Page 1 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
Prologue
Royal Ascot, England, 1798
“Robert? Philip? Are you two not watching? The race is about to begin.”
Robert pulled his attention away from where he was toasting with his friend, Philip Welton, the Duke of Lantham. They had been laughing for so long that Robert couldn’t even remember how their discussion had begun, yet Philip was wiping tears away from his eyes as Robert tried to stop himself from choking on his wine.
“You know the pair of them, dear,” Philip’s wife, Amelia, was saying with a laugh of her own. “Leave them to it. They’ll watch the race when they’re good and ready.”
“I think our wives despair of us,” Robert said with a hearty chuckle, taking his friend’s shoulder and steering him away from the carafes of wine towards the box that overlooked the racing field.
“You don’t say?” Philip laughed, shaking his head. “Amelia predicted it well enough. Whenever we’re together, we’re incorrigible.”
“Soon enough, we won’t be able to get you apart,” Cecily, Robert’s wife, appeared at his side. He smiled when he looked at her eyes – violet in colour. They were striking and so unique that he had never seen another woman with those eyes before. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her, and since the day they had met, he had found himself growing more and more in love with her.
Just a year ago, she had given birth to their first child, Juliet, and Robert was delighted that his good friend, Philip, had agreed to be godfather.
“With your sister, Rob, and your brother, Philip, getting married, you’ll be in each other’s company constantly!” Cecily said with a laugh. “On second thoughts, Amelia, I will take that drink.”
Amelia laughed and filled up the glass as they moved to the window of the box, laughing together.
“They’re right, you know,” Philip said, elbowing Robert. “We’ll be family soon.”
“Hmm. If you look at the pair of them, you’d think they were impatient for the wedding.” Robert pointed over his shoulder into the far corner of the box, gesturing past others who were guests of the king in the royal corner of the racecourse. Through heads dressed in fine hats and bodies clothed in smart suits, in the corner of the room, they could see Emily and Hugh together.
They sat calmly, talking to one another, perhaps even having forgotten that they were on a race day. Emily’s light-brown hair, which was much like Robert’s own, was tucked up at the back of her head, curling softly. Her hand held Hugh’s tightly, and the poor man seemed incapable of looking at anyone but Emily.
“Impatient? What gave you that idea?” Philip said with a wry tone as Hugh lifted Emily’s hand to his lips and kissed the back.
“I wonder.” Robert shook his head and turned back to face the window. “Cecily is right. The race is starting.” He gestured forward beyond the open window down at the course.
The great lawn stretched out in front of them, dry and arid in the heat of the hot summer they had been enduring. Many of the gentlemen gathered in the sun by the fences had shed their jackets in that heat, and the ladies had brought fans with them to flutter in front of their faces. Above the many heads, with cheeks flushed red in the heat, people waved betting cards, either eager to make their bets or wanting to claim their winnings.
At one side of the course, the horses were lined up, ready to start.
“Yours looks to be in fine condition,” Philip said with a begrudging pat on Robert’s shoulder. “No hard feelings if you win, eh?”
“Same for you.” Robert nodded at the horses. “Neither of us cares about that commission to breed horses for the king, do we?”
“Not at all. Thought it might be useful,” Philip confessed with a small smile and a wink, the movement of his head making his dark hair dance about his forehead. “Such a charter could be profitable indeed. So whichever of us wins it, or if indeed another wins it, let us toast their success. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Robert was all too happy to make this arrangement. He could not deny the royal charter would be useful for his family as well. It would be a good advancement, and when his daughter was grown, maybe he could even introduce her at the royal court if he could only move in the royal circles first.
“They’re starting,” Cecily said with excitement, clutching Robert’s arm. It was always the same; with any race they watched, she held onto him tightly. He looked at her, feeling the warmth and love he had for her growing. “Oh, I do hope the animals will be well. It pains me when they are hurt.”
“The horses are well trained, and the jockeys, too. They’ll be quiet safe,” Robert assured her, threading an arm around her waist as the horses trotted into the starting blocks.
A general hush fell over the whole racecourse as a man stood at the side of the track, holding a pistol into the air.
Robert could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he stared at his horse. In stall number three, his horse, Midnight Dancer, was raring to go. With a deep black coat, a long nose, and thick, strong legs, he was noticeable from a great distance away. Over the last two years, Robert’s horses had been winning many races, and no other horse had won more than his prize stallion, Midnight Dancer.
Come on. You can do it. Win me that commission.
Then the pistol fired, and the horses bolted out of the stalls.
“Look, look at them go,” Amelia called excitedly. Her hair, as dark as her husband’s, was braided at the back of her head and now swung around as she jumped about with her excitement. “Oh, our two horses are ahead!”
Robert held his breath as Cecily beside him sent prayers to God to keep the two horses safe. It was true that Midnight Dancer and Philip’s horse, Shadow, were neck and neck, striding out far ahead of the others.
