stories I have ever heard, and our grandfather was not the kindly sort himself.”
“But the Duke of Bendas was ten times worse. To actually wish your grandson dead? That was hideous.” Cecilia shook her head. “But the good part of the story is that Destry became a truly skilled horseman. It’s one place where he knows he excels and does not have to continually prove himself.”
“That’s true enough. Lord Jess says he has won a small fortune wagering with people who do not know of his skill.”
Distracted, Cecilia held up a finger. “You will wager on me, Beatrice. It is your duty as a sister.”
“Yes, of course.” They were going to invite everyone to wager? That was just one more element added to the most nonsensical plan Beatrice had ever heard. “But, Ceci, riding is one thing he does take pride in. He does not need to win the race to improve the way he sees himself.”
“Of course not, but I need to prove to him that his height and wealth are not important and that his ability to ride is. And I will be so gracious in defeat that it will be all the proof he needs.”
Beatrice tried without success to recall another time when her sister had been so inclined to stage-manage an event. Which was a good thing as this event made so little sense. “Cecilia, playing a game like that is not a good way to start a courtship.”
“Who has said anything about a courtship?” She looked surprised.
“He has. At least a dozen times to whoever will listen.” That was an exaggeration but it was obvious to anyone with eyes.
“This is no more than a flirtation and it is very important for me to leave here on good terms with anyone that I will meet in London.”
“So his height and his wealth are not important to you but his title is. And his influence and whoever he can introduce you to.”
“You make me sound mercenary.” Ceci looked genuinely offended.
“Not so much mercenary as like every other girl in society who is trying to make a match.”
“Beatrice, take that back.” Annoyance pushed aside hurt feelings. “I am trying not to ruin our chances at having a successful Season and finding a match that suits us perfectly. Someone like Lord Destry but without a title.”
That’s revealing, Beatrice thought. Cecilia just as much as admitted she would want Destry if it were not for his title. The horse race made a tad more sense now. “For one thing, Ceci, I do not need to find a match.” Beatrice walked around the room. I am doing this for you. “And for another, what do you think the chances are that we will be in the same social circle as the daughters of dukes or a marquis? It’s not as though we will be presented at court or be given vouchers to Almack’s.”
“I think there is a very good chance we will be at some of the same outings as Destry and Lord Crenshaw and Katherine Wilson. They are friends of ours now and surely we will be included.”
Their conversation had moved a long way away from the horse race. Beatrice wanted to change the subject—talking about their Season would only upset her sister. It was an event that was still months away and very much an unknown.
“When we are in London and the invitations arrive we will know the truth of the matter, Ceci, but for now I think we should talk to Darwell and see what has upset her.”
“Darwell is upset? Oh, I hadn’t noticed. But yes, we must see what’s wrong,” Cecilia agreed. She closed the space between them. “Beatrice, I am sorry you think the race is a stupid idea, but I am sure it will be just the thing Destry and I need to be comfortable with each other.”
So that was what Cecilia thought this was about. Feeling comfortable with Destry. Ending the tension that had her feeling so uncomfortable when she was with him. All right, she could meet her sister halfway on this. “So you think racing with him will make you two friends so that when you meet in London all will be fine between you?”
“Exactly,” Cecilia said with a smile that showed she and her sister shared a perfect understanding.
Yes, it was an incredibly stupid plan, Beatrice thought, but kept it to herself. She wondered what had prompted Destry to agree and then decided his reasons were probably just as half-witted.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“I