Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) by Margo Maguire Page B

stopped and removed her arm from his grasp. “Beckworth . . . you and I are no longer affianced. Our only relationship is through my annuity.”
    “A rather significant relationship.”
    “One that does not need to be conducted in person.”
    “Some things are better done face to face.” He took a loose wisp of her hair between his fingers and heard her sharp intake of breath. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her, make her believe in him.
    But no words were going to convince her of his loyalty, his faithfulness. She had to learn to trust him. He released her and drew her back toward their party. “Perhaps your aunt can be convinced to accompany us to Hermon’s Farm tomorrow.”
    He’d have preferred to take Ellie to the horse breeder alone, but that suggestion was beyond the pale. She would never agree to it, nor would it be proper. But hell if he was going to let her run to Baron Stillwater for assistance in this. Andrew needed more than just a few stolen moments together to win her back.
    He knew he needed more of a strategy than just spending time with her. He needed her to understand who he was – that he was not a replica of her father.
    “Ah, Your Grace, Miss Easton,” Lord Stillwater said when they rejoined the party. “We were just discussing the Reading Stakes. Do you have a favorite?”
    Andrew gave a quick nod. “I do. Sir Richard for certain.” He knew all the horses that were running and which was the long shot. And if no one had tampered with the jockeys or the horses as he had once seen Weatherby do, Andrew stood to make a great deal of blunt on his choices. He intended to add his winnings to Eleanor’s annuity where they would grow nicely.
    The picnic ended in the early afternoon, and Andrew returned to Primrose Manor with Eleanor and her aunt. He felt the chill she projected, but he was undeterred, nonetheless.
    His secretary, Jasper Carrick, had arrived and was waiting for him with news and a stack of correspondence when they got back to the manor. Andrew had no choice but to excuse himself and go with Carrick into Viscount Derington’s study, where he sat down at the desk and went over each missive in turn.
    He looked up from the first letter and addressed Carrick in shock. “Lord Hollingbrook writes that Nighcroft has been bribed to vote against us. Why?”
    Carrick nodded. “We were sure Lord Nighcroft was in our camp, but our man heard him at Tattersall’s two days ago telling someone that his vote was secured. For the opposition.”
    “Damn all. To whom was Nighcroft speaking?”
    “Our informant couldn’t see who it was.”
    “Likely an agent of whoever was doing the bribing.”
    Carrick gave a quick shake of his head. “No, Your Grace, he thinks it was Lord Weatherby.”
    “Bloody hell.” He wouldn’t put it past Weatherby to resort to bribery. Again.
    Two years ago, Andrew had witnessed the earl bribing a jockey at a major race and had reported him to the racing authorities. Weatherby had denied the charge, of course, but the jockey had had no choice but to admit it, not after two of his peers corroborated Andrew’s accusation. As a result, Weatherby had been banned from all official races for eighteen months, and of course he had not forgotten the incident. He’d had exacted his revenge on Andrew by lying to Eleanor on the eve of their wedding and sending her fleeing to Italy.
    “Nighcroft is in financial straits,” Carrick said. “No doubt he would welcome a monetary ‘gift’ from Weatherby for his vote.”
    “By all accounts, Weatherby has deep pockets,” Andrew said. “He could be quite generous if it suited him.”
    “At first we considered the possibility that Mr. Squeers himself might have been the man seen with Nighcroft at Tattersall’s,” Carrick continued, “but the man in question was too short in stature to be the mill owner.”
    Clive Squeers was a powerful mill owner with properties near Lancashire and Manchester. Andrew had toured the man’s mills