Embleton shook his head. “I had planned to, come spring. They are not quite two, and just now adjusting to walking beside other animals, albeit not entirely well. Running alongside another animal is still to come.”
Michael glanced at the horses again. “They are doing quite well in this crowd.”
“So far, I have been pleased. They have proven quite easy to train.” Embleton smiled. “Which will be a point made during the long trot.”
Michael thought about the “long trot,” those moments when a horse would be led back and forth along a dirt path at the far side of Tattersall’s courtyard, just before the bidding began. The goal was to allow buyers to view the horse in action, but owners would often be in the crowd, adding their comments to the auctioneer’s about the quality of the horse. “I have heard rumors that I am not the only one who will be bidding on your steeds today.”
Embleton sobered. “I have heard the same. I have also heard that the goal will be more about driving up the price than any real interest in the animals.”
“Wykeham seems to feel the need to compete with me, but that may be linked to his current, um, investment with my brother.”
Embleton glanced at him, then Robert, who seemed to ignore the conversation. Michael continued. “He may see them as a path to resolve certain... discrepancies... in that investment. I understand he means to race them. Soon. In order to recoup the cost.”
Embleton’s eyes dulled. “In order to bet on the races.”
“So I hear.”
Riding in silence a few moments, Embleton looked several times at the horses, each time his eyes narrowing a bit more, a hard line forming between his eyebrows. “They really need more training. Should not be raced for at least six months.”
Michael shrugged.
“And your plans for them?”
“I mean to build a good stable at Ashton Park and the new boys’ school. That’s my primary desire for the stallion. But the geldings would continue their training. And would be used to teach the boys about caring for fine animals. Racing, when they are ready, when they are known for their performance, for which we would be facilitating major bets.”
“So the other rumor I have heard—”
“Is also true.”
The duke gave a sly smile and a nod at Philip’s back. “Kennet was never known for shirking from a scandal.”
“Or two.”
Embleton chuckled. “I will meet you in the courtyard.”
Michael touched his forehead. “I look forward to it.”
The duke, whose left arm hung limply at his side, shifted the grip on the reins in his right hand and pressed in with his knees. Smoothly, his horse eased up and fell back into line with his own group.
Philip checked over his shoulder, then edged his horse to the right. The others followed, pulling out of the crowd and halting short of the twin arched entrances to the auction house. He dismounted and waited as the others did the same. As they gathered around, Philip laid out the plans for the next few hours.
“The grooms will care for the horses. I have an appointment with Tattersall, during which I will register the new business with him and let him know our immediate plans.”
Michael stared at his father. “You made an appointment—”
“One must not hesitate when an opportunity presents itself, Michael. Saturday morning, I spoke with our estate solicitor, then sent a message to Tattersall.” He addressed the group again. “While I am in with Tattersall, Thomas will begin circulating through the right-side gallery and stalls, as well as the Jockey Club and subscription rooms. Robert will work on the left side. Michael, you and Little will focus on the courtyard and the auctions themselves. Your main purpose today is to purchase those horses. We expect other bids, so do not hesitate to raise the price. I want you to be as visible as possible.”
Philip paused and pulled a small leather packet from his inner pocket. “I have had trade cards printed for today. If they bear results, I will have more created.” He opened the packet and drew out a stack of small cards and handed several to Michael and his brothers. “Once you engage in a conversation with a gentleman, offer one of these.”
Michael looked down at the cards in his hand. Larger than a calling card but not by much, the front of the trade card bore a script F in the upper left corner and a script K in the lower right. In the middle, block letters announced “Fairside Facilitators.” Fairside was the name of his father’s shipping and storage company, so it made sense to use it for additional business dealings. “A Campion’s Auxiliary” ran in smaller letters beneath the name, and in the lower left corner, “Ld. Michael Ashton, Prop.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Not particularly subtle, Father.”
Philip adjusted his top hat. “I do not believe subtlety is a Kennet bulwark, Robert.”
“More like a direct assault,” Thomas muttered.
Philip handed his reins to the Ashton House groom. “Gentlemen, let us begin.”
