A mule? Why on earth would a breeder of prize-winning stallions buy a mule? Meredith glanced back.
Mr. Cavenleigh's mouth twisted to a grimace. "Who said that?"
"So, it's true, then?" the gentleman laughed. "Why would you do that?"
Riding a mule sounded like the price of a wager typical of two gentlemen bachelors. Poor Mr. Cavenleigh. He really should have known better.
"Excuse me." Mr. Cavenleigh muttered to the still chuckling gentleman as he headed the door. As he passed Meredith, he gave her polite nod.
She sent him a sympathetic look and took a guess as to the odd purchase. "Gentlemen's wagers can be a sore trial, can they not?"
He looked startled. "He told you?"
A warning bell rang in Meredith's head. It was probably nothing, but she hadn't spent years developing her suspicious nature to let go of it now. She conjured up a giggle and waved her hand.
"We have few secrets. I don't know all the details, just that your losing involves a mule. I admit, I'm curious. Do elaborate." Phillip had failed to mention the entire wager, but Mr. Cavenleigh could make what he might of her words. "What must Phillip do if he loses?"
"He has to muck out my stables."
She covered her mouth and laughed. "Oh, dear. A humiliating and difficult task for someone born of a duke. No wonder he didn't tell me." The breadth of how unaffected he seemed by his high station continued to surprise her.
Cavenleigh almost smiled. "As humiliating as a prize stock breeder riding a mule at Hyde Park."
Part sympathetic and part amused, she laughed again. "I see. I almost wish there were a way you could both win to be spared."
He nodded. How odd to converse with Phillip's normally silent friend. Then again, quieter people were often overshadowed by more open, outgoing friends. People like Mr. Cavenleigh, who seemed content to allow their friends to carry conversation, sometimes conversed more when no one else filled that social obligation.
She gave him an encouraging smile in the hopes to get him to continue talking. "When, again, will the outcome be decided?"
"He wanted to make it when you announced your engagement, but I insisted it must be by Season's end, or the day after your wedding, in case you changed your mind."
Everything inside her went still.
He misread her expression. "I didn't know you then-you might have been a jilt. But you aren't flighty."
She put on an amused smile, while deep in her heart, the fear that once again she had been duped by a silver tongue crept out of his hiding place to haunt her.
She'd been the object of a gentleman's bet.
They had wagered about her marrying Phillip.
Had all of Phillip's attention been the result of his desire to give his friend a set down? But marriage seemed extreme. Still, perhaps he'd learned of her dowry despite her attempts and needed the money worse than she supposed. He was a second son, after all, and many families left second sons to fend for themselves by finding gentlemen's employment or marrying well. Perhaps he, too, was lying about wanting marriage and only wanted a dalliance. She should have known it was too good to be true.
Aware of Mr. Cavenleigh's observation, she conjured up a laugh. "That sounds a fitting wager. I doubt he has ever mucked out a stable, and I'm certain you have never sat on less than a prized purebred."
"Indeed. But the wager aside, I do wish you happiness."
At least, that's what she thought he said. The roaring in her ears drowned out most sounds around her. They'd bet on her. With high stakes to their pride.
"Thank you." She swallowed. "We are not engaged to be married, though."
"Of course. Premature."
She managed some sort of reply and took her leave of him. Once again, love had made a fool of her. How could she have been so foolish as to have believed it was real this time?
Home. She must go home. Now, before she lost her composure. Through blurred vision, she sought her aunt and uncle.
Annabel found her instead. "Oh, Merry, you must come. Mr. Morton has cornered Miss Harris." She took Meredith by the hand and towed her to another room.
Cora Harris? In trouble? Meredith cast off her sorrow and focused on protecting her friend. It was all she had left, it seemed.
"Please, listen to me," a male voice said.
In the far corner of a sitting room, Cora Harris stood with her hands upheld. Mr. Morton stood over her, his arms extended.
"I have heard all I need," Cora's voice quivered. "You only desire my dowry, just like those other ladies you courted. You never loved them, and you never loved me."
"That's not true." He stepped closer. "I do love you-more than I ever loved them."
Meredith hurried forward to lend aid to her friend and placed herself between them, facing Mr. Morton like a mother bear protecting her young. "Mr. Morton, the lady is not interested in your lies."
"I am not lying. I love her." He addressed her friend. "Cora, please, I love you!"
Meredith stood taller to protect her friend from doom.
Cora's muffled voice came from behind Meredith. "You only want my dowry. Now go away!"
He raked his fingers through his hair. "All right. I admit that at first, I sought you out only because of your dowry. My aunt cut me out of my inheritance when I refused to marry her half-witted daughter. And I never got the education to have a profession, such as a barrister. I don't have the nerve to enlist in the army. So yes, at first, my only plan was to marry well."
"Then you'd best leave, sir," Meredith said, staring him down. "Your game is over."
He cast a frantic glance at Cora behind her and then looked Meredith in the eye. "Please do not condemn me without allowing me to defend myself." The steady, courageous desperation in his expression gave her pause.
"Very well. State your case." She folded her arms.
"I don't need a dowry to support myself. I need it to care for a wife and children."
At least he was thinking about how he would provide for his family, but he was still a mercenary.
"Shortly after meeting Miss Harris," he continued. "I developed a true attachment to her. I enjoy being with her, and I like who I become in her presence. She makes me want to be a better man. I want to spend all my days with her. And if her dowry did not exist, I would find a way to provide for her-learn some kind of skill. I would marry her even if she were penniless."
Behind Meredith, Cora's breath caught. His earnest expression pled for understanding. But was he truly sincere? Phillip Partridge had seemed genuine too, but it had all been part of a wager, the true purpose of which she had yet to determine.
"Do you mean that?" Cora said.
He stepped to the side and reached for her. "Cora, darling, I mean that with all my heart."
Meredith turned over his words, searching for a hidden agenda. Nothing came to mind. He seemed sincere. She glanced back.
Cora stared at him with tears brightening her eyes and a smile that transformed a plain girl into a beauty. "Oh, John!"
Meredith stepped to the side and allowed them to converse without her in their way.
"I am in earnest, Cora. I will refuse your dowry. Will you agree to an extended betrothal to allow me time to find a means to care for you as you deserve?"
Cora sniffled.
"Please, will you marry me?"
"Yes!" She ran into his arms.
As Meredith strode to Annabel lingering in the doorway, her cousin smiled. "That was brilliantly done."
Meredith shrugged. At least one person had found her true love. If Meredith must be denied that kind of joy, she would become the guardian of young girls to ensure they were never deceived. Someday, she might find and mend the broken pieces of her own heart.
On the ride home, Phillip agonized over his choice. Sever ties to his family and bring social censure upon them, or give up the only girl who'd ever seen-ever loved-him? She hadn't said she did, but her kiss had revealed her heart in a way words could not. One day she would trust him enough to declare her love for him.
Could he disappoint, humiliate, reject his family this way?
Could he give up Meredith Brown?
No. No, he could not, would not give her up. Of course, the condition of Mr. Stafford's permission to court Meredith was to gain his family's permission. He'd failed on that score. He refused to allow that to stop him.
Meredith might have an idea. The very thought of sharing his worries with her and seeking her counsel settled like a healing balm on his troubled heart.
Instead of going home to change, he rode directly to the location of tonight's musicale she would be attending. Wearing riding clothes dirty from the road, he didn't dare enter a home where everyone would be clean and dressed in their evening finery. He couldn't wait. He had to see her. He paced the sidewalk, waiting for her to exit the building.
Guests began emerging, and Phillip moved closer to the steps where he would be illuminated by the light spilling out of the fanlight above the door. A few who exited the house recognized and greeted him, and he replied to them as if he always lurked about the streets, dressed for a day in the country.