Playing To Win

“No,” she said in amazement, as though the lack of them had only just occurred to her. “No one I was allowed to play with. I have a very bad habit of talking to horses as though they can understand me. I have tried not to, but it’s no use.”

Tony stared at her a moment longer, then shook his head. “I had no idea they meant so much to you. But they are only horses.”

“Once something belongs to me, I can never let go of it. I can’t bear not knowing what will happen to it.”

“Fortunate that I do not have your sensitive nature. I shall have to let go of a good few things, if we are to keep this house,” he said, rising and looking around him.

“Tony, why didn’t you tell me?” She walked toward him, wondering if she should offer to help with money. She had plenty of her own that he apparently did not even know about. But she did not want to make him angry again.

“It’s not your worry.”

This upset Sera even more, for if he really regarded her as his wife he might share his troubles with her.

“Some of the servants will have to go, too—at least one groom.”

Her eyes flew to his face.

“No, not your precious Chadwick. The man’s too competent.”

“Is there no other way?”

“We could sell the house, but then we wouldn’t need two upstairs maids.”

“This would be a very bad time for your mother to give this place up.”

“We still have Oak Park. I can’t sell it, anyway.”

“Couldn’t you just lease this house? We could live somewhere else for a few years.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I have got a smaller house, south of Saint James’s. It never brought much rent, it’s in such an unfashionable neighborhood—near Tothill Fields.”

“Has it got a stable?”

“Actually, it does. It’s on Marsham Street, just off Horseferry Road.”

“I like it better and better,” Sera said with a smile.

“There would be no grand parties. There’s no ballroom.”

“We should not be entertaining much during the mourning period, anyway. Has it got space for my books?”

“I imagine,” Tony replied in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a collector. I didn’t like to say anything about it, since the library at Oak Park is full and there is no room for a library here.”

“Just how many books have you got?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I should say there could not be more than seven or eight...hundred.” Sera peeked at him to see what effect this news would have on Tony.

He stood openmouthed for a moment.

“I did warn you I am bookish.”

“I know, but really! I thought that was just an expression.” Suddenly he smiled, and he had to bite his lip not to laugh at Sera’s hopeful look. “I don’t suppose there is anything else I should know about you. You haven’t got an art collection for me to house, or some more livestock?”

“No, I think— Well, there is McDuff.”

“Don’t tell me—an aged family retainer.”

“Some such thing. You may not like him, but Lady Jane and he do not get along, so I thought perhaps...”

“When is he coming?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. He can help us pack.”

“I don’t think he will be much use at that, but I shall contrive to keep him out of the way.”

“No doubt.”

* * *

Sera and Marie were in her dressing room, repacking her gayer clothes. It was tiring, having just packed and unpacked, to be going through it again. “I should have told you not to bother unpacking these. I can only wear grays and mauves for a time, anyway,” Sera said, letting her frayed temper show.

“They get too crushed if they are not hung,” said Marie as she carefully laid a pink silk between layers of silver paper.

“Nevertheless, these two trunks will go directly to the attic in Marsham Street. I don’t need them.”

Marie was protesting this decision in excited French when there was a growl, a muffled oath and angry yapping from the bedroom. Sera stepped back in to see Tony brush McDuff off the settee with enough force to make the little dog yelp when he landed.

“McDuff!” The animal limped to her, pathetically holding up an injured paw.

“Why didn’t you tell me McDuff is a lapdog?” Tony was red in the face and wrapping his handkerchief around his hand.

“I didn’t really know how you would take it,” Sera said, picking up her old pet.

“Your bedroom is no place for him. If you want to keep him, send him to the kitchen.”

A flush rose to Sera’s cheeks. “I don’t see what difference it makes. You never come in here anyway!”

Marie went back into the dressing room, and Sera cursed herself for saying something so stupid.

Tony grew quite white in the face, and she really did fear him for a moment, but he only slammed the door on his way out.

It was the worst thing she could possibly have said, and she regretted it as soon as her temper cooled. She should have known McDuff well enough to know he was only faking an injury. Like Armand, who had given her the dog, McDuff was a consummate actor.

Sera had never previously been aware of having a temper, but then, no one had ever provoked her into losing it before. At moments like this, she regretted ever marrying Tony, but then he did something unexpectedly nice for her. It was never a verbal apology, but she could not resist his efforts at peacemaking. When he wasn’t angry, he looked so much like he expected her to be still shrewish, it was laughable. She wondered where they were drifting—possibly into one of those cool and polite relationships that were more like business deals than marriages. Perhaps that was all Tony had ever wanted.