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Chapter Eight
Two days after Nancy’s party, a subdued Rowena boarded her family’s carriage once again. They were attending the Epsom Derby, a very fashionable event amongst theton. Horse racing, known as the Sport of Kings, drew nobility from every corner of London. She wondered how her father had arranged their attendance, for one usually had to plan well in advance to get into the popular yearly event. She, her parents, and sister were dressed to the nines, the women’s outfits topped with the kind of elaborate hats that werede rigeurfor the ladies at Epsom.
Rowena, however, unlike the rest of her family, was not looking forward to the event. She loved horses, and she enjoyed both riding them and watching others ride. But the concept of whipping and spurring the horses just to win a prize seemed cruel to Rowena. Horses deserved affection and kindness and to be ridden with love in her book. It baffled her that people who called themselves refined and cultured could condone something she found barbaric.
“It is a lovely day for the races,” the viscountess gushed. “I can hardly wait to see the horses in action.”
Rowena immediately noticed the false enthusiasm in her mother’s voice. She knew then that her mother was just putting on a brave face, and for more than one reason, no doubt. Though no one had made mention of it, everyone knew the viscount would be squandering what little money they had left on betting.
They were all equally aware that he would inevitably lose whatever wagers he made and they would inevitably be going home poorer. But Rowena guessed the viscountess was also a bundle of nerves because the other reason for attending the Derby was to give Rowena another chance to be seen by her peers in a fashionable social setting.
I am beginning to wish to just get a marriage over and done with,she thought bitterly, keeping her gaze firmly fixed outside the carriage window so that no one could see her eyes.At least that would be the end of the humiliation of being paraded around.But who, apart from a very desperate man, would want to marry a spinster like her, with such a poor reputation to boot? And why could her father not understand that?
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Rowena’s stomach twisted. Even from the outside of the horse track, she could see the crowds of people already filling the stadium. There were people lined up all the way around the fence separating the paddocks and track from the spectators. The grandstand, which was three tiers tall, was teeming with people. And that was where she and her family were headed.
As they worked their way through the crowd, where members of thetonflaunted their fashionable attire, chattering gaily among themselves, Rowena felt a twinge of pain in her head. She wondered how anyone could ever make a match at such a place. It was a hive of humanity, and people were moving shoulder-to-shoulder at barely a snail’s pace. Rowena sighed, hoping simply to get the day over with.
The viscount turned and tried to speak to the women, but they could not hear him over the conversation buzzing around them. The women squeezed together, pushing closer to the viscount as he tried again.
“There is something to which I must attend before the races begin,” he said, still having to raise his voice to be heard. “Please, excuse me. Look around the stalls if you like until I return. I shall be but just a few moments.”
The women nodded, none of them bothering to attempt to be heard over the crowd as they waved to the viscount. Rowena’s heart sank as she watched her father walk away. Part of her was sure he was headed to one of the bookies stands to place a wager, or several, they could ill afford. And judging from the expression on her mother’s face, Rowena could tell she thought the same thing. Would her father never learn?
“Oh, Rowena,” Sybil breathed as they approached the stalls. “Look at that magnificent mare.”
Rowena looked where her sister gestured. There was, indeed, a majestic black mare, with a shining coat and brilliant, light brown eyes. Rowena wished she could pet the animal, but she knew its owner would likely be unimpressed.
“She is beautiful,” she agreed, once more thinking about how unfairly the horses were treated.
She shuddered to think about how trapped and abused the animals must feel. But then, wasn’t she herself in much the same predicament as these noble beasts? She was being paraded around like a trophy to be won, in the hopes that some man would be desperate enough to wish to wed her, and all against her will. And once she was married, she would be stuck with a husband who didn’t love her for the rest of her life. She couldn’t imagine anything more horrible, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming.
This is for Sybil,she scolded herself, directing her attention to another stall, where a stout brown steed stood munching the grass.Nothing in the world matters besides her future and happiness.
It was true, of course. She could never live with herself if her sister never had the debut she deserved, and the chance to find a husband who would take good care of her. But that didn’t stop Rowena’s bitterness toward her father.
It would have been one thing if the financial woes had been no fault of her father’s. But he was directly to blame, and now she believed he was digging them deeper into debt. How could she not be upset with the situation? And why was it her duty to keep the secret from the rest of her family?
The mention of her name pulled Rowena from her thoughts. She looked at her mother and sister, expecting to see one of them trying to get her attention. But the pair were looking at a chestnut-colored horse a few stalls away from where she stood. Rowena stiffened, casually glancing around as she tried to find the source of the voice. When she found it, she froze.
“What on earth can that woman be thinking?” one of the well-dressed women said. “Surely, she doesn’t think any man will be interested in an old maid like her.”
Another woman giggled.
“Certainly not with her reputation, and certainly not a handsome, rich baron,” the other woman said.
Rowena recognized her immediately as Lady Viola, whom she had briefly met at Nancy’s party. She bit her lip and tried to keep her face hidden, but she couldn’t help continuing to listen.
“The Whitworth family is surely embarrassed,” a third woman said. “Imagine having to parade your disgraced daughter around because she has not succeeded in securing a husband for herself.”
The first two women laughed loudly.
“She couldn’t even secure a courtship,” the first one said.
They all laughed then. Rowena’s cheeks burned, and all she wanted to do was to get out of there and flee back to the country. But she had to know if they knew anything of her parents’ plight. If word about that got around, Nancy would soon find out, and Sybil would be ruined. Could the gossips have found out that information somehow, too?
But before Rowena could hear anymore, her father returned. Behind him was a portly, middle-aged gentleman with a red face and whiskers. Her mother and Sally saw the pair just as she did, and they turned to face the men.
“My darlings,” the viscount said, practically having to shout to be heard over the buzz of talk surrounding them. “I would like to introduce you all to a very good friend of mine, Berton Axford, the Earl of Axenshire.” He paused, reaching for Rowena’s hand, and smiling proudly at her. “My lord, this is my middle daughter, Rowena.”
