The Pretenders Read Free Page B

cold chill struck my heart.
Surely Reeve had not gone to the moneylenders? He would not be that stupid
!
    I washed my hands and face, brushed off my dress, and was back downstairs in ten minutes. Reeve was standing beside his horses, talking with Mama and looking high-strung and tense.
    “I’m ready,” I said lightly, and let him take my hand to help me up to the high seat of the phaeton.
    As we rolled away down the country lane, Reeve was very silent, ostensibly concentrating on driving his matched pair of bays. I didn’t say anything either. He had obviously sought me out for a purpose, and from past experience I knew I was going to have to be patient until he was ready to bring it out.
    Reeve steered the phaeton away from the well-kept paths and splendid gardens of Ambersley and aimed instead toward the river, following one of the local country roads that at this season were lined with leafy trees and small grassy meadows filled with wildflowers. At last he pulled off the road and stopped the horses. We were in a small glade that was hidden from the road by a stand of graceful beech trees.
    He loosened his reins so the horses could stretch their necks and turned to look at me.
    I could hold my tongue no longer. “Whatever is the matter, Reeve?” I asked. “Did Lord Bradford refuse to cover what you owed on the Derby?”
    Dark color flushed into his cheeks. “If I live to be a hundred, Deb, I do not ever want to spend another hour such as the one I spent with Bernard after that race. He is such a clod. Do you know what he said to me? He said that race-owners were a congregation of the worst blackguards in the country mixed with the greatest fools. That is what he thinks me. A fool!”
    Reeve’s eyes were glittering dangerously, and there was a white line around his mouth.
    “Lord Bradford is a very conservative man,” I said cautiously.
    “You won’t credit this, Deb, but he seems to have no understanding that what I owe on the Derby are debts of honor.” Reeve thrust his fingers through his dark hair. “I shall be drummed out of the Jockey Club if I do not pay up on my bets, do you realize that?”
    “Of course you must pay your bets,” I said. I added carefully, “Er… exactly how much do you owe, Reeve?”
    He scowled. “I bet sixty thousand pounds on Highflyer to win. Then, of course, there is the money I borrowed from Benton for training fees. That is another ten.”
    My heart sank. Seventy thousand pounds!
    “And has Lord Bradford refused to meet your obligations?” I asked.
    “He has said that he will meet them, but he has made a stipulation.”
    For the first time he looked away from me, averting his face and staring out over the shining dappled brown backs of his standing horses.
    I looked in puzzlement at his profile, which was shaded by the overhanging canopy of leaves from the beeches. There was a single stripe of sunlight on the left shoulder of his rust-colored coat.
    “And what is this stipulation?” I prompted when it didn’t seem as if he were going to continue.
    I could see a muscle jump in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “I have to get married.”
    I was dumbfounded.
    “Married?” I echoed. ”But what does getting married have to do with your debts?”
    He didn’t answer immediately, and the truth slowly dawned on me. “Oh, I see. He has found you an heiress.”
    Reeve’s reply was bitter. “I don’t need an heiress, Deb. Even Bernard knows that.” He turned around to look at me directly once again. “It seems that my esteemed cousin and trustee is a great believer in the set-fling effect of matrimony on a man. He has hopes that if I take a wife, and begin to set up my nursery, then my wildness will disappear. In fact, he has promised to give me access to half of my money when I marry and the other half if I can maintain what he calls a “decent life’ for a year.”
    “Good heavens,” I said faintly. ”Can he do that? I thought your father’s will stipulated