Evan had no desire to marry. His circumstances were too new, too foreign. Not to mention the fact that he far too often woke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and reliving a battle he couldn’t remember. Wouldn’t that just endear him to a wife? She’d have him committed to an asylum before the ink was dry on the marriage license. He needed to keep all of that private until he sorted it out. Daily life amongst the aristocracy was proving challenge enough. Pursuing a wife would only add to his problems. Reasoning that the best way to defend himself against Marcus’s suggestions was to go on the offensive, he said, “What about you? You’re an eligible bachelor. Aren’t you searching for the perfect mate?”
Marcus grinned. “Ah, that’s where I have the advantage over you. I’m a mere second son. As such, I have the connections ladies like but not the title or fortune that makes them so eager. I can afford to take my time, look around. No pressure since I have an elder brother who is already married. That’s why I went into the military for a time. I am the spare and thus not as valuable as the heir, in my parents’ estimation. Anyway, I find life as a bachelor quite interesting.” He looked out the carriage window.
Evan watched him, sensing the hurt beneath the light tone. What kind of culture had he been thrust into where any child not an eldest male was surplus to requirements?
The carriage finally rolled to a stop near Hyde Park Corner, and they disembarked. Marcus waved to several men he knew as they entered a high-ceilinged building. “Tattersall’s. Biggest blood-stock auctioneer firm in England. Perhaps the world. The best of the best falls under the gavel here.”
Evan found the auction fascinating. As a true horse lover, he enjoyed seeing the animals, and the witty and occasionally barbed interactions of the auctioneer with the bidders had him laughing and wincing by turns.
Coach horses, racehorses, saddle horses, broodmares, weanlings, stallions, the variety was amazing. But he wasn’t ready to bid, Marcus’s wishes notwithstanding. He’d never bought a horse of his own before, though he’d learned to ride as a boy, and he wanted to take the time to make the right choice.
“Let’s go round the barns and get a better look at what’s coming up. Maybe you’ll find something there that catches your eye.” Marcus led him away from the ring. Several onlookers slapped Marcus on the back, greeting him with smiles and handshakes.
“Is there anyone you don’t know?” Evan asked as they left the building through the rear, emerging into the shed rows. Grooms walked horses for prospective buyers, who felt equine legs, peered into equine mouths, and looked into equine eyes.
“London society really isn’t all that large when it comes right down to it. Maybe three hundred families? Anything catch your fancy?” Marcus studied a bay with white socks as it strode by.
“Plenty, but probably all out of my price range.” Evan sidestepped a red-faced large man.
“You, boy, make sure you keep him moving in the ring. Let everyone get a good look,” the man shouted as he hurried down the cobblestones.
Marcus grimaced. “Crack McGibbons. Be careful buying one of his horses. He knows every trick in the book to get them looking fine for the auction, but the minute you get one home, its faults all show up.” He kept his voice low, and Evan nodded.
“Caveat emptor.”
“Indeed. Where did you learn Latin?”
“My father’s a minister, and he was the local schoolmaster as well. Latin, Greek, logic, and rhetoric were my meat and bread as a youngster. Speaking of my father, I need to send him a letter. He won’t believe what’s happened.” Evan pulled a face, knowing he should’ve written sooner.
“Will he be pleased?” Something down at the end of the row caught Marcus’s attention, and they started that way.
“Hard to say. He’s never been one who cared much about social classes. Everyone is the same in God’s eyes, so they’re the same in Reverend Eldridge’s too. What my mother will make of it, I have no idea.” They reached the far end of the barn row, and Evan stopped. Before him, in a round pen, a dozen horses stood, heads down, eyes dull. “What’s this?”
Marcus gripped the top rail with both hands. “Army horses. Well, former army horses. When the military is done with them, some wind up here.”
Evan went still. The looks in their eyes reminded him of his fellow patients in the hospital. Used up and cast aside by the army, futures uncertain. Behind him a door slammed, and he jumped, every muscle tense. And he wasn’t alone. One of the horses, a chestnut, jerked his head up, white showing around his eyes as he crowded against the fence.
I understand, boy.
“What will happen to them?” He feared he already knew the answer.
“Cabbies buy them cheap. Farmers too. Those that don’t sell wind up at the knacker’s yard.” Marcus followed the progress of a leggy colt toward the sales ring. “Most stay on the Continent, but those that do return are sold in an effort by the army to recoup some of their investment money.”
Not much of a reward for faithful service, for all the danger they had lived through, the lives they had saved by being brave, strong, fleet, and loyal.
Surely someone should do something? But what?
“I say, if it isn’t the new earl.” Viscount Fitzroy sauntered up, Percival Seaton in his wake. “What are you doing back here with these nags? Or is that all you can afford? I heard your title didn’t come with much money. I suppose you’ll have to find some well-heeled debutante eager to be a countess in order to fill the coffers, eh?” He looked Evan over from his head to his boots. “Still wearing the uniform, I see.”
Percival turned his cane in his hands, his face pink with cold. He nodded to Evan. “Eldridge.”
“It’s Whitelock now,” Marcus reminded him. “We’ve seen all we need to here for the time being. We were just heading over to Gentleman Jack’s. Perhaps you’d care to join us?”
Evan quelled a questioning look. From what he had ascertained, Marcus had little time for Fitzroy or Percival Seaton. Now he wanted their company? And who was Gentleman Jack?
“Not today, my good man. We’ve got an appointment, don’t we, Seaton?” Fitzroy grinned. “Thought we might check out what’s going on over in King’s Place to see the new merchandise. Maybe you’d like to skip Jack’s and come with us? You can work off some steam either way.” He elbowed Marcus, whose mouth tightened.
“No, thank you.”
Evan looked from Fitzroy to Marcus, unsure of what was passing between them, but sensing it wasn’t friendly, invitations aside.
“Your loss, old boy.” Fitzroy walked away but turned back after a few steps. “Just a friendly warning, Eldr—I mean Whitelock. Don’t get any silly ideas about the Seaton girl. I noticed the attention you were paying her last week at her presentation. I’m considering a move in that direction myself, and it would be bad manners for you to upset those plans.”
Percival snorted. “Nothing to worry about there. My father would never consider someone like him for Diana. He’d as soon marry her off to one of these spavined horses. Though that’s about all she deserves. She’s cost him a packet with her come-out and all. He’ll be looking to recoup his losses when he brokers a match for her. You’ll have to move fast, Fitz. He’s lining up a couple of his cronies into a bit of a bidding war, last I heard.”