Sophia James: The Regency Season: Convenient Marriages: Marriage Made in Money / Marriage Made in Shame

His accent marked him as an East-Ender, the music of the river in his words. A man made rich by the trade of goods and services, perhaps, for his coat was of fine cloth and his boots well fashioned. The well-appointed carriage he had alighted from was beginning to move away, a young woman staring back at them with concern upon her face, but Daniel’s interest was snared by the mention of the greys. The superb pair he had seen yesterday belonged to this unlikely fellow? They were the entire reason he was here this morning after all, just to see who might be lucky enough to procure them.

The Repository courtyard at Tattersall’s loomed, substantial pillars holding up wide verandas and housing a great number of animals and carriages.

‘Your horses aren’t on the block today?’ Daniel could see no sign of the greys and it was more usual for those lots about to go under the hammer to be on display, especially ones so fine.

‘I asked Mr Tattersall for a few days’ grace just to think about things,’ the other man returned, his cheeks yellowed, but his eyes sharp. ‘To give me time, you understand, in case I should change my direction. The prerogative of the elderly,’ he added, a wide smile showing off a set of crooked teeth.

Daniel knew he should turn and leave the man, with his roughness of speech and the impossible manners of the trading classes, but something made him stay. The sort of desperation that one perceives in the eyes of a person battling the odds, he was to think later, when all the cards had been stacked up into one long, straight and improbable line. But back then he did not have the facts of the stranger’s most singular purpose.

‘My name is Mr Robert Cameron. Timber merchant.’ No shame or hesitation in the introduction.

‘Daniel Wylde.’ He could do nothing less than offer his own name, though he did not add the title.

The other man did it for him. ‘You are the Earl of Montcliffe? I saw the insignia upon your carriage outside and Mr Tattersall himself pointed your personage out to me here last week as a man who knows his way around a horse.’

‘Indeed.’ Even with the frosty tone of the reply Cameron seemed unfazed.

‘My greys are this way, my lord. Would you do me the honour of looking them over?’

‘I am not in the market for a purchase.’ Hell and damnation, there was no untruth in that, he thought, his hands fisting in his pockets with the sort of rage he had almost become accustomed to. Noticing others looking his way, Daniel tried to soften his face.

‘But you are renowned for your knowledge of a fine buy in horseflesh and it is that I seek to be assured of. I was only hoping for the chance of an expert’s opinion.’

They had passed beneath the roof delineating the courtyard now and had wandered down into the stables proper. It was darker here and a lot less busy. When the ground unexpectedly fell away the old man tripped, Daniel’s arm steadying him before he lost balance completely.

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Cameron’s voice was quieter and the flesh beneath the finely made coat felt alarmingly thin. Life had honed his instincts and Daniel’s were on high alert. This man was not quite as he seemed and he wondered at what was hidden.

‘Here they are. Maisey and Mick. After my parents, you understand, though they will not be billed as such here. Names of high distinction fetch more in the way of coinage, I am told, and so Mr Tattersall thinks to call them after ancient Grecian gods.’

The greys were of Arabian descent, their distinctive head shapes and high-tailed carriage unmistakable. The horses were small and refined, and Daniel could have picked their lineage out easily from a thousand others.

‘Richard Tattersall is a shrewd operator so perhaps you should listen to what he says if you wish to part with them. I know my brother always paid through the nose here,’ Daniel remarked.

Gnarled fingers were held against the jibbah bulge on the horse’s forehead, and it was easy to see that there was no lack of love between the animal and its master as the horse nuzzled closer.

‘Maisie finds any change difficult.’ The catch in his voice suggested he did too.

‘Why are you selling them, then? If you bred them, you could turn a tidy profit without too much work in it. A few years and the money could be double what a sale now would garner.’

‘Time is a commodity I am a little short on, my lord.’ The reply was grave. ‘But you sound like my daughter.’

‘The woman in the carriage?’ Why the hell had he said that? He wished he might take such a question back.

‘My beautiful jewel.’

Again Daniel was shocked. In his circle it was not done to talk of progeny in such glowing terms.

‘Are you married, my lord?’ Another impertinence. Did Mr Robert Cameron always speak without thought?

‘No. Too busy saving England.’ He knew he should adopt a sterner demeanour, but the man was beguiling in his lack of protocol. The memory of a soldier he had once known came to mind. A man who had served with him and saved his life before losing his own on the high hills of Penasquedo. He shook away ennui. Of late the emotion seemed to have hitched a ride upon his shoulders, crouching over everything he said and did; a result of the problems at Montcliffe Manor probably and the cursed debts that had piled up in the years between his father’s indifference and his brother’s high-stakes gambling.

The other looked relieved at his answer.

‘A parent would do almost anything to keep a child happy, you understand?’

‘Indeed, I should imagine such a thing to be so.’

‘I would give my horses without a moment’s hesitation to a husband who had the wherewithal to make my girl smile.’

‘A generous gift.’ Where was this conversation leading? Daniel wondered, as a small seed of worry began to grow.

‘I was married myself for twelve long and happy years before my wife passed on. Well before her time too, I should say, and for a while...’ He stopped and brought out a large white kerchief to dab his face with. ‘For a while I thought to follow. The world is a lonely place to be without the love of a good woman and it was the nights that were the worst.’ Shrewdness lurked above sorrow in Robert Cameron’s eyes.

The stallion had now come over for its share of attention and Daniel had seldom seen another of its ilk; leanly muscled and compact, he was built for endurance, head turned towards him and darkly intelligent eyes watchful. If he had had the money he would have placed it down right then and there because he knew without a doubt that offspring from these two would soon be worth a small fortune on any market in the world.

‘Where did you get them?’

‘In Spain. Near Bilbao. I had heard of them and went over to look. Fell in love at first glance and brought them back three years ago.’

‘Don’t sell them cheap, then. If you hold out for your price, their worth will be increased,’ Daniel advised.

‘You wouldn’t be interested in purchasing them yourself?’

This was not said with any intention at rudeness. It was just a passing comment, a friendly gesture to a stranger. Of course Cameron would think the Montcliffe coffers full. Everybody still did.

He shook his head. If he could have raised the money, he would have bid for the pair in a trice, but that sort of life was finished and had been for a while now. He noticed a few other patrons drifting down to take a look at the greys. And then more came. However, Robert Cameron did not seem the slightest bit interested in singing the praises of his horseflesh any longer which was surprising, given the hard line he had taken just a moment before.

As the crowds thickened Daniel tipped his hat at the timber merchant and made his way out of the crush.