Regency Christmas Wishes(19)

Lord Iverson, as guest of honor, sat to Miss Relaford’s right. Mr. Frye, as Mr. Beasdale’s choice for nephew-in-law, sat at her left. Jenna scowled down the entire length of the flower-decked table at her uncle.

Adam was seated between the new Lady Iverson’s hard-of-hearing aunt and her younger sister, who was barely out of the schoolroom. The chit not only had Ivy’s wife’s red hair and freckles, but she also possessed spots and a stammer. Adam scowled sideways at Frye, causing Miss Applegate to stutter into speechlessness.

Neither the baronet nor the banker’s niece enjoyed the meal. Everyone else seemed to, savoring course after course and glass after glass. The younger sister grew giddy and the elderly aunt dropped her hearing trumpet in the syllabub. At Miss Relaford’s end, Lord Iverson was everything polite, speaking of his honeymoon trip and his horses. For the first time Jenna found his lordship’s polished manners tedious, except when he spoke of his schooldays with Sir Adam. Mr. Frye was simply tedious.

At last it was time for her to lead the ladies from the room, with a last frown in her uncle’s direction and a whisper to Hobart to see that the gentlemen did not tarry long over their port and cigars. She wanted to dance. Soon. With the partner of her own choice.

Adam took Jenna’s chair at the end of the table near Ivy, and Lieutenant Cresswell took Frye’s seat when the young financier left to visit the necessary. Ivy’s new father-in-law joined them and, to Adam’s regret, so did Mr. Beasdale.

Five gentlemen of such disparate ages, backgrounds, and interests could have little common ground for conversation except the weather, which topic was quickly exhausted. It was December. It was cold. It was going to grow colder.

Then Ivy, somewhat in his cups, asked about Standings, trying to promote Adam’s courtship by recalling the mellow brick country home, the charming village and scenic vistas, the nearness to Newmarket. If Adam could have kicked his old friend under the table he would have, but Ivy had pushed his chair back. The last thing Adam wanted to speak of was his dilapidated estate, the fields left fallow for lack of funds to seed them, the boarded-up windows, the races that had taken all of his father’s money, or the needy townsfolk who went hungry because Standings could not provide employment. He could do more now, with his friends’ contributions to his coffers, but not enough. He wished Ivy would change the subject.

Ivy did. “I say, Adam, do you still have those magnificent Thoroughbreds of your father’s?”

That was worse. The horses were the first thing to be sold at the previous baronet’s demise. Beasdale already knew it, of course, since he held Adam’s father’s notes. Still, Adam hated having to admit that the horses were gone these past years.

“What about that vast stable block?”

That was the only thing about the estate that his father had maintained. “It is in good condition, empty except for a few hens and the plow horses.”

“And the training oval?”

Adam kicked at Lieutenant Cresswell’s leg, to get him to get Ivy to put a sock in it. Instead, Johnny yelped.

“Sorry,” Adam said. “And yes, the track is still there, so overgrown I have been letting the cows pasture there. I hope to plow it under, perhaps next spring. Why?”

Ivy nodded toward his father-in-law. “I promised Mr. Applegate that I would find work. I am of a mind to raise horses.”

Mr. Beasdale made a rude noise. “Can’t make any money off the hay-burners. Standish here ought to know. Ruined his father, didn’t they?”

“He was betting on the horses,” Ivy replied before Adam could respond. “I intend to sell them. And making a fortune is not the point. I married one, along with my beloved wife. But my esteemed father-in-law is correct: a man needs some direction in life, a goal, a purpose. I bear a useless honorary title, with no seat in the Lords, if I were inclined toward politics, which I am not. I have no profession and few skills beyond the dance floor and the card room—but I do know good horseflesh.”

“Always did,” the lieutenant agreed, lifting his glass in tribute to Lord Iverson’s equine expertise.

“And my wife shares my interest in horses.”

“Always did,” Mr. Applegate echoed.

“So what are you getting at?” Adam asked.

Mr. Beasdale seconded that: “Standings is entailed, so you cannot buy it.”

“Lud, I don’t want to purchase the place, I already have a country seat. I merely want to rent the stables and the training fields.”

“You have been drinking too much,” Adam told him, not daring to hope his friend was sober enough to make sense.