Page 9 of A Single Obsession

He would attend a few balls and look as though he were making headway with some poor lady or other in order to keep the money flowing. And if he could not avoid it, he would marry.

For the sake of his horses.

Chapter 4

For the next few weeks, Beau hid away at his hunting lodge in Newmarket—the only property his father had left him outright. Devoting his days to Romeo, he was as close to contentment as he’d ever been. The only cloud on the horizon was his mother’s threat, and the fear of losing everything he’d worked for if he did not do as she asked.

In his more optimistic moments, he fooled himself into thinking she would soon forget he had risked his life by his reckless riding, and leave him alone.

She did not. After one blissful month, his mother requested his presence in London. She made it clear she did not believe he could mend his ways, and as he was more than half inclined to agree with her, he submitted to the inevitable.

After delaying as long as he dared, he left for the metropolis, hoping to convince her he was looking for a wife, so she would have no cause to stop his income.

Beau arrived at his lodgings in London on the first day of March. This season, he was not living under his stepfather’s roof. It had been a battle to secure this privilege, but the fear of seeming to keep her son at her beck and call had won his mother over. She cared enough about appearances to grant him this little freedom.

His mother would know he’d arrived as soon as he sent his carriage round to the Harting House mews. That he had, yet again, come when she summoned. How he hated yielding to the power she had over him.

He tamped down the wave of humiliation threatening to overwhelm him, and, in a minor act of rebellion, strode toward White’s rather than going to pay his respects to his mother. There he was certain to discover congenial company while he dined, and if he were fortunate, he would find Anthony without having to track down his whereabouts.

He was fortunate. Ant was the first person he saw as he walked through the door. Jumping up from his seat, he slapped Beau on the back in welcome and invited him to join him over a bottle of wine. As neither man was much of a letter writer, there was plenty of talking to do.

“How is your soon-to-be prizewinning colt?” Anthony asked.

“Romeo is incredible. You should see him run, Ant. It’s as if he were powered by steam. He’ll be ready to race at Newmarket in October as planned and, as long as Jem can control him, I’m certain he’ll be as magnificent a champion as his sire.”

“I’m surprised you can bear to leave him.”

Beau let out a deep sigh. “I had no choice.”

“Ah. Your mother?”

“How did you guess?”

“Bad, is it?”

Beau gave a resigned nod. “Whitlow told her about the wall we jumped in the Hampshire hunt. Of course, he exaggerated the risk we took, but Mother latched onto it like a limpet. It was excuse enough for her to demand that if I cannot curb my reckless behaviour, I should marry and provide myself with an heir before I put an end to my existence.”

“Your mother can nag, but she can’t force you to tie the knot.”

“Oh yes, she can. She’s threatening to stop my allowance if I don’t do as she asks.”

“Not that again.”

“Indeed, and unless I keep her happy, I’ll have no income to pay for my horses.”

“There must be another way. What a shame you weren’t in town in time to enter the lottery. Twenty thousand pounds would have set you up for a few years.”

Beau rolled his eyes. “Stop winding me up. You know what I think of lotteries. Such a waste. The chances of winning are so slim you might as well throw the money out the window.”

“What about Romeo? If he becomes the winner you think he is, there’ll be prize money, and in time, he could be worth a fortune as a stud horse.”

“That’s the problem. Time—or lack of it. It will take months, even years, for Romeo to produce a return, and I can’t wait that long.”

“Not if you bet on his success. As an unknown, you’d be bound to get good odds on him. I know you’re not much of a gamester, but you’re a dab hand at assessing the horses, and if you think Romeo will win, you’d be betting on a certainty.”

It was a tempting idea, and for a moment Beau caught Anthony’s excitement, but then his spirits sank again. “To solve my problems, the bet would have to be huge, and a huge bet means a colossal risk—a risk I’m not willing to take. Even if it worked, it will be some months before Romeo is ready to race, and in the meantime, there would be ongoing costs I can’t meet.”

He banged his fist down on the table. “It’s not fair. Why don’t I have control of my fortune yet? It makes me sympathise with the Prince Regent. To have waited all these years to rule, and yet, even now, to have restrictions placed upon him—at his age! It must be galling for him to know the government doesn’t trust him.”