Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

“Curse it, yes,” said Hawk, dipping the quill into the ink pot. “I shall be dining this evening with my sister and Lord Chalmers. See to my togs, will you. Grunyon?”

“Yes, my lord. Ah, do give Lady Frances my, er, best wishes.”

“Impertinent fool,” Hawk said.

“Sartorial splendor,” Grunyon said that evening, regarding his lordship with approval.

“What?”

“I heard that said of you, my lord.”

“What utter nonsense. Damnation, I don’t even know the meaning of that word.”

“It refers, my lord, to the elegant appearance you present in your evening clothing.”

Hawk snorted, accepted his cape, gloves, and cane, and took his leave.

He took a hackney coach the short distance to Grosvenor Square. He was met by a charming, gay sister at Dunsmore House, a sister filled with enthusiasm for his presence, and suffered her kiss on his cheek. Edmund shook his head at her display, and retreated, allowing Beatrice full rein.

Dinner concerned itself with exquisitely prepared French dishes—veal in a delicate wine sauce, partridge stuffed with raisins, chestnuts, and rice, lamb so tender that it melted when touched by teeth.

“I think we should both visit Gentleman Jackson tomorrow, Edmund,” Hawk said, sitting back in his chair, sated.

“I agree,” said Edmund. He gave Beatrice a nod, and she dutifully rose from her chair.

“I shall see you gentlemen after you’ve imbibed your port,” she said, and left them to themselves.

“Congratulations again,” Hawk said, and toasted Edmund.

“Thank you. We will deal well together, you know. It is my feeling that your father is ... relieved.”

The marquess rarely spoke of his daughter, and upon hearing of the engagement, had merely snorted and muttered under his breath, “Maybe the chit will have the good sense to have some children now.” And then he’d said something that had made Hawk frown. “The only thing that concerns me about Lord Chalmers is that he was one of Nevil’s closest friends.” Odd, that. Not what one would expect from a father.

“Perhaps,” Hawk said. He suddenly grinned at Edmund. “I also congratulate you on your strength of character. Beatrice has said not a word about my unfortunate alliance.”

Unfortunate? Edmund let it pass. He poured Hawk another glass of the excellent port, leaned back in his chair, and said in a meditative voice, “Did you hear what happened to one of the Earl of Egremont’s prize racers?”

Hawk wasn’t particularly interested, but he shook his head and leaned forward a bit.

“The horse’s name was Falcon and he was lamed by his trainer before a quite important race at Newmarket. The trainer has taken to his heel, to the Continent, one supposes.”

“Unfortunate,” Hawk said.

“I mention it just to remind you that the racing world isn’t one of unblemished character. One must really be utterly committed to succeed, like the Duke of Portland and the Duke of Richmond, for example. The men live their lives for their horses and their races. It is the only way.” He paused a moment, then added, “Nevil was the same way. He lived and breathed his horses. There was nothing else that gained his attention.”

Hawk, to Edmund’s brief chagrin, responded, but not as he had hoped. “It is odd, but you knew my brother much better than did I. I scarce ever saw him for the last six or seven years of his life. Was he successful at Newmarket and Ascot?”

It was on the tip of Edmund’s tongue to say that his racing stock wasn’t of the best, but then, that wouldn’t make logical sense. For if that were the case, then why would he, Edmund, wish to buy all the stock? “Yes,” Edmund said, “he was.”

“And you, I take it, are an avid racer?”

Edmund nodded, searching frantically for the right opening, the right thing to say. “That is why I would like to breed your stock with mine. It is my fondest ambition, I suppose you would say. Incidentally, your sister is also absorbed with racing. She also shares my ambition.”

“Ah.” Hawk realized that he wasn’t as eager about selling off Desborough stock as he had been but two months before. He was now a married man, and a married man normally, in the course of events, was blessed with children. What would his son think if he were to be informed that his father had sold his legacy? It was a startling, rather unwelcome thought, at least at the moment. He liked Edmund and he didn’t wish to deal him such a disappointment. He chose, instead, to perseverate. “I am still considering it. As you know, old man, my life has undergone severe buffeting during the past month. I am still not certain.” He shrugged. “But of course you aren’t interested in my mental machinations. Shall we see if Bea will play for us?”

Hawk saw the brief questioning look that passed from his sister to her betrothed. What to do? he wondered.

He listened with half an ear while Beatrice regaled them with her talented fingers at the pianoforte. He winced, thinking of Frances’ playing and singing.