Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

A horse gallops with his lungs, perseveres with his heart, and wins with his character.

—Frederico Tesio

E dward James Beckett kept his hands firmly on the wheel of the two-seater Oldsmobile, breathing in the fresh country air as he and his younger brother, Rupert, left the growing city of Lexington, Kentucky, farther behind. The pastoral scenery along the winding dirt roads offered a refreshing change from the pace of New York and the busy streets of Manhattan. As the splendor of magnificent horse farms unfolded on their right and left, he could see why many called this the horse capital of the world.

If only he could enjoy the drive. Unfortunately, going along with this madness his father had arranged—expecting him to marry a perfect stranger—prevented him from reveling in any of it. The sky might look clear and as blue as the chicory wildflowers blooming along the sides of the road in clumps—not a cloud in sight, but Edward imagined dark clouds looming over his future.

Rupert had enticed him into renting the Runabout from the small selection next door to the Lexington livery at the motor carriage rental. It was the twentieth century, after all. He was a city boy. And he loved modern technology. What better way to express himself than by arriving in a shiny new red motor carriage? Plus, it might annoy his father who had yet to fully embrace the new contraptions.

After a few miles, Edward overcame the challenges of navigating the steering wheel while simultaneously operating the foot pedals. He liked driving the sleek contraption. His friend, Jack Curzon, had recently acquired a similar model. He and Jack had driven through some of New York's bustling streets in the machine, laughing as they gadded about to join other friends from their set at the rooftop terrace gardens at the Waldorf Astoria, frequenting one of their favorite tea parlors, and sometimes enjoying a drive through Central Park. Jack had even permitted Edward to get behind the wheel of his new mode of transportation once.

The whole family would soon need to curtail these sorts of outings if Edward didn't follow his father's instructions. Nonetheless, the experience had given him the confidence he needed for his present excursion. Except the conveyance began to sputter, something Jack's model had not done. Then it began to backfire, making all sorts of popping noises.

"What's going on?" Rupert's eyes widened while Edward debated about going faster or slower as his brother leaned forward, gripping the dashboard. "Maybe you should give the engine more fuel."

He didn't need advice from his spoiled younger brother. "You always think you know the answers to everything. Would you for once in your life just sit back and trust me to figure things out?"

He had already begun to speed up before Rupert had opened his mouth. The automobile stopped sputtering and making popping noises.

"Whoa! What's your problem? I'm just trying to help." Rupert held his hands up.

His little brother, who wasn't so little anymore at twenty-one and now a Harvard student, crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his seat, glowering. He had no idea of the price Edward would pay if he managed to carry out their father's plan, the enormous sacrifice he was about to make to ensure Rupert and their sisters had a good start in life. It didn't help any that his brother would always remain his father's favorite. The knowledge only made Edward work harder to please Leviticus Beckett.

Regretting his outburst, he sighed. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I have a lot on my mind."

"Like what? You're going to see one of the most beautiful horse farms in the world, and you'll meet the girl of your dreams, Ver-on-i-ca." Rupert grinned.

Edward, in no mood for his shenanigans, shook his head. He clamped his mouth shut. The way his brother teased him, dragging out each syllable of her name, all because he'd caught Edward writing her name on a short letter he'd penned the morning of their departure from New York... "You really don't understand, do you?" He spat out the question. Hadn't Rupert picked up on any of his predicament during the long train ride?

"No. Why don't you just tell me?"

"We're in trouble, Rupert. Serious trouble." Edward kept both hands clenched on the steering wheel as they rounded a sharp curve in the road. Why did Kentucky have a bend on every other mile?

"What kind of trouble?"

"I don't know all the particulars, only that Father lost some money in a short sale that backfired. A lot of money."

"How much money?"

"I don't know exactly. Only that it's a large sum and it's all hush-hush so he doesn't lose his status as senior partner at Beckett, Reed & Johnston. I'm trying to figure out what's going on, but in the meantime, he's forcing me into an arranged marriage with Miss Veronica Lyndon so he can use her dowry to save the family coffers."

Rupert let out a whistle. "Wow! That is bad. I'd be steaming."

"Yes, I am steaming." Marrying a girl he hardly knew. Handing over most of her dowry to his father. Spending his future—week in and week out—in an investment office. Each mile they covered brought him closer to the dreaded reality of his situation.

He couldn't escape the office drudgery to do what he loved most of the time, but was there a way to escape a union with Miss Veronica Lyndon? He didn't know anything about the debutante except that her father bred, trained, and raced horses. She and her two younger sisters descended from Spencers and Lyndons, both of Kentucky. But these facts didn't help him see a way out.

Edward continued his rant. "And no, before you ask, there is nothing I can do except go along with Father's plan. He's threatened to cut me off if I don't comply."

"Cut you off? That is serious." At least Rupert sounded sympathetic.

"You can't speak of this to anyone, especially not any of the Lyndons. Mother doesn't know, and neither do our sisters. Father doesn't want us to worry them. He didn't want me to worry you either."

"Mum's the word. Cross my heart." Rupert made the sign of a cross over his heart. "We know Henrietta and Sophie can't keep a secret, but you can count on me."

"I could really use your support while we're here in Kentucky," Edward confessed. Perhaps after meeting Miss Lyndon, a practical way to wrangle his way out of marrying her while still rescuing the family's finances would present itself. Wrangle. A term Miss Lyndon would surely know more about than himself.

He hadn't met her except once. Had he been sixteen? Seventeen?

"I meant what I said about not telling anyone, Rupert. If you let this out of your mouth to any of the Lyndon sisters or even one of the farmhands, Veronica will likely find out and bail." Edward gave his brother a stern glance. "Then you'll have to leave Harvard and your veterinary studies behind."

"I promise. I won't say a word. But isn't there someone you like well enough to marry in New York with a bigger dowry than this Kentucky debutante?"

He shook his head. "No, not anyone I'd want to marry. Besides, there are rumors about Father's financial troubles. Mother somehow caught wind of them too. Father assured her they weren't true. So even if I knew someone in New York society I'd consider marrying, chances are, they've heard the rumors as well. You know how fast gossip travels."

"Aha! So that's why Father brought us to Kentucky." Rupert gave him a sympathetic glance. "Why didn't you tell me when I first came home from my term at Harvard or on the train the next day?"

"Don't you remember? You were already out on a date with Mirabel by the time I arrived. And no, I didn't tell Mother about you and Mirabel." Edward raised his brow as he shot a look toward his brother. "After dinner, I went straight to my studio to finish a painting. Then I went to bed. We all awoke at five o'clock in the morning to catch the train. Father spent most of the journey waiting until you wandered off to the dining car to lecture me about my duty to the family."

"I had no idea. He said we were going to the horse races and visiting his old friend, Joseph Lyndon. Just how bad can this financial crisis be, anyhow? Father has lots of other stocks and investments. Can't he sell something?"

"As I told you before, he won't say exactly what his losses are, but I'm fairly certain he's trying to sell two of our tenement buildings to stave off creditors and keep our sisters in the latest fashions. I've never seen him act like this before. I'm accustomed to his lectures about us working at Beckett & Reed a few days each week every summer, but this is much worse. He's terrified Mother will find out. I guess he had a difficult time convincing her to consider this match with Veronica."

"Why?"

Edward shrugged. "Father said she believes it's social suicide to marry someone from Kentucky. He couldn't tell her he needed the dowry, and you know how adamant she feels about the ills of gambling, despite the fact Father enjoys the races. But in view of the rumors circulating around Manhattan, she reluctantly agreed with his plan."

"Can't you get out of it? What if Miss Veronica Lyndon doesn't want to marry you?"

He tapped the steering wheel. "I've tried to think of a way out, but according to Father, there is no other way. Mother concluded that me marrying someone from Kentucky is better than me not marrying anyone at all."

Rupert snorted. "Well, you are getting old. Twenty-eight. You're almost a confirmed bachelor."

"Thanks, Rupe. That certainly bolsters my confidence." Edward rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of Mother, when we had tea right after I got home, she mentioned she wants you to marry that daughter of her friend in New York, Amelia Hartford. I thought she'd given up on that idea a few years ago. She didn't mention Veronica."

"I think she's waiting to see how this visit will turn out. In any case, I'm not the slightest bit interested in Amelia Hartford." Edward shuddered at the idea of marrying the uppity debutante.

"What do you remember about Miss Veronica Lyndon?" Rupert gulped. "Gosh, I hope she's not…ugly."

While his brother roiled over with laughter, Edward shook his head and waited for the annoying display to subside. "Are you quite finished? She's not ugly. She can't be ugly. I've prayed she won't be ugly."

"That worried about it, eh?" Rupert slugged him in the arm good-naturedly.

He'd asked himself these same questions a hundred times since finding out about his father's predicament and proposed solution. What did he remember about Veronica? She'd been a pretty, shy, almost-teenager the last time he'd encountered her. Twelve or thirteen at the most. His father had mentioned she was now twenty-three.

He hit another bump in the road. Ack! They bounced up in their seats, jarring his already frayed nerves. Normally, he had nerves of steel, but the prospect of meeting Miss Lyndon had unraveled him. Dread and unanswered questions plagued him. Would she like him? Would she agree to the arrangement? What should he say when he greeted her?

Rupert changed the subject, chatting on about his hope of meeting an equine veterinarian during their visit to Kentucky, but Edward barely heard a word. He tried to ignore the fact he didn't possess the same anticipation about meeting Miss Lyndon. At least Rupert had stopped talking about his eagerness to attend the Phoenix Stakes at the Lexington Association Racetrack and his disappointment over the fact they had missed an opportunity to attend the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs in April. Edward had no desire to talk about horses, racing, or spending money they didn't have on gambling.

Rupert paused from explaining some technique concerning the birthing of foals to glance down at the note he held. Their father had gone on ahead from the hotel with Joseph Lyndon, leaving his sons to follow the directions he'd penned about how to reach the Lyndons' horse farm, Velvet Brooks.

"We're supposed to veer left at the fork in the road after the big red barn coming up on the right. You might want to slow, or we'll miss it." Rupert folded the note and relaxed.

"All right. Hang on." Edward eased up on the pedal and then sped up around the edge of another bend in the dirt road while Rupert clung to the edge of his seat.

"How long on this road?" He ought to turn around and head for the Appalachian Mountains. He knew next to nothing about farming or horses, but that didn't mean Miss Lyndon might not share some of his interests. Would she like automobiles? Would she want a ride in his rented Runabout? Who was he kidding? The daughter of a horse farmer—she'd want to talk horses.

Rupert read more of the note. "This is Cornflower Road. Velvet Brooks Farm and your lady love should be located just up ahead on the left, about a mile or so." He reached across the back of the seat and patted Edward on the shoulder, chuckling. "All I can say is, better you than me, brother. I intend to remain a bachelor for as long as possible. And if I do marry, only for love."

"Thanks. That makes it so much easier, Rupe." Edward fought down a bit of resentment at the idea of his brother being able to marry for love when he couldn't.

"You're welcome."

Edward didn't dare glance at his brother, but he knew Rupert wore a smirk or an amused grin. "I've a mind to pull over and box your ears."

"That'll make a good impression, you showing up to meet your future bride with a black eye."

"You would do well to remember I learned a thing or two at the military academy, but since I see the sign to Velvet Brooks up ahead, I'm going to let that last remark pass. But just because Father dotes on you, don't think you can get away with tweaking my nose, little brother." It briefly crossed his mind to push Rupert out of the Runabout and leave him behind, if only to teach him a good lesson.

In truth, he needed his brother by his side, today of all days. Who else would entertain Miss Lyndon's sisters while he attempted to get to know her?

"It's not my fault I'm more likeable than you."

Edward's jaws clenched. "Surely, you jest."

"Truth is truth, brother."

Edward reached out to slug him while keeping one hand on the wheel. When Rupert ducked, Edward missed slugging him by an inch, but he had to keep his eyes on the road. The farm came into view, stealing his breath away for a second. If he didn't regret and despise the situation so much, he could see himself painting the lush green meadows.

"Hey!" Rupe pointed to the lane lined with perfectly symmetrical sugar maples. "Watch where you're going. There's the drive."

Edward tossed his brother an evil grin as he swerved into the lane leading to a whitewashed, two-story house, making sure Rupert had to hang on if he wanted to remain in the Runabout. "Keep it up, little brother. You're one swerve away from eating dirt."

Rupert clung to the dashboard and his seat. "Fine. Fine, you win! Just get us there in one piece, would you? Can we call a truce, and can you drop the ‘little brother' remarks?"

Had Rupert finally finished heckling him? "Fine. Since we're nearly there."

Movement on his left caught Edward's attention as they progressed up the drive.

A woman riding a chestnut stallion raced toward the main house, cutting across the lawn at a remarkable speed, her white scarf trailing behind her hat in the wind. A blaze of purple skirts and white petticoats, she leaned low, stretching across the horse's mane with the expertise one might expect of a trained jockey. She didn't ride sidesaddle, defying the convention and the dictates of society as she flew along over lush bluegrass astride a glorious stallion.

Rupert sat up straighter in his seat. "See if this machine can beat her horse to the house."

"I'm guessing it can." Edward shrugged, then pressed the pedal to the floor. "Why not?" He hadn't seen anyone in front of the house to lecture them—or her.

He cast his gaze on the lady racing across Velvet Brook Farms at an alarming speed while he pushed the Oldsmobile to its maximum capacity. He hadn't seen a horse run so fast. The fellow they'd rented the conveyance from had warned him the auto could only reach up to twenty miles per hour, and when they sped up, the dark-haired beauty on the horse had to be riding nearly double their speed.

Within seconds, she—whoever she was—and her stallion, surpassed them, reaching the front porch before the automobile finished sputtering along to the end of the lane.

Rupert let out a low whistle. "I guess technology has a way to go. She's quite a rider, and that horse!"

Edward turned the automobile to their right and parked beside the terrace where the lady, still astride, offered her horse the reward of patting and sweet words. Before he had a chance to respond to his brother's remark, the machine backfired.

The horse reared up and neighed. Edward, fumbling to turn the engine off, watched in horror as the woman struggled to keep her seat. What had he done?