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Authors: Laura Landon
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the table.
Lively conversations went on all around him. A loud burst of laughter at the other end of the table drew his attention Everyone at the far end of the table was engrossed in a tale the Duke of Parneston was telling.
Toward the center of the table, George and Spence carried on enthusiastic discussions with Lady Brianna, Lady Hannah and a few of their guests.
Only a few seats away, Jules appeared enamored of Miss Amelia Hastings and whatever topic she’d chosen.
Harrison made a mental note to keep a more careful eye on his brothers. Each one of them had made excellent choices in the women they’d asked to have included on the guest list, but Harrison wasn’t prepared to handle anything more serious from any of them. He had troubles of his own with Cassandra’s attendance. Her presence turned him into the most inept host imaginable, which made him simmer with building fury.
To his relief, whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Elly or one of the twins came to his rescue.
Even the Earl of Charfield was an asset. The fact that he was so at ease at gatherings of this kind seemed to make Elly more comfortable. She joined in the conversations more than Harrison anticipated she might the first night the guests arrived. Hopefully, this party was just what she needed to bring her into the open.
If only the widowed Marchioness of Lathamton hadn’t come and spoiled everything.
“Did you attend the race in Grover’s meadow last week, Fellingsdown?” Jeremy Waverley asked. Not only was he a neighbor, as the late Earl of Lathamton had been, but he was a close friend of George’s.
Harrison pulled his thoughts back. “No, I’d already left to come here. But I heard it was an unbelievable sight.”
“That is a monumental understatement. Without a doubt, you missed the race of the year. Roger Wilkes has an Arabian he purchased in Russia he was eager to show off. Then, of course, there was Mattenworth’s prize thoroughbred. You couldn’t have found two horses more evenly matched.”
Waverley turned his gaze to where Charfield sat beside Elly. “You were there, weren’t you, Charfield?”
“I was as close to the finish line as I could get without risking being trampled when the horses finished the race. It was amazing.”
“Everyone agreed Downing’s horse was the most remarkable piece of Arabian horseflesh they’d ever seen...next to yours and Fellingsdown’s, of course.” Waverley cast a glance from Harrison to Charfield then moved his gaze to Lady Lathamton. All eyes followed him. “Do you still have my cousin’s Arabian. Or have you sold it?”
Her arm halted midway to her mouth and she slowly set her wine glass back to the table. “I still have it.”
“If I remember correctly, your husband told me his Arabian’s dame was the famous Rouboulet.” Waverley leaned closer in his chair and gave her a magnificent smile. “Would you consider parting with him if I made an offer? Since I’m Everett’s cousin, the horse would stay in the family.”
Everyone watched as Cassandra seemed to consider Waverley’s question. “Perhaps. If the offer were right. I don’t see much need to keep Everett’s horses.”
Harrison felt the stabbing of an emotion he couldn’t explain. Perhaps anger. Perhaps jealousy. “You would sell Brigado?” he heard himself ask. “He was, after all, your dear husband’s prize Arabian. I’d think it would be difficult to part with something that was his.”
Harrison watched the color drain from Cassandra’s face and knew his words had hit their mark. He wasn’t prepared, however, for the announcement she made.
“It would be a lie if I said that my late husband didn’t consider Brigado special. But I never shared his affection. Because of a bitter aftertaste left from the rejection of a former acquaintance, anything connected with horses – especially Arabians – is highly distasteful to me.”
Harrison’s blood turned an icier cold. Cassie hadn’t
Lively conversations went on all around him. A loud burst of laughter at the other end of the table drew his attention Everyone at the far end of the table was engrossed in a tale the Duke of Parneston was telling.
Toward the center of the table, George and Spence carried on enthusiastic discussions with Lady Brianna, Lady Hannah and a few of their guests.
Only a few seats away, Jules appeared enamored of Miss Amelia Hastings and whatever topic she’d chosen.
Harrison made a mental note to keep a more careful eye on his brothers. Each one of them had made excellent choices in the women they’d asked to have included on the guest list, but Harrison wasn’t prepared to handle anything more serious from any of them. He had troubles of his own with Cassandra’s attendance. Her presence turned him into the most inept host imaginable, which made him simmer with building fury.
To his relief, whenever there was a lull in the conversation, Elly or one of the twins came to his rescue.
Even the Earl of Charfield was an asset. The fact that he was so at ease at gatherings of this kind seemed to make Elly more comfortable. She joined in the conversations more than Harrison anticipated she might the first night the guests arrived. Hopefully, this party was just what she needed to bring her into the open.
If only the widowed Marchioness of Lathamton hadn’t come and spoiled everything.
“Did you attend the race in Grover’s meadow last week, Fellingsdown?” Jeremy Waverley asked. Not only was he a neighbor, as the late Earl of Lathamton had been, but he was a close friend of George’s.
Harrison pulled his thoughts back. “No, I’d already left to come here. But I heard it was an unbelievable sight.”
“That is a monumental understatement. Without a doubt, you missed the race of the year. Roger Wilkes has an Arabian he purchased in Russia he was eager to show off. Then, of course, there was Mattenworth’s prize thoroughbred. You couldn’t have found two horses more evenly matched.”
Waverley turned his gaze to where Charfield sat beside Elly. “You were there, weren’t you, Charfield?”
“I was as close to the finish line as I could get without risking being trampled when the horses finished the race. It was amazing.”
“Everyone agreed Downing’s horse was the most remarkable piece of Arabian horseflesh they’d ever seen...next to yours and Fellingsdown’s, of course.” Waverley cast a glance from Harrison to Charfield then moved his gaze to Lady Lathamton. All eyes followed him. “Do you still have my cousin’s Arabian. Or have you sold it?”
Her arm halted midway to her mouth and she slowly set her wine glass back to the table. “I still have it.”
“If I remember correctly, your husband told me his Arabian’s dame was the famous Rouboulet.” Waverley leaned closer in his chair and gave her a magnificent smile. “Would you consider parting with him if I made an offer? Since I’m Everett’s cousin, the horse would stay in the family.”
Everyone watched as Cassandra seemed to consider Waverley’s question. “Perhaps. If the offer were right. I don’t see much need to keep Everett’s horses.”
Harrison felt the stabbing of an emotion he couldn’t explain. Perhaps anger. Perhaps jealousy. “You would sell Brigado?” he heard himself ask. “He was, after all, your dear husband’s prize Arabian. I’d think it would be difficult to part with something that was his.”
Harrison watched the color drain from Cassandra’s face and knew his words had hit their mark. He wasn’t prepared, however, for the announcement she made.
“It would be a lie if I said that my late husband didn’t consider Brigado special. But I never shared his affection. Because of a bitter aftertaste left from the rejection of a former acquaintance, anything connected with horses – especially Arabians – is highly distasteful to me.”
Harrison’s blood turned an icier cold. Cassie hadn’t
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