The Reluctant Debutante (12 page)

He captured her mouth with his as one hand began to creep down her body.

Ginger wrapped her hand around her parasol and pushed its pointed tip into his ribs with all the force she could muster. At the same time, she bit into his lower lip.

Simultaneously, his mouth and his ribs exploded in pain as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Blood spurted over his fine white linen shirt.

“What have you done? I was just trying to have some fun.”

Ginger scrambled to her feet. “Yes, I know the kind of
fun
you have in mind, Mr. Douglas. Your form of seduction comes very close to rape. How do you think my father would react if I tell him what you’re trying to do? Do you think he’d open his arms, and his bank, to you and welcome you into the family? I’m sorry for your plight, but I won’t be your way out of your financial problems. Nor will my father, I’m sure. He did not have money handed to him, which is what you’re anticipating.”

Ginger’s eyes glimmered in anger as she continued. “Papa worked hard to get where he is today, and he expects each member of our family to work hard as well. So, you see, Mr. Douglas, you’d never fit into the Fitzpatrick household. You don’t know what an honest day’s labor is.”

A picture of Joseph and his family, working on their ranch, training and breaking horses, flashed through her mind.
Joseph knows what an honest day’s labor is, though
, she thought.

Richard tried once again to grab her in a last futile effort to overwhelm her. But, she had grown up with brothers and knew the best place to aim to do the most harm. She raised her knee and hit him squarely in his crotch. Richard crumpled to the ground, grabbing his inflamed testicles and moaning in agony.

Ginger chuckled. “Men. You’re all cry babies.”

She helped him get to his feet. She felt only a tiny bit sorry for inflicting such pain on him.

“If you can ever find a woman who considers herself lucky just to have you, and she can afford you, you can continue on with your dissolute lifestyle. But this is America, not England. People don’t mind working and getting their hands dirty, if that’s what’s needed to get ahead. That attitude enabled us Americans to beat the pants off you British during the Revolutionary War, and it’s why we’re here this weekend, celebrating our independence from louts such as yourself!

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll help you back to the house where you can take care of your nasty cut lip. And maybe get an ice pack to soothe the, ahem, other parts of your body that are hurting. And, if I were you, I’d come up with a really good story about how it happened. You don’t want everyone to know it was the result of a failed attempt at lovemaking.”

Richard leaned on her and Ginger laughed as they walked toward the house. On the way back, Ginger noticed he had pieces of boxwood hanging from the back of his suit. She playfully poked him with her parasol, in an attempt to free the clippings from the cloth. When the parasol failed to dislodge them, she brushed his back to clear all signs of debris. Soon they were laughing together, as Richard returned the favor and picked some boxwood clippings from her hair. Ginger was almost sorry for Richard and his attempts to land an heiress. It must be a horrible position to be in, to either marry for money or be forever dependent on the benevolence of an older brother.

• • •

William Davenport had been attempting to feed Joseph’s horse moldy hay, in the hopes of making the horse sick, when Joseph crept up behind him. William swore the man appeared from nowhere — he hadn’t noticed his moccasined entrance. Joseph said nothing, he simply emptied the crib of the bad hay and glared at William.

Foiled in his attempt to put Midnight off his game tomorrow, William backed away from Joseph and then barreled out of the stable. He ran straight into Ginger and Richard, nearly knocking Ginger off her feet. His stormy eyes took in the scene, and already angry, he turned a malicious gaze toward Richard.

“So, have you finally succeeded in compromising Miss Fitzpatrick, eh, Douglas? When you first boasted several weeks ago that you would be the one to take her, I thought she’d see through you. Yet, here you are, still in my way. And from the looks of it, you two have been rolling around in the grass.”

“Officer Davenport, please! Mr. Douglas has not compromised me. How dare you even think such a thing?”

“Unlike you, William, I don’t need to compromise Miss Fitzpatrick in order to win her hand. I don’t see a whole lot of competition here,” Richard taunted.

William bristled. “That’s it, man. I’ve taken one too many of your fancy English slurs. Put up your hands and let’s fight like men.”

The two men circled each other, fists raised. They bobbed and weaved, each gauging the other, yet neither took a punch. Ginger thought it was more posturing than anything. And, if they were trying to impress her, they needn’t bother. Shaking her head in exasperation, she stepped between them and raised her own hands, just as William let go an upper right, aimed at Richard’s jaw. Richard ducked out of the way, and the blow landed on Ginger’s shoulder, knocking her off her feet. Richard gasped as Ginger fell to the ground, absorbing the blow meant for him.

When William struck Ginger and she fell, Joseph rushed at them, fists clenched. He was at her side in a heartbeat, and helped her to her feet.

“Are you hurt? Is your shoulder all right?” Joseph asked.

“I’m so sorry,” Richard said.

“It wasn’t your fault, Richard,” Ginger replied. “I’m fine. It was not much of a punch.”

Richard and Joseph both turned on William.

“Such gentlemanly behavior, Officer Davenport. I’m sure Miss Fitzpatrick will be enamored with you now, if she wasn’t before,” Richard said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Miss Fitzpatrick, I do apologize. It was never my intent to hit you, only the cowardly Richard Douglas, who was hiding behind your skirts. However can I make amends?”

Ginger dusted herself off, and rolled her shoulder to assess the damage. Satisfied it had been just a glancing blow, she replied, “You can make amends by ceasing this childish behavior. I am more than capable of watching out for my own virtue. I don’t need either of you to do it for me. Please stop this foolishness.”

“We are not just fighting to protect your virtue, Miss Fitzpatrick,” William replied. “We are in a battle for your hand.”

“Well, then, by all means stop. My hand is not yours for the taking. I do not have romantic feelings for either one of you.” She stole a quick glance at Joseph.

The duelists stopped in their tracks and looked at her in disbelief.

William coughed out a laugh. “You’re full of fine talk now, but after I win the horserace in the morning, and have women swarming all over me, you’ll change your mind. You will want me then. And despite your words today, I will still welcome your attention tomorrow.”

Ginger looked at the West Point officer and raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think it will sway my opinion. I couldn’t care less who wins a stupid and ill-advised horserace. But if you want to believe the outcome of the race will change my stance, go ahead.”

She turned to Joseph. “I’m unhurt, so please return to Midnight’s side. I know you’re concerned about his safety. Thank you for your efforts. Mr. Douglas will accompany me to the house.”

Joseph silently walked back to the stables as William glared after him. Then William puffed himself up, and followed Richard and Ginger to the house.

In a voice filled with indignation, he spoke to their backs, “All right, Miss Fitzpatrick. I can wait until tomorrow to claim you as my prize.”

Ginger took her seat at dinner, silently stomping her foot underneath the expensive mahogany table. She’d hoped to be seated near Joseph, but he was not at the table. She and her maid, Colleen, had taken extra care with her grooming this evening. Her new dress, with its full skirt of patterned blue organdy, complemented her hair beautifully. The sleeves fell just below her elbows and were finished off with a wide band of creamy Maltese lace. The bodice was cut in a low V, with another band of lace inset at the middle. The tight bodice made her waist look even smaller, and her hair had been brushed until it gleamed. Ginger knew she looked her best, but it seemed her dress and her grooming were all for naught, for there was no one at dinner she wanted to impress.

She was seated between Basil and Mrs. Curran, their hostess, and across the table from William, who would be racing the next day.

“Basil, where is Joseph this evening?” Ginger asked.

“He’s eating with the stable hands tonight.”

“But why would he eat in the stable, instead of feasting on this wonderful meal Mrs. Curran has provided for us?” Ginger smiled at Mrs. Curran, who accepted the compliment with a nod of her head.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to show his face, knowing how soundly I’m going to beat him tomorrow,” William sneered.

Ginger flicked an angry glance across the table at William, then turned back to Basil. “Well?”

“He’s worried about his horse, and doesn’t want anything more to happen to him.”

Ginger caught her breath. “Anything more? Has something happened to Midnight?”

“No, but only because Joseph is never far from him. Someone tried to slip moldy hay into the horse’s feeding trough this afternoon.”

She glared at William, who would not meet her gaze. “Why, moldy hay would make the horse sick for at least a day! Who would do such a thing, knowing that the big race is tomorrow?”

William straightened in his seat, pulling his body into military erectness. “Are you accusing me of foul play? I have not been anywhere near the stables since this morning. And I don’t need to resort to trickery to win the race.”

“But you nearly ran into me this afternoon as you were hurrying away from the stables! Surely you remember? It was right before you punched me.”

Basil turned to his sister. “William punched you? What are you talking about?” He rose from his seat and reached across the table, grabbing William’s arm. “You hit my sister? I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp!”

Ginger pulled on her brother’s arm and hissed. “Sit down. There’s no need to cause a scene. I’d be happy to show you the bruise, Basil, if you’d like. It’s of no consequence, really — he certainly didn’t have much power behind his punch. I’ve received harder blows from you and Halwyn when we were just playing. But Mr. Douglas and I did see Officer Davenport leaving the stables this afternoon, so his claim he hasn’t been there since morning is indeed false.” Basil took his seat once more, but he continued to glare across the table.

William glared back. “So now you’re accusing me of lying as well as insinuating I’m trying to harm a horse?”

Basil covered his sister’s hand with his own. “Despite the fact that you hit my sister, I’m certain Ginger did not mean to cast aspersions on your character. She knows you are a horse lover, as is Joseph. But in addition to the moldy hay, one of the workers tried to take Midnight out for a run this evening. When Joseph caught him leading the horse out of the stall, the stable boy said he’d made a mistake and had the wrong horse. So, Joseph thought it for the best he take off his fancy dinner suit and stay in the barn for the night, in order to avoid any more mix-ups.”

William’s hand flexed into a fist on top of the table. His eyes flashed as he stared at Basil. “It seems to me Joseph is finding one excuse after another for why his horse will lose tomorrow. Why doesn’t he just accept the fact his is the lesser horse and he is the inferior rider instead of trying to pin blame on someone other than himself and his steed?”

“Believe me, William, Joseph is not trying to point fingers. He would never have said anything about it, but I felt an explanation for his absence from the table this evening was owed to our hostess.”

Mrs. Curran nodded her head as she accepted the explanation.

William would not back down. “Well, tomorrow will tell the tale, won’t it? When we were out today, both of us going over the course, he merely walked his horse through the race, and let him sniff around, rather than keep the horse on task and get to the finish line. I don’t think much of the mount myself, and can’t understand why he’s gained so much attention from everyone. You’d think all of New York had never seen a horse before, until Joseph came to town with his steeds.”

“But Midnight is the most handsome horse I’ve ever seen.” Ginger’s voice was almost a whisper.
And the rider the most handsome man I’ve ever seen
.

“Handsomeness has nothing to do with performance. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.” William gulped a long swallow from his wineglass.

“Indeed, we will,” she replied. “I can’t wait.”

The Fourth of July dawned cloudy. A hard, steady rain had fallen during the night, making the ground spongy and soft. Guests on horseback, as well as the two racers, assembled in the front yard, gouging holes in the finely manicured lawn, so recently the scene of spirited croquet and bowling matches.

As the horses milled about, Nathaniel Curran explained to the excited crowd what was about to happen. Standing on the front steps of his home, he cleared his throat dramatically before he began speaking.

“Essentially, there are no rules for this race, other than the starting and ending points. It can be run in any order and on any route the riders choose so long as they cross the four major obstacles — the great stone wall, the ravine, the creek, and the wooden fence. We will begin here at the door to the estate, and end at the steeple of St. George’s Episcopal Church in Hempstead. The course is approximately four and a half miles long and consists of a flat but rough terrain portion, a heavily wooded area, several small fences, and a creek. Officials are already positioned at each of the four chosen obstacles to make certain they are crossed by both riders.”

Mr. Curran looked out over the crowd. “We will give the spectators ten minutes to get into position before we send the racers off. This will be a difficult and dangerous course, which adds to the excitement. Good luck to both of our riders, and have a safe and clean race.”