Читать книгу Playing To Win - Laurel Ames - Страница 7

The Cairnbrooke town house stood at stiff attention, one in the seemingly endless rows of fashionable houses around Portman Place. It did have a certain stately reserve, like a retired army officer, and side walls of its own, though only the front and back rooms got much light. Most important, it had its own stable in back, so Sera could be reunited with her horses, Casius and Ivy, and her groom, Chadwick.

Tony had just come from an extremely disquieting meeting with his man of business when he drove into the stableyard to discover two strange horses being cosseted by his wife.

“Are these your horses?” he demanded, with more than ordinary force.

“Yes, they have kept well over the winter, don’t you think?”

“You are not keeping those two old screws here.”

Sera looked at him in disbelief, but Tony was not joking.

“But I have had Ivy and Casius since they were young. I can’t sell them.”

“Well, they are not taking up space in my stables.” With that, Tony stormed into the house, leaving her in the company of the grooms, and feeling for the first time in her life as though she would like to burst into tears. Instead, she took a deep breath, raised her chin and requested the undergroom to saddle Casius and put a lead on Ivy. “Chadwick, come with me.”

She led her groom into the breakfast parlor, where there was a small desk Lady Amanda had given her to use. “I want you to take Ivy and Casius to Gott Farm. Father isn’t there right now, but you know everyone. I’m sure they will be willing to take care of my horses. Here is money for the journey, and the trip back by stage.”

“Yes, miss. If His Lordship asks what I’ve done with them...”

“Tell him the truth. If he should get angry enough to dismiss you, I will employ you myself at the farm.”

“I’m not worried about that. I shall be back late tomorrow.”

Sera said nothing to Tony of all this. She pretended, in fact, that nothing had happened. She supposed she could mope about and be tearful, but she strongly suspected that would only make Tony angrier.

Tony, of course, regretted his flash of temper, but he could not have his wife mounted on such old horses. She would like a younger one better once she accustomed herself to it. Since she did not seem upset, he thought no more about it until the next morning. Sera was writing some letters in the breakfast parlor when he came in wearing boots and carrying a riding crop. “I’m sending two horses to Tattersall’s today. Where is Chadwick? I want him to ride one.”

“I sent him on an errand. He won’t be back until late today.”

“I know he is your groom, but you might have consulted with me first. Does he go to sell your horses?”

Sera was astounded that Tony could know so little about her. “Of course not,” she said, rising. “He is taking them someplace safe. I would never sell or otherwise dispose of old friends, just because they are old.”

“Someplace safe? Are you afraid to tell me where?” Tony asked, in rising anger. “What do you imagine I would do? Butcher them?”

“I don’t know anymore what you might do,” Sera said, clasping the back of the chair.

Tony was shocked to realize that she was afraid of him, and yet she faced him down. He sat down, somewhat shaken by his own display of anger. He must not lose control again. He owed her that much.

“If you must know, I sent them to my father’s farm. It’s where we all grew up. I’ll get to see them when—if—I go there for a visit.”

“You—you make them sound like people. Had you no friends when you were little?”

“No,” she said in amazement, as though the lack of them had only just occurred to her. “No one I was allowed to play with. I have a very bad habit of talking to horses as though they can understand me. I have tried not to, but it’s no use.”

Tony stared at her a moment longer, then shook his head. “I had no idea they meant so much to you. But they are only horses.”

“Once something belongs to me, I can never let go of it. I can’t bear not knowing what will happen to it.”

“Fortunate that I do not have your sensitive nature. I shall have to let go of a good few things, if we are to keep this house,” he said, rising and looking around him.

“Tony, why didn’t you tell me?” She walked toward him, wondering if she should offer to help with money. She had plenty of her own that he apparently did not even know about. But she did not want to make him angry again.

“It’s not your worry.”

This upset Sera even more, for if he really regarded her as his wife he might share his troubles with her.

“Some of the servants will have to go, too—at least one groom.”

Her eyes flew to his face.

“No, not your precious Chadwick. The man’s too competent.”

“Is there no other way?”

“We could sell the house, but then we wouldn’t need two upstairs maids.”

“This would be a very bad time for your mother to give this place up.”

“We still have Oak Park. I can’t sell it, anyway.”

“Couldn’t you just lease this house? We could live somewhere else for a few years.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I have got a smaller house, south of Saint James’s. It never brought much rent, it’s in such an unfashionable neighborhood—near Tothill Fields.”

“Has it got a stable?”

“Actually, it does. It’s on Marsham Street, just off Horseferry Road.”

“I like it better and better,” Sera said with a smile.

“There would be no grand parties. There’s no ballroom.”

“We should not be entertaining much during the mourning period, anyway. Has it got space for my books?”

“I imagine,” Tony replied in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a collector. I didn’t like to say anything about it, since the library at Oak Park is full and there is no room for a library here.”

“Just how many books have you got?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I should say there could not be more than seven or eight...hundred.” Sera peeked at him to see what effect this news would have on Tony.

He stood openmouthed for a moment.

“I did warn you I am bookish.”

“I know, but really! I thought that was just an expression.” Suddenly he smiled, and he had to bite his lip not to laugh at Sera’s hopeful look. “I don’t suppose there is anything else I should know about you. You haven’t got an art collection for me to house, or some more livestock?”

“No, I think— Well, there is McDuff.”

“Don’t tell me—an aged family retainer.”

“Some such thing. You may not like him, but Lady Jane and he do not get along, so I thought perhaps...”

“When is he coming?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. He can help us pack.”

“I don’t think he will be much use at that, but I shall contrive to keep him out of the way.”

“No doubt.”

* * *

Sera and Marie were in her dressing room, repacking her gayer clothes. It was tiring, having just packed and unpacked, to be going through it again. “I should have told you not to bother unpacking these. I can only wear grays and mauves for a time, anyway,” Sera said, letting her frayed temper show.

“They get too crushed if they are not hung,” said Marie as she carefully laid a pink silk between layers of silver paper.

“Nevertheless, these two trunks will go directly to the attic in Marsham Street. I don’t need them.”

Marie was protesting this decision in excited French when there was a growl, a muffled oath and angry yapping from the bedroom. Sera stepped back in to see Tony brush McDuff off the settee with enough force to make the little dog yelp when he landed.

“McDuff!” The animal limped to her, pathetically holding up an injured paw.

“Why didn’t you tell me McDuff is a lapdog?” Tony was red in the face and wrapping his handkerchief around his hand.

“I didn’t really know how you would take it,” Sera said, picking up her old pet.

“Your bedroom is no place for him. If you want to keep him, send him to the kitchen.”

A flush rose to Sera’s cheeks. “I don’t see what difference it makes. You never come in here anyway!”

Marie went back into the dressing room, and Sera cursed herself for saying something so stupid.

Tony grew quite white in the face, and she really did fear him for a moment, but he only slammed the door on his way out.

It was the worst thing she could possibly have said, and she regretted it as soon as her temper cooled. She should have known McDuff well enough to know he was only faking an injury. Like Armand, who had given her the dog, McDuff was a consummate actor.

Sera had never previously been aware of having a temper, but then, no one had ever provoked her into losing it before. At moments like this, she regretted ever marrying Tony, but then he did something unexpectedly nice for her. It was never a verbal apology, but she could not resist his efforts at peacemaking. When he wasn’t angry, he looked so much like he expected her to be still shrewish, it was laughable. She wondered where they were drifting—possibly into one of those cool and polite relationships that were more like business deals than marriages. Perhaps that was all Tony had ever wanted.

* * *

As a way of making peace, Tony offered to take Sera for a ride once they were settled in Marsham Street. The house seemed larger to Sera than the town house, but that was because it could get air and light from all four sides. Even better, it was on a corner, so they had easy access to the stables. There was even a small garden. Sera and Lady Amanda talked excitedly about how to refurbish the worn furniture as they selected their rooms. Tony interrupted them ruthlessly, commanding Sera to put on her riding habit even before the garment was unpacked. She could only look wistfully at her crates of books in the empty downstairs room as she was whisked down the hall to the back door.

“What have we for a lady, Chadwick?”

“I fancy this bay mare, myself. She’s very lively, and Jeffers says she can jump.”

“Saddle her up,” Tony commanded.

“What’s her name?” Sera asked, taking off her gloves to stroke the velvety muzzle.

“Tansy,” Jeffers supplied, after he directed the stable boy to fetch Sera’s sidesaddle. The mare gave a playful buck and seemed a little uncertain of her direction, but Sera pulled her in behind Tony’s gray, and she soon quieted.

“That horse is supposed to be broken.”

“Probably not used to being ridden sidesaddle,” Sera commented. “She’s settling down to it already.”

Tony watched Sera jealously through Saint James’s Park, not knowing how well she might ride, considering the slugs she had owned. Sera did not make any grievous errors, except for talking to the mare the entire way, rather than to him. But he recalled she had said she did this and, however annoying it might be, it did seem to keep the young horse distracted enough not to try any dangerous tricks. Even a loose dog did not make her rear, since Sera saw it and calmed Tansy immediately.

It was a wearing ride for Tony, wondering when his wife would be dumped. He had never had charge of a lady on horseback before, and it made him nervous.

Sera, on the other hand, was having a marvelous time, outguessing her new friend, saving the young horse from any serious blunders by anticipating what she would try next. She had not enjoyed herself so much since she had helped Chadwick train Ivy’s colt.

“Tired?” Tony asked as he helped her down at home.

“Not at all. Can we ride every day?”

“If you like, and you can go with Chadwick or Jeffers when I am not about. I don’t know about that mare, though.”

“She is sweet. A little playful, perhaps, but so eager to please, if only she can figure out what I want from her.”

It struck Tony that Sera might be describing herself. He realized that she did everything she could think of to please him. She put up with his surly silences, and sometimes even managed to tease him out of them. He should never have married her. He could not be a real husband to her so long as her money kept them apart.

* * *

It rained for most of a week, which gave them time to settle in to the house off Horseferry Road. The next time Tony and Sera had a chance to ride together, Tony had a gelding brought out for Sera to mount. She supposed the horse was all right, but he did not look as well boned as old Casius, in her estimation.

“Can’t I ride Tansy, instead?”

“What?”

“Your little bay mare.”

“I sold that one, with some of my other stock.”

“Sold her? But why? I liked her so much.”

“She was not well trained, and sooner or later would have given you a crashing fall.”

“Your selling her—it wasn’t an accident,” Sera said accusingly. “You sold her on purpose. Why?”

Tony had already told her why. He did not want to tell Sera to her face that he did not trust her horsemanship.

“You don’t have to answer me,” Sera said bitterly, turning away. “You sold her because I liked her.”

“Don’t be stupid. Just get on the horse.”

“I don’t care to ride today—or ever—with you.” Sera walked deliberately back to the house, wondering if she had said too much. She did want to ride with Tony, very much, but he made it so plain this bored him, it was probably best she put a stop to it now. Everything she tried to do to get close to him seemed to put more barriers between them. She was so angry with him at that moment that if there had been an easy way to divorce him, she would have done it. Whether she still loved him or not was dangerous to think about.

He knew how she felt about horses, how she became attached to them, yet he sold the very one she liked the most. Did he do it on purpose, to put her in her place, or did he not even think about her wishes? This was a much more depressing thought than believing he had done it to spite her.

She did not have the heart to face Marie. If she had to tell her why she was not riding, she might very well cry, and she had too much pride for that. She went to the downstairs room she had chosen as her library, where by now some of her books had been unpacked and ranged along the available shelves like old friends. She leaned against them, and had a sudden black vision of Tony pulling them down and tearing their pages. She really was being silly. He never did anything violent. She almost thought it would be better if he did break something. Always he pushed down his anger, as though there were something keeping him from saying what he really thought.

She heard Tony running up the stairs, three at a time. It had to be him. She knew a cowardly impulse to lock the door. Instead, she took down a volume she knew by heart, carried it to the desk and sat down to read. It was ten minutes before he ran her to ground, and she had regained much of her composure by then. When he threw open the door, he was seething.

“I should drag you out there and make you ride that horse.”

“I suppose you could. But you don’t like to ride with me, anyway. It was a stupid idea to try at all. You don’t like to do anything with me. Why would you like to ride with me?”

“You are still my wife. I won’t have you throwing a fit over something as stupid as a horse.”

“If anyone made a scene, it was you. And horses are not stupid. At least Tansy was not. Now I shall never know what has become of her. She might be beaten or misused. You really don’t care.” Sera was very nearly in tears, in spite of her viselike grip on the old book.

“If you cared about her, you should have said something.”

“So it’s my fault she was sold, then?” Sera asked, in shock.

“I’m only saying it wouldn’t have happened—”

“I’m not a child, Tony. I wish you would stop playing these stupid games. If you don’t like me, there’s nothing I can do about that. But don’t pretend. It’s much more cruel than hating me outright.”

Tony looked as though she had dashed cold water over him. Sera walked past him, out of the room, and he stood a moment wondering what had given her the idea he hated her. Women took such stupid notions. All over a damn horse. He supposed he would have to buy the thing back now. He had only been trying to protect her. But hate her? Never!

A man with a little more experience with women would have gone after her, would have stopped making excuses and tried to explain himself. That would have meant apologizing, and Tony truly did not think he had done anything wrong, at least not on purpose. He went instead back to the stable. He found Chadwick alone and was thankful for that at least.

“Find out from Tattersall’s where that mare went, and buy her back.”

“How much should I pay?” Chadwick asked impassively.

“Whatever you have to,” Tony said, giving him the roll of money he had just received for the sale of four horses at Tatt’s. “Don’t come back without her.”

“Yes, sir.”

As with many of their arguments, there was no real reconciliation. They simply did not speak of it again. By now there were dozens of things Sera was afraid to speak of again. Lady Amanda feared that she was in the way, and went to Sera after breakfast to offer to return to Oak Park.

“Oh, please don’t leave us now. I shall have no one to talk to when Tony is angry.”

“I don’t know what is wrong with him. He used to be so gay—never irritable like this.”

“He has so much on his mind now. I expect he will get over it. But it is nothing to do with you. It is a relief for me to have you here.”

Eventually Lady Amanda believed her, and to cheer them both up, Sera took her shopping. She ordered a hackney for the expedition, since she did not like to leave Tony’s coach horses standing in the street, nor to tie up one of the grooms for hours on end.

There were only Jeffers, Chadwick and an undergroom to look after the stables. Their household staff was similarly reduced. They were fortunate in being able to leave the kitchen staff and most of the underservants at the town house, for the lessors to pay.

Rayburn, the butler, when queried by Sera on his preferences, said he would like a change of scene. It was he who had supervised their move to Marsham Street, with so much dignity that it could not be thought to be a financial rout, but rather a planned temporary retreat into a quieter neighborhood. Rayburn achieved all with no loss of face for himself or the family, and had been instrumental in engaging the new kitchen staff.

Tony frankly admired the man’s loyalty. But Rayburn was also inspired by a lively sympathy for his new mistress. From some few things Marie had let fall, and Rayburn’s own observations, he could see that things were not as they should be between the new Lord and Lady Cairnbrooke. He resolved to do all in his power to smooth any difficulties between them.

Marie thought Rayburn had been an easy ally for Sera to enlist, almost no challenge compared to the reserved Stewart, whose first loyalty should have been to Tony. With his whole staff conspiring against him, Lord Cairnbrooke should not be too difficult to bring into line. Sera had been vaguely aware of these subtle shifts in loyalty, but thought it only natural, since she was responsible for the household staff.

On the way to the shops, Marie’s droll comments on the state of dress or undress of the ladies they passed had both Sera and Lady Amanda giggling until they went by a fashionable phaeton halted before a hat shop in Oxford Street. They were just getting down from the hackney to enter the shop when an irritating trill of laughter caused them to look at the occupant. It was Madeleine Vonne, which would not have been so upsetting, except that it was Tony who was gazing up at her and causing her laughter.

Sera stood frozen on the pavement for a moment. How could he look at her so, as though she still had him bewitched, when she had come so close to getting him killed? Lady Amanda gaped, and had just opened her mouth to say something, when Sera grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shop. Marie paid off the driver.

Sera composed herself for her mother-in-law’s sake and refused to speak of the incident, even when the shop girls were not bustling about them. She secretly prayed Madeleine and Tony would have gone when they left.

Up until she saw Tony with Madeleine, Sera had thought him so beaten down with grief over his brother and father that he could never be happy. That was why she did not push him for a more normal marriage. Yet there he was, laughing and chatting in public to the jade who had nearly ruined him. Sera could not recall ever feeling so hurt in her life. Tony was not, to her way of thinking, a very wise man, but she had never before had reason to doubt his sanity. What if Lord Vonne should see them? What if he should hear of the incident? It was just the sort of nasty gossip that got carried right where it would do the most harm.

When they returned home, she came to regret not letting Lady Amanda vent her wrath in the shop in Oxford Street, for she attacked Tony about it at dinner. There was a blazing argument between those two, in which Tony accused his mother of meddling and Sera of spying on him. “I cannot very well ignore Lady Vonne, can I?” he demanded of Sera’s downcast face. “Can I?” he persisted.

“No,” she said, wondering what he wanted of her. So often what he shouted about had nothing to do with why he was angry, and there was no point in arguing with him. It only made them both ridiculous. He slammed out of the house with no dinner, which stole Sera’s appetite, as well.

“I must leave now,” vowed Lady Amanda.

“Certainly not,” said Sera, shaky, but more composed than either Tony or Lady Amanda. “To be sure, he will have forgotten all about it by tomorrow. He is most angry when he knows he is in the wrong, and he will do something nice for us by way of apology.”

“But that is just what Edwin was like.”

“Perhaps Tony is only imitating him, then.”

“I hope not,” Lady Amanda said, and Sera was afraid to ask her what she meant. But if his mother was outraged at Tony’s behavior, then it was not her imagination that their marriage was a strange one. Others might think so, too, especially if Tony seemed once again on intimate terms with Madeleine Vonne. Sera could abandon him, of course. She had enough money to live by herself wherever she chose, even to take Lady Amanda with her. It was the thought of this, rather than Tony’s sad lapse, that left her sobbing into her pillow that night. She did love him. Reso- lutely she dried her eyes. She must make a push to win him, then, or at least keep him so distracted he had no time for Madeleine.

* * *

Sera did not miss Chadwick for a day or two. If she had asked Tony where her groom had gone, he might have shyly said that he had sent him after Tansy. But she did not ask, and Tony did not volunteer the information. If Chadwick could not get the horse back, there was no point in getting Sera’s hopes up.

Sera had returned to her calm and normal self the next day. She was not at all like Lady Vonne, who would never have let such a quarrel die until she had Tony at her feet. Moreover, Sera seemed to have forgotten all about the horse, and Tony had begun to wonder if he had been hasty in sending Chadwick off after it.

Tony had from the first morning read The Times at breakfast, Sera suspected to avoid conversation. In the absence of Lady Amanda, who lately preferred to breakfast in bed, Sera carried on a monologue that frequently tried the reserve of the butler, Rayburn, who was not supposed to be attending to the conversation.

“It says here that Lord Haye spoke in Parliament yesterday,” she pretended to read from the Morning Post, “on the abolition of war...and the prohibition of all hunting in Hampshire...and the Midlands,” she added, failing to get a rise out of Tony.

Rayburn overset a teacup, which did make Tony look up.

“That’s where you hunted last year, isn’t it? In the Midlands?”

“Mmm...” Tony grunted.

Sera smiled sweetly at Rayburn, who staunchly froze his face.

“In the society news,” she continued, “it seems that lapdogs are on the decline. At least three well-bred ladies of fashion have taken monkeys as pets. Do you think I should get one too, Tony?”

“Yes, if you like.” The Times trembled, but Sera only thought Tony was turning a page.

Rayburn ineffectually tried to cover a guffaw with a cough.

“Are you ill?” Tony inquired acidly of the dignified, gray-haired retainer.

“No, m’lord.”

“Yes, I do think a monkey would be so particularly entertaining at the breakfast table, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Tony said, as deadpan as he could manage.

“Although one really can’t do much with a monkey other than feed him. Perhaps I shall buy myself a horse instead. If you do not have time to go to the sales with me, Chadwick can go. He’s a good judge of horses, isn’t he?”

“What? Yes, of course,” Tony returned.

“Good. That’s all settled, then.” Sera smiled triumphantly at Rayburn, who beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

Without giving it much thought, Tony had supposed when he got married that he would be allowed to read his Times undisturbed at the breakfast table, as his father had done. He wondered now if perhaps his father’s predilection for solitary reading was what had encouraged his mother to babble.

After a late night of cards, Tony was not much in the mood for conversation, anyway. But when he discovered one day that his monosyllabic replies to Sera’s breakfast sallies had given her permission to turn the largest downstairs room into her personal library, he began to listen with a little more attention, even though he was too proud to let her know this.

If only she asked for something as simple as a new hat. He had frequently to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright at some of her more ridiculous flights of fantasy. Behind his paper, he could exercise more control than Rayburn, who had to face Sera and voice an occasional reply.

Fortunately, Sera talked herself out of her sillier proposals, like the monkey, for she was not really a spoiled child, as he had once supposed. She was an inordinately inventive young woman who only wanted the smallest part of his attention. That he could not give her even that disturbed him more than he liked to admit. But he had to keep her at arm’s length until he was free of his debt to her. Once she no longer owned him, he could be a proper husband to her. It was only after Sera had gotten bored with her game and left on her errands for the day that Tony actually ate or studied the financial news for the day.

He knew that Rayburn no longer looked kindly on him, because of his supposed mistreatment of Sera, and he did not blame the man. He did not like himself much for how he had chosen to handle his problem. But he was making some small progress toward his goal of financial independence, and Sera seemed patient enough in most other matters.

If she truly had no female friends her own age, it might not occur to her what an odd marriage they had. But then he thought of Marie and those sharp French eyes looking daggers at him. No telling what she might confide to Sera.