Not My Idea (A Gentleman of Misfortune Book One (Rough Draft))

Chapter Seventeen

Because Father didn't demand an explanation behind my proposed plan of moving to France, I guessed that he had not been told. A part of me dreaded the time when he would, due to his already strong dislike for my traveling. I did not doubt that the news, coupled with the fact that I was no longer courting Phoebe and thus would not be marrying her, would infuriate him.

For the moment, it was pleasant to be in his good favor. He could not have been more pleased with my actions to fix the Millers' roof. Besides his condemnation on the failure to locate the highwayman, it was all he wished to speak of at dinner. Apparently, when he rode around the estate, the Millers had praised me to the sky.

He didn't seem to hear Rosamund's snide comments on the subject. I was surprised and suspicious when my sister-in-law failed to enlighten him on my 'disagreeableness.' This was just the sort of thing I had expected her to use to her advantage, namely casting me in a bad light.

Philippa refused to meet my gaze all evening. Miles glowered at me with unconcealed anger matched only by George's irritation. Strange to have only Father in charity with me.

There was nothing to keep me from going to my bed early that night, eager to escape the tense atmosphere of my family. In the privacy of my room, I discovered the skin around Skriven's stitches was red and irritated. Resolving to ask Mama discreetly about a possible poultice to keep infection at bay, I went to my bed for the night.

Nerves woke me just after dawn. My sleep had been fitful all night, and I felt barely rested. With my arm even sorer than the day before, I dressed and walked downstairs. I disturbed one of the maids making up the fire in the hall, while a footman scurried through the green baize door. I passed the dining room and went out to the garden.

Dew glistened on the grass and dampened my boots as I walked. The smell of wet dirt and spring flowers filled the air. Early birds chirped in the trees with a few taking flight when I drew too close to their perches.

As I took it all in, I caught sight of Geoff riding towards the stables. The groom's worn face held a grimness I had never seen before. Abandoning my quest for peace, I changed my course and quickened my steps.

"You went out earlier than I expected," I said as I approached where Geoff had engaged a younger groom in conversation. At Geoff's nod, the other man hurried off. Curious, I asked, "Was the course clear?"

"It was not," Geoff said bluntly. In his hands was a length of rope. "I found two holes placed in front of the gates you and Mr. Ward will jump. And a line across the road in front of Oakcrest."

Worse than I had expected.

"I'm sending Jim and Bobby to walk the course again. They'll fill in the holes and make sure no more mischief is done as I assume you cannot be persuaded to call off the race."

Sighing, I shook my head. "Thank you, Geoff."

"An opponent who cheats is not an honorable man."

I reached out and patted Geoff's shoulder. "I cannot prove it, but I am certain Mr. Ward would not stoop so low to win a friendly race. In fact, I suspect it to be the same man behind the hole that felled Mama."

Lamotte had already displayed antagonism towards Ward and me. I did not doubt he was willing to go to any length to keep us from interfering with what he saw as his affair.

"I will warn Ward, and we will both ride with care, I am sure."

Geoff didn't look any less worried, but he gave a brief nod. He hurried on his way, and I returned to the garden. The hour I spent pacing there did nothing to calm my mind. I finally gave up the effort and went into breakfast.