“Mr Bramley cares only for things that can benefit himself,” Lady Fenton declared.
“Surely, Mr Patmore, you are not rushing off to petition Miss Montrose to give up her beloved horse only to satisfy Mr Bramley?” Lady Quamby asked. “Not after our recent discussion!”
“We have a shared interest in horses, and I shall enjoy the diversion.” He had to quash their hopes. “That is all, Lady Fenton.”
“When shall you leave?” she asked.
“Tomorrow. I think my ankle is merely bruised, so although it’s still tender, I shall soon be walking on it.”
“I realize you are charged with encouraging her to return Devil’s Run but would you be so good as to discharge our request, Mr Patmore? Would you at least try to persuade Miss Montrose against going ahead with this ridiculous marriage, even if you have no vested interest?”
“I don’t know why you think I might be any more successful than either of you ladies who, I believe, have both tried to dissuade her.”
“That is true, but she may believe we simply dislike Cousin George, so will question our motivations. You, on the other hand, are a very attractive man and it’s quite clear she is not averse to you.”
Rufus blinked at Lady Quamby and decided he liked the bewitching wench even more. “You flatter me, but as I said, I can’t promise I’ll have any more success than either of you.”
Lady Quamby put her beautiful, blonde head closer to his, mesmerizing him with the exotic scent of lily of the valley. “Maybe you could discover if there’s some deep, dark secret at the bottom of all this. Maybe Cousin George is holding her to a promise.Maybe she’ll confess to you the real reason she insists on going ahead with this marriage. For it certainly isn’t because she wants to.”
Chapter 6
At midday the following day, after a three-hour ride, Rufus was shown into the drawing room of the surprisingly humble cottage occupied by Miss Montrose and her aunt. To his surprise, there was no enquiry by Miss Montrose regarding the health of her intended, only a thoughtful, “So, Mr Bramley considers Devil’s Run a sure bet for the East Anglia Cup? He never mentioned it to me; otherwise I’m sure I’d not have accepted the unexpected and greatly appreciated gift from Lord Quamby.”
Rufus had been waved to a dangerously spindly chair near the window opposite Miss Montrose, while the onyx-eyed aunt regarded him from the corner. After she’d fired a few sharp-edged questions at him regarding his mission, she picked up her knitting so that the resulting quiet was punctuated by the rhythmic click of the needles.
Suddenly, Miss Montrose gave a short laugh. It was completely unexpected, but what Rufus found most surprising was the transformation of her features. He hadn’t realised quite what a beauty she was.
“So, Mr Bramley really thinks Devil can win the Cup?” She lowered her voice, though it appeared the old lady was now sleeping, her knitting balanced precariously on her lap. “I must tell you that my aunt was horrified that I’d returned with a horse. Unfortunately, she disapproves of most things, and as she’s saddled with a dependant as unsatisfactory as I am, she’d no doubt regale you with a litany of complaints if she got the chance.” Miss Montrose’s concern over her aunt’s attitude was suddenly swept away as she said, brightly, “However, I’ve found stabling for Devil, and I’ve done what I have to in order to pay for his keep during the next two weeks. While it would spare me some expense to release the darling horse back into Mr Bramley’s tender loving care, I’m not convinced I wish to do that.” She put her head on one side and regarded him with an impish smile. “Devil’s Run is not a horse I would imagine Mr Bramley would pin his hopes on. It’s not that his racing days are behind him, but I just don’t think he’s particularly fast or exceptional in any way. I wonder if you have any thoughts on why Mr Bramley considers Devil ripe for contention.”
“I have never ridden the animal, Miss Montrose.”
“So you knew nothing before about Mr Bramley’s desire to race Devil’s Run in the Cup? Do you not think it curious?”
“Curious, Miss Montrose?”
“That Mr Bramley is so desirous to get the horse back when he’s most unlikely to win the Cup.”
Rufus tried to laugh. He didn’t want his suspicions that Bramley was up to no good to be true and he didn’t want to be compromised, either. In fact, he was about to do a volte face and advise Miss Montrose to stand to her guns and refuse to return her horse when a derisive snort from the corner made them turn. The old aunt had woken, hitched herself up in her chair and was glaring at her niece. “For Lord’s sake, Eliza, just give Mr Bramley back his horse. There’s always some objection from you, isn’t there?”
Rufus wasn’t sure who was more surprised or indignant. Miss Montrose’s mouth dropped open, and he was surprised to see real hurt in her eyes before she managed, with a pointed lack of emotion, “But I always do my duty in the end, don’t I, Aunt? And so, Mr Patmore can take Devil back with him this afternoon, if he chooses.”
“Tsk, tsk, a girl who does her duty should not spend the next seven years reminding all and sundry how reluctant she is to discharge that duty. The only reason you stay to tend an old woman is because you hope I’ll leave my fortune to you.” The elder Miss Montrose focused her beady eyes on her niece. “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. That Susanna only ever visits when she thinks there might be something in it for her. I don’t care for her, but while she might be a vain, flighty gold-grubbing piece, she’s as much my niece as you, and she isn’t a sinner.”
“Well, if that’s what you want to do, Aunt, then why not call the solicitor now and ensure that all your wishes are put in writing.”
“Ha! And have you leave this house before the ink is dry? What kind of addlepate do you take me for?”
Rufus was surprised at the malevolence in the old woman’s tone. So here was the reason Miss Montrose was taking a chance on Mr Bramley. It was uncomfortable enough being a visitor in the home of old Miss Montrose, but he imagined that living with such daily taunts must be exhausting.
Apparently tiring of the conversa
tion, Miss Eliza Montrose rose suddenly with a cursory nod at her aunt. “Devil is in the top paddock without a blanket, and the sun is going down. I really think I should excuse myself and take him to the stable if I’m to be back in time to get your dinner, Aunt. Mr Patmore can take him in the morning.”
She hadn’t invited him to accompany her, but Rufus neither intended prolonging his visit if the old termagant in the corner happened to suggest it, or to return to his lodgings. “I’ll assist you.”
She shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you, Mr Patmore. You go back to the inn, and I’ll bring Devil to you in the morning.”
Her short, clipped sentences made clear her aversion to his company. Rufus shrugged. “There’s still plenty of daylight, and it’s less than two hours’ ride to Quamby House so, if you’re agreeable to relinquishing him, I’ll take him back now. It’ll save you the trouble of tending to him.”