffered over Alexander’s death. The only thing she found that helped him accept her brother’s death was that Alexander had supposedly died a hero protecting the people of Baltimore that night five years ago. What would happen to her parents if they found out he died a traitor?
She needed that bracelet and that diamond to spare her parents further pain. It sounded easy. But it wasn’t. However, nothing was going to stop her from finding that bracelet and the diamond and protecting her beloved parents.
* * *
Gravel crunched under his boots as Hart walked towards the viewing stand at Tattersall’s with Julian Carlisle, the Duke of Lyonsdale, by his side. The familiar smell of hay mixed with a tinge of manure carried in the breeze as they passed crowds of gentlemen who were there to view the fine stock of horses up for auction. Approaching a spot near the auction block, Hart gave a friendly nod to Mr Tattersall and scanned the area in anticipation of seeing the beautiful thoroughbred that would make a fine addition to his stable of racehorses.
Julian peered past his shoulder. ‘Do you see it?’
Hart shook his head, still looking for the shiny black coat of the four-year-old colt.
‘Are you planning on breaking your bank for this one?’
‘I will not be on your doorstep any time soon because I cannot afford to keep my set at Albany if that’s what you fear.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Julian said with a smirk. ‘As it is, you’re beginning to consume more than your body weight in food at my home.’
‘Can I help it if Katrina is gracious enough to invite me to dine with you as frequently as she does?’
‘It might have something to do with the matter of you arriving close to dinnertime most nights.’
They had dined together at White’s most nights before his friend got married. It was what they did. They had taken most of their evening meals together since they were at Cambridge. Now Julian wanted to stay home for dinner. Hart had given the newlyweds a month to themselves before he assumed they would grow bored of each other. He never felt as if he was imposing. Was he wrong? ‘Are you saying I am not welcome in your home?’ His tone was teasing, but he discovered waiting for the answer was making him uncomfortable.
‘You are always welcome, as you are quite aware. I’m simply remarking that should you bid more than a reasonable amount today, I might be forced to adopt you as my son.’
‘You could have said as a brother. We are both lacking those.’ The moment the words left his lips he regretted saying them, knowing Julian still felt the loss of his brother who had died years before. ‘Forgive me.’
Julian dug his hands into the pockets of his navy blue coat and shook his head. ‘No need to apologise. I’m finally at peace with Edward’s loss.’
‘I’m glad, but what has changed?’
‘Katrina once told me everyone has a purpose in life. When that purpose is achieved, they move on. I suppose Edward fulfilled his purpose. The notion has helped me accept his loss.’
Hart didn’t believe that. People died and the people they left behind were never the same. How did that fulfil a purpose? He knew of this first-hand. Everyone who had ever meant anything to him, save Julian, was dead. ‘I’m glad you have made peace with his passing.’ Not certain what else to say, he relied on his diversionary tactics. ‘So, I suppose if I remain at your house long enough this evening, I’ll be invited to dine.’ He offered up his friend a teasing grin and raised his brows, expectantly.
Julian let out a low laugh. ‘You are always welcome. Just be prudent with your money. Do you need another racehorse?’
What an absurd question. ‘No, I don’t need another racehorse, but I want this one. He has Derby potential.’
‘Do you have a number in mind?’
‘I think eight hundred guineas is fair.’
Julian shook his head.
‘I do not have a wife to support,’ Hart continued. ‘I do not have as many servants as you. If he meets his potential, this horse will bring me much more than that in winnings and I can make even more money when I put him out to stud.’
As he turned his head away from Julian’s chastising glare, he finally spotted the colt being led down the sawdust path. His black coat, shiny in the afternoon light, was a sharp contrast to the pale stone walls of Tattersall’s. His handler paused with him at the auction block before he was paraded past the attendees. This beast was exceptional. Hart had to have him.
Mr Tattersall gave Hart a slight nod of his head, acknowledging that this was indeed the horse Hart had inspected the day before.
‘Gentlemen, here I present to you a fine, well-bred, four-year-old colt by the name of Corinthian.’
‘You are going to bid on a horse named Corinthian?’ Julian said through a low laugh.
‘That has nothing to do with why I want him.’
‘Well, whatever you do, do not change his name. It’s much too appropriate.’
As Mr Tattersall ran through the horse’s pedigree, the animal stood perfectly still, its muscles outlined in its smooth coat, as if waiting for the men to acknowledge how magnificent he was.
Finally, Mr Tattersall rapped his gavel. ‘What shall I say for this horse? Five hundred?’
Hart nodded slightly and Mr Tattersall acknowledged him. ‘Thank you, my lord. Five hundred guineas are offered for this splendid animal.’
‘Ten,’ came a voice from Hart’s left.
‘Thank you, sir. Five hundred and ten guineas.’
‘Ten,’ Hart said loud enough to reach the auctioneer.
‘Very good. Thank you, my lord. Five hundred and twenty guineas are bid.’
‘Ten,’ said the man again to Hart’s left.
This could take some time. Hart was about to raise the bidding by fifty guineas when a familiar strong voice from over to his right called out, ‘One hundred.’
Mr Tattersall nodded his acceptance before quickly glancing at Hart. ‘Thank you, my lord. Six hundred and twenty guineas are bid. Will any gentleman advance that sum?’
Julian leaned closer to him. ‘Were you aware your father would be here?’
‘Eighty,’ Hart shouted out before he could control the volume of his voice.
‘Thank you, my lord. We have seven hundred guineas bid on this horse.’
Hart turned his attention momentarily to Julian. ‘Of course I wasn’t aware he would be here. It’s not as if I’ve suddenly decided to speak with him,’ he bit out, unable to remain calm and rational where his father was concerned.
‘One hundred,’ that familiar voice called out. This time the bid was met with murmurs in the crowd. His father was never subtle.
‘Thank you, my lord. We have eight hundred