Page 87 of A Single Obsession

Freedom.

Chapter 38

Beau had not placed a bet all day. The racecourse had lost its thrill. Why had he bothered to come to Epsom at all? It was not as if he had a horse competing.

Because Eliza had insisted. It would have been gratifying she had encouraged him to attend if she hadn’t left him feeling she was eager to be rid of him. That she scorned the races. That she held him in contempt.

Beau would rather be somewhere—anywhere—else. He would have to face Cunningham eventually, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say to him. He had delayed withdrawing from the contest until the last moment, dreading the older man’s scorn, but he would have to do it tomorrow.

The shame of having to withdraw, even for a valid reason, would hang over him for months. Maybe years. Cunningham would make sure of that. He would drop subtle comments amongst their contemporaries, hinting how unfortunate it was that Beau’s horse had been stolen, so Majesty could not prove his superiority.

Beau’s hopes for his stud would be scuppered from the start, and his reputation would take years to recover.

Maybe it was just as well. If Eliza disapproved of the races, then perhaps he should give up his dream of breeding racehorses. Would that make her happy? Prove to her how important she was to him? It was a sacrifice, but it would be worth it if he won back her affection.

He woke from his reflections with a jolt when he heard himself addressed in a familiar voice.

“Finch?” he said, staring at the groom in surprise. “Why are you here?”

His thoughts flew to Eliza. A myriad of dreadful possibilities passed through his mind. “Miss Merry…is she well…has there been an accident…?”

“No, no. I bring good news, not bad. We’ve found Romeo.”

Beau’s jaw dropped open in amazement. “What? Where? How?”

“My mistress found him. She rode for the first stage of her journey to London and…um…to cut a long story short, we discovered him, quite by chance, stabled in a hamlet near Farnham.”

Beau could hardly believe it. “Farnham? But that’s only ten miles from my mother’s home.”

Finch shared Eliza’s suspicion that one of Lord Harting’s grooms might be responsible.

That made sense. Beau didn’t know why he’d never thought of it.

“It’s good of you to bring me this news in person, Finch. Thank you.”

“I’ve done more than that, my lord. Romeo is stabled at the White Hart, not far from here.”

“You mean he’s in Epsom?”

“Miss Merry insisted.”

His heart warmed to hear of Eliza’s insistence. Maybe she still cared. Just a little.

Though with Jem’s arm in a sling, he didn’t see what good it would do him. With no jockey, Romeo still couldn’t race.

“My mistress suggested I bring…um…young Robson with me. I can’t promise he’ll win for you, my lord, but I taught him to ride myself, and he’s precious good with horses and willing to try, if you’ll give him leave.”

Beau considered his options. If he forfeited, he’d get to keep Romeo, but what use would his horse be then? His position would be untenable. He would be ridiculed—called a coward. It was unthinkable.

Should he let Robson ride his prized colt? If the lad rode as well as he had on the day of the hunt, he had a chance of beating the rest of the field, even if he couldn’t outrun Majesty. Beau would probably lose his horse, but his reputation would be intact.

And what if by some miracle he won? He could prove to Eliza he wanted to marry her because he loved her and not to finance his stables. That possibility—slim though it was—made it worth the risk.

“Very well,” he said. “Let me look Romeo over, and if I think he’s in a race-worthy state, we’ll see whether Robson can claim victory on Friday.”

He followed Finch through the crowds, his head spinning, and his heart pounding with excitement. For the first time in days, he saw a glimmer of hope for the future.

When they arrived at the White Hart, the groom led him to a stall. Romeo whickered in welcome, and Beau hurried forward, burying his face in the colt’s mane.