Page 18 of His Wife, the Spy
“Lovely estate, Ramsbury.” Wareham surveyed the length of the ridge and the view of the Hall below. “Almost as large as Faversham’s.”
The man never let anyone forget he was heir to the Duke of Faversham, who refused to die. Jasper had a suspicion that the duke planned to outlive Wareham and give the title to a grandson who could be overseen by his sons-in-law. Both men had better temperaments and leveler heads than the current heir.
“All you need is a wife,” Raines said, his voice pitched to mimic an Almack’s matron. “A pretty girl with a good dowry who wants a title.”
Wareham’s laughter was brief as he glanced to Miss Bainbridge and Miss Wallace. “They seem to be thin on the ground this Season.”
None of the ladies in their party gave Wareham much attention, despite the possibility of becoming a duchess. Jasper feigned interest anyway. Talk of women always led to talk of fathers.
“What about Miss Spencer?” he asked.
Wareham leaned back to receive his plate. “She’s damned young, don’t you think?”
She was far too young, and in ways that had nothing to do with age. “By next Season, I believe her chaperone will have worked her magic.”
Wareham looked over his shoulder, back toward the quieter members of the party. “Miss Pearce would be a better choice, I think. A baron’s daughter, and she knows how to behave properly.”
“No dowry,” Raines said. “You’d have a plain—but proper—duchess, and she’d likely have the whole family in tow. I suppose if you kept Chilworth from your treasury…”
Money was always Raines’s preferred topic, and it was expected, given his father’s position in government. The Marquess of Graydon, treasurer of the Exchequer, had anincreasing responsibility due to the new tax collections going into Britain’s coffers.
“Miss Allen’s dowry caused a stir during her debut.” Wareham removed a flask from his coat pocket and offered it first to Raines and then to Jasper. When they refused, he took a gulp large enough for the three of them. “Has her father still settled it on her?”
“Given everything, he may have increased it as an incentive.” Raines shrugged. “But I’d prefer not to have thetonwhispering behind us at every ball.”
“Not even for thirty thousand?” Wareham giggled. “And a horse that knows the track?”
“Mind your step, Wareham,” Jasper growled.I will not hit him. I promised Fiona I wouldn’t beat every oaf who maligned her.
“Some bargains are too expensive,” Raines said. “The same could be said of Miss Spencer. All the polish in the world could never compensate for her snake of a father.” He gathered his plate and moved to another table, immediately distracting both Miss Wallace and Miss Bainbridge from their escorts, who would only inherit modest earldoms.
Just when the conversation was getting interesting.
Jasper left Wareham at the table alone and joined Kit in the shadows.
“You look ready to chew nails,” his friend said. “Have you called someone out?”
“Not yet. But I cannot guarantee Wareham will leave in the same condition in which he arrived.”
“Wait until he’s drunk.” Kit barked a laugh. “At least then he won’t remember.”
As luncheon ended, the only noises were the cries of hawks overhead and the chuffs of horses eager to return to their stalls. It was quiet enough to hear the hum of whispers, and brightenough to see the glances spearing toward Fiona and Annabel walking along the ridge line.
Jasper stood. “Why don’t we race downhill back to the hall? If I’m going to spend a lazy afternoon, I’d prefer it be without spiders.”
The mention of skittering creatures had Miss Bainbridge and Miss Wallace hurrying for their horses, and the promise of a race had the same effect on Raines and Wareham. Even Kit seemed excited as he escorted the chaperones to their carriage.
Jasper shared a conspiratorial wink with Fiona as he lifted her into the saddle. “Give them a fair shot, Fi.”
“Not on your life,” she crowed as she maneuvered to the agreed-upon starting line.
Annabel was the only guest not focused on race preparations. Jasper joined her, putting his back to the starting line to watch a pair of hawks soar and dance through the valley below. They called to one another as they followed the silvery-blue river that seemed no wider than a ribbon.
“Can you imagine being that free?” she whispered. He wasn’t certain she knew he was at her side.
As the birds vanished from sight, she stepped forward to search them out, but hesitated. In her green habit, she blended into the landscape like a creature afraid to be seen.
Or perhaps afraid to lose her balance.
