“Well, I shall. Current scones are my very favorite, and we have some lovely clotted cream and my very own raspberry jam from my delightful garden.”
There was a knock at the door and Willoughby reappeared.
“Your Grace, Mr. George Edgerton has called upon you. Are you in to him?”
Thomas seemed relieved to discontinue his present conversation. “Most certainly. Show him into the library and I shall join him shortly. And see if he would like some tea.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Grandmamma, we can continue our conversation later,” he said draining his teacup. “I should very much like to see my dear friend.”
“As you like,” she said. He turned to leave, but she stopped him with, “But be careful, Thomas. I really think you need to spend some time with the estate books. And if necessary, you might want to have a word with the solicitors and your banker.”
Thomas smiled, “As always, I shall keep your generous and wise advice in mind.”
* * *
Thomas bounded down the stairway to the library on the ground floor. He burst in and found his friend, George, examining a sheathed sword hanging on the wall.
“It was my father’s,” Thomas said. “Battle of Waterloo. The day he, unfortunately, lost his life.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me that—about fifteen times now,” George said turning to greet his friend with a wicked smile.
George was only a little younger than Thomas. Slight of build, but wiry, with a wide face, sandy hair, and blue eyes, George and Thomas had been friends since they were children. George’s father’s estate abutted Pemberton, and their families had been cordially connected for as long as Thomas could remember.
“What brings you to Pemberton today, old friend,” Thomas asked going over and clasping George by the shoulder.
“Father wanted me to ask you about the racing mare you were thinking of selling. He might be interested.”
Thomas laughed. “Oh, might he? And what is he proposing to pay me for her?”
George rubbed his stubbled chin. “Well, that depends…”
“On what?”
“Well, what can she do?”
“She’s come in second at Newmarket twice. She took the Oaks blue ribbon last year and is favored at St. Ledger in the spring.” Thomas smiled. “But then, you and your father probably know that, am I right?”
George squinched his face and seemed to play dumb. “I would not know. And Father just wanted me to ask casually.”
“Then he isnotseriously interested?”
“Wouldn’t say that… But… he was thinking three hundred might be a fair offer and hemightbe interested at that price.”
Thomas gave a hoot of laughter. “Three hundred? That would be just about what it costs to stable her. It is clear to me he really isnotseriously interested.”
“Well, hold on now, old friend. He said hemightjust go to five under the right circumstances.”
“And what would those circumstances be?” Thomas asked, loving the bargaining.
George rubbed his chin again and feigned deep thought. “Well, it would depend on how she does at Epson.”
Thomas stood resolute. “I could not see letting her go for less than a thousand.”
“Oh…”
“And if she does well at Epson, the price goes to fifteen hundred. So, if your father is serious, he had better act fast. Epson is coming up before you know it.”
