Page 66 of A Single Obsession

“My lord?”

Beau released his hold with a heavy sigh. “What the blazes do you mean by attacking me like that?”

“I thought you were one of those men back again. They took Romeo, but not without a fight. He kicked one of them hard.”

“It must have been his scream I heard.”

Fortunately, Jem did not ask how Beau was close enough to hear the cry.

“Pa heard a noise and woke me. We were down here in a trice and went for the two men. They were taking Romeo out of his stall. One clouted me over the head with a pot or something. When I came to my senses, I saw someone leaning over my father. I thought it must be the man who’d milled me down.”

His groom dropped his gaze. “I’m really sorry, my lord.”

“And while we were busy fighting, they’ve got clean away.”

Jem jerked his head up. “You don’t know that. Take Jet and go after them. They can’t have gone far.”

“If you think I’m going to risk my stallion taking him out on a wild goose chase, think again. Despite the moonlight, it’s too dangerous to ride across the fields. Even if we knew which direction they’d taken. Which we don’t. The only thing we know is they won’t have gone by road. Too easy to track.”

Quincey stirred, and Beau stretched out his hand to help him up. He brushed himself down, but did not seem to have suffered any lasting damage.

Beau turned to Jem. “How’s your arm? You’re lucky I didn’t break it. You fight like a mad dog.”

“Actually, not so lucky. I think it is broken.”

Beau’s eyes had grown accustomed to the gloomy light, and he could see for himself that one of Jem’s arms hung loosely at his side.

“Oh no. You poor fellow. Sorry. How typical of me to injure the wrong man.”

“Don’t blame yourself, my lord. It was my mistake.”

Now the fight was over, the full horror of what had happened hit Beau, and he sunk down heavily on a bale of straw as if he had been shoved.

“Oh, Jem. What am I going to do? I’ve no horse and no jockey and a race in a fortnight’s time that I desperately need to win.”

He rested his head in his hands and sat, motionless, filled with despair, whilst Quincey and Jem stood, sheepishly looking on, not liking to leave him, but not wanting to interrupt the brooding silence.

He’d been so sure Romeo would win, but there would be no glittering success for his beauty. No prize money. Even if he got his colt back, his jockey was injured. Finding another with Jem’s natural skill would be impossible at such short notice.

If he had won that race, Beau would not have needed to marry for the money.

Now he had lost everything. It had been a last cry for independence from his mother—and he had failed.

He cringed at the thought of Eliza’s disapproval. He’d assured her that betting on someone’s skill was not the same as gambling, but he was wrong. There was more to winning a horserace than he had assumed.

He’d taken a gamble and lost.

Beau let out a deep sigh. What in heaven’s name was he going to do? The question went round and round inside his head, but no miraculous alternative presented itself. The answer was always the same.

To save his horses, he must fall in with his mother’s plans. He would be obliged to offer for Eliza.

And if she ever found out about the bet, she would think he’d married her because he had no choice. She’d never believe he was marrying her because he wanted to.

The truth hit Beau with the force of a mail coach. He held his breath for a long moment and then let it out in a whoosh.

He wanted to marry Eliza. Sweet, trusting Eliza.

It was weeks since he’d decided he would rather wed her than anyone else. She was comfortable to be with. He liked how she dimpled when she smiled, and the manner in which her eyes twinkled at him when she was begging him to share a joke. That she shared his love of horses and rode more proficiently than any other woman of his acquaintance. How she relied on him to protect her from his mother. The way she believed in him.