How to Marry a Rake by Deb Marlowe Page B

an heiress. He would do very well for
her.’
Not finished yet, she looked down her nose in Mae’s direction. ‘You might also consider Viscount Landry, Miss Halford. He’s been sniffing about the house party. He’s pockets to let and growing quite desperate. I shouldn’t think he’d object to a merchant’s daughter.’ She let loose a bitter laugh. ‘In fact, he has fifty thousand reasons not to object, does he not?’
    Her chest tight, Mae took a step closer to the odious Miss Metheny. ‘Has the viscount perhaps shown an interest in you?’
    Miss Metheny, her lips pressed tight, did not answer.
    Her sister did. ‘Indeed, no! But then Delia does not have—’
    ‘A pleasant manner? A gracious temperament?’ Straightening her spine, Mae stared at the girl who seemed so determined to be nasty. ‘Well then, the viscount will have at least fifty thousand and two reasons to prefer me over you.’
    She stepped back and looped her arm in Addy’s. ‘Come, Addy. I understand there is to be a card party tonight. Let’s go and prepare ourselves, shall we?’
    ‘Let’s,’ Addy said firmly. They stepped away. ‘I never did care for toast.’
    Stephen had been right about one thing. Every man-jack in Newmarket was still talking about Pratchett’s disappearance—and they all had a theory on what had happened to the horse, and why.
    The grooms he spoke to all suspected a rival owner had done the deed—and they were all fearful for their own four-legged charges. The black legs he encountered shared the grooms’ suspicions and went about muttering about pots and kettles and shades of black. Just to make things interesting, the owners and enthusiasts he talked with were all convinced the job was the work of a crooked leg or, even worse, a consortium of them.
    ‘It makes sense.’ Lord Toswick was morose, mourning Pratchett’s loss as a stud. Stephen had encountered the earl and his cronies along Moulton Road, mounted and heading to a cockfight at the edge of town in an effort to restore his spirits. ‘Ryeton has been very vocal about putting a stop to the cheating legs and their skullduggery. He wanted them to answer to the Jockey Club.’
    ‘If it was them, then perhaps they meant it as a warning.’ Matthew Grange, driving a smart cabriolet, accompanied the earl’s group.
    ‘I doubt it,’ Stephen said with a frown. ‘It’s not their usual mode of operation. Normally the legs allow a clear favourite to build. Once the betting is high, they
then
arrange something, a laming or a poisoning right in the last hours before the race. When the horse shows poorly or doesn’t run, they rake in a fortune. There’s no profit to be made if the horse disappears before the bets are made.’
    Toswick shrugged. ‘Perhaps Ryeton’s wife had a hand in it. She’s been giving him the devil of a time.’
    ‘I think I like her already,’ Matthew said with a grin.
    ‘That’s because you haven’t met her,’ Toswick answered with a shudder. ‘She’s a sly thing, just the sort of woman to come up with such a bizarre way to punish a man.’
    ‘Bizarre, but effective,’ retorted Matthew.
    Toswick’s horse began a restless dance. ‘Let’s be off, then. Care to come with us, Manning?’
    ‘Thank you, Toswick, but I’m still searching for a decent match up for Fincote Park.’
    ‘Very well, then.’ Impatient, the earl’s horse pranced again, setting off several other mounts. But Toswick paused. ‘You might consider fillies. My Butterfly runs a very decent trial and I hear that Halford has brought over an exceptional animal from France. You should go and have a look at her. I wouldn’t be averse to a match between them.’
    It was a very generous offer. Stephen was grateful for it, even if he did have something bigger and better in mind, thanks to Mae. Had there ever been another like her? Gad, he’d barely presented her with his dilemma, yet she’d sized up the situation and seized upon a brilliant, all-encompassing