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“So lucky Miss Montrose was on hand to save me from drowning, but I feel for that poor animal.”
Fanny, a devoted horsewoman, was glad to see his contrition was genuine. She sat down on a chair by his side. “No doubt Mr Bramley is highly relieved you paid him for Carnaby last night, and it was kind of you to consider the animal worth saving, even though he?
??ll never race again. But yes, it sounds as if Miss Montrose is to be commended for her quick acting. Miss Montrose is unusual.” She pretended to puzzle it out, while darting him a look to ascertain whether her words evinced more than a spark of interest. They did. “And not just with regard to her heroism, it must be noted.”
His frown was wiped away by a beatific smile. “Indeed, she is not the usual miss by any standards. She might appear a shrinking violet, but she certainly speaks her mind.”
“I can’t imagine why she would want to marry Mr Bramley.” There, Fanny would get straight to the point. “They have nothing in common. I don’t think she even particularly likes him.”
He sat up straighter, his look more interested. “I gained the same impression.”
“Did you, Mr Patmore?” Fanny pretended astonishment. She leant in closer. “Might I confess something to you?”
He looked highly gratified as he nodded. “It will go no further.”
“Mr Bramley is a cruel and selfish man. I will be transparent.” Oh, she’d tell the whole world if she could. “Some years ago, he tried to mire me in scandal so that Lord Fenton would have no desire to wed me.” She raised her eyes to the ornate plaster ceiling. “Of course, the bonds that bound my darling husband and myself were too strong to be broken. Bramley failed in his miserable quest. But I fear that his malevolent streak will make the woman he weds deeply unhappy. I would so wish to find someone else who could turn her head. Do you know of anyone, Mr Patmore?”
“Know of anyone?” he repeated, somewhat stupidly, she thought.
“Yes, someone who you think might find her strange and reticent ways appealing. To be perfectly honest, she isn’t likely to take the average gentleman’s fancy. She appears distant, yet it’s clear there are hidden depths of passion just waiting to be tapped.” Fanny rose. This was a good thought on which to leave him to dwell.
With a final smile, she went to the door. “Ah well, I just looked in to see how the patient was faring, Mr Patmore. I’m so glad you’re on the mend. Fenton and I shall be returning to London shortly, and I wanted to reassure myself you were going to live. Cousin George insists you must remain here until your ankle is quite healed. Very generous of him. I really didn’t mean to be so uncharitable earlier.” She sighed. “I’m sure he’s quite enchanted with Miss Montrose and has every intention of being the man to tap her hidden depths. You know him better than I do, after all, through your shared love of horses.”
“I love to ride them, and Bramley loves to bet on them,” Rufus answered the second Miss Brightwell—or rather, Duchess of Quamby—when she bounced into his room a little later with a question on whether his other friends shared his equine interests. Naturally, he couldn’t call her Antoinette as she’d invited him to do, and, naturally, he couldn’t respond with a liveliness or flirtatiousness that matched hers. Granted she was lovely, but her seductive manner made him uncomfortable. He got the impression she was sizing him up. Whether as a potential lover or for something else, he couldn’t ascertain. But sticking to the topic of horses seemed safe enough.
She fired another question at him as she settled herself on the seat which her sister had recently vacated. “What kind of horse does Miss Montrose prefer? Like you, she loves horses. Loves riding them, that is! And darling Quamby and I were just discussing how we’d love to make her a gift of one of the mounts from Quamby’s stables. You know, to thank her as a reward for yesterday’s great act of heroism in rescuing my darling Young George and the other children.”
“And rescuing me, don’t forget, Lady Quamby.”
“No, you wouldn’t forget that in a hurry, I’d wager, Mr Patmore.”
Rufus’s mind wandered as he considered her question and suddenly an idea popped into his head. A very wicked idea that had the potential to go awfully wrong and yet could have quite delightful ramifications.
“She showed a great deal of partiality for Devil’s Run.”
“Lord, Devil’s Run is a brute. Well, that’s what Cousin George says.”
“Exactly what the groom told Miss Montrose. Yet she protested. Said she was an excellent horsewoman, and if she could have the pick of any of the mounts in Lord Quamby’s stable, it would be Devil’s Run.”
Lady Quamby clapped her hands. “Then she shall have Devil’s Run. It’s what my darling Quamby would want as a sign of his appreciation.”
Sudden doubt made Rufus cautious and, despite his earlier devilry, he wondered if he’d been too cavalier. “Perhaps you should consult Mr Bramley first.”
Lady Quamby stared at him a moment, a faint frown creasing her brow before her expression cleared. “Indeed, I shall do no such thing. Devil’s Run belongs to my husband, and if I wish for him to give the horse to Miss Montrose, he will happily accede.”
Rufus shifted beneath the bedcovers and imagined the fine figure Miss Montrose would cut when seated high upon Devil’s Run’s back. “Perhaps she can take the horse with her when she leaves tomorrow. I know she laments the fact she’ll have no diversion in the interim leading up to her nuptials.”
Lady Quamby rose. “Good idea! I shall see to it! It’ll be just a little thing to find stabling for a couple of weeks before Devil’s Run returns here.”
“Here?” Rufus raised an enquiring brow. “So it is true that Mr Bramley and his new wife will take up residence on a permanent basis?”
“Yes, in a set of apartments at Quamby House that I helped decorate myself.” Lady Quamby hesitated on the threshold, apparently in two minds as to whether to make him a confidant. He could see the way her eyes danced and the turn-up of her rosebud lips. Lowering her voice, she said conspiratorially, “Lord Quamby believes his nephew, Mr Bramley, should be ready to run the estate in the event that Young George isn’t old enough to take the reins should that terrible day come earlier than anticipated. However, the real truth is that Quamby agreed to have George Bramley in residence as a favour to his sister, who clings to the vain hope her son can be made a man. Not very likely, I say. Nevertheless, Quamby is quite firm on acceding to what he considers his sister’s dying wish.”
“It sounds like you know Mr Bramley well.” Rufus was intrigued to hear more about the relationship between Bramley and the Brightwell sisters in view of Lady Fenton’s earlier transparency.
“Too well, I’m afraid, Mr Patmore.” Lady Quamby looked sorrowful. “Quamby is too softhearted for his own good, so he will do as his sister wishes. However, he knows, too, that his nephew is completely irredeemable. I do wonder that you and he could be such friends.”
Friends? Oh, they weren’t friends, Rufus reflected when she’d gone. He wished he’d never become involved with the fellow if the truth be told.
