IX. Horses

“They might as well call it the Royal Hat Cup,” Lecia muttered as she and Vaughan entered the racecourse. He covered his mouth with a fist to conceal his guttural laugh as a cough.

There were an ungodly number of hats, but it was to be expected. It was uniform, after all. However, that didn’t make Lecia appreciate them any more. Hers was simple and functional—now that it was June, there really was a need to hide from the sun—everyone else’s was worthy of its own seat.

“Your irritability is precious to me,” the Duke sighed fancifully. He patted her left hand where it rested on his arm as her right reached up to adjust her petite hat. She really was an endearingly fanatical mess: flushed cheeks, sophisticated scowl.

“I look horrible in hats,” she groaned. “They distort my head, and my face, and I look terrible. No wonder I’ve never been to the races.” She felt stiff and uncomfortable.

“You look lovely,” Vaughan reassured her with a tone that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you had a marvelous time at the Derby,” he reminded her.

Sighing, she nodded. The Derby had been more exciting than she’d imagined. It was about more than just the horses: she’d met so many famous people, Oscar Wilde included. The race itself had been a great success, as she’d won quite a bit off of her bet on a horse named Melton. He looked somewhat like Wick—Lecia’s very uncreative nickname for her new steed—so she’d placed her money on him; the odds system was a trifle too confusing to learn in the heat, and her instincts served her better. Vaughan had bet on a colt named Paradox, and as he lost Mr. Wilde had said: I understand that Milton's Paradise Lost is being revived and will appear in Derby Week and will be published under the title Paradox Lost by Melton. Lecia found it quite humorous and recounted it to as many people as she could before retiring for bed. Vaughan, however, was somewhat bitter over his loss, though her joy made his resentment impossible to maintain.

“Will Melton be here?” Lecia asked.

“I don’t believe so,” Vaughan told her with a sigh. She attempted to pout and he couldn’t help but grin at her. As they approached the Royal Enclosure, Vaughan spotted some books and grabbed one, handing it off to his wife. “Check for him in there, but I reckon he’s on rest.”

Melton would not be running the Ascot that day, much to Lecia’s disappointment. However, as the thousands of other people flooded onto the grounds, she combed through the pedigrees of the horses that day and decided that she’d place her bet on a grey horse named Eastern Emperor. He shared similar relatives—some a bit incestuous, she realized with a start—with Melton; she was new to horseracing, but she figured that the talent had to be in the blood, like an inherence of titles.

The couple had been fortunate to snag a seat under a canvas umbrella. Rather, one had been reserved for them. The tables were quaint wooden tea tables with matching seats. It was odd to be in the enclosure, Lecia decided; admittance was limited to nobility and members of the gentry who had exceptional connections. Though they were also guests of the Queen, it was quite clear that everyone regarded the Duke with more esteem than the other visitants, so the attempt to have quiet tea with her husband as they looked on the lesser races of the day was futile. While no one was expressly rude or overbearing—because no one would dare to interrupt them—their gazes and tittering whispers were distracting. Furthermore, Lecia was not all that comfortable with how the men and women who did not have the privilege to be in her position eyed the enclosure. She felt like a million faces were vying for her attention, begging her to confront them and their misfortunes.

Lecia had grown up wealthy, yes; her father was a Baron and she had been wrapped in luxury from the moment she was born. She’d never particularly considered just how different her life was from the lower classes, and in Lekenbourgh the poorer families weren’t as destitute as some of the citizens of London. The realization was terrifying.

“Are you all right?” Vaughan asked softly, reaching across the table to take her hand.

As she nodded, she realized that her expression had taken a serious turn.

“Are you—do you have a charity?” she asked, out of breath.

Confused, Vaughan retreated back to his side of the table.

“Well, not a whole lot,” he told her. “I’m heavily involved in the restoration of my properties for the good of the people, but, unfortunately, no, my predecessors never set up any foundations or charities. You don’t become wealthier than the crown by being generous with your funds, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“I just…I realize that I’m quite well-off while some of those people are…not.” She took a breath and a quick glance around. “I suddenly don’t feel so relaxed, and think perhaps we ought to be more charitable,” she admitted firmly. She sat up straighter, determined now to be a respectable Duchess for reasons of her own making, not only because she had married well.

Vaughan dipped his head in agreement. Pride glittered in his eyes, and admiration. She certainly was a fearsome woman.

“I believe we can make that happen. There’s an entire account that hasn’t been touched since the 1600s,” he told her.

Lecia’s muscles began to loosen; perhaps her philanthropy wasn’t particularly altruistic—she really only started to care when the guilt set in—but now that it had her attention, she really did desire to help the underprivileged classes.

“Regrettably,” Vaughan began with a laugh, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I had planned to mention it here but now I only hope it doesn’t upset you. Perhaps it’s tactless of me to speak of it now. Maybe I should wait,” he mused, mostly to himself.

Lecia, with her detestation of secrets and mystery, immediately frowned and glared across the table. She didn’t need to say anything; it was quite clear to Vaughan that he would regret not telling her.

“Well, the stables at the palace have fallen into some disrepair for some time now. You know, I’ve really only kept the Hackneys for driving, and my pleasure mount, and the few workhorses. They’ve been well cared for, but no one’s really had the mind to take up the challenge of reviving the state of the place. So, knowing how fond you are of equines, I had ordered the renovations should start,” he said. “I was thinking that you’d like to expand the herd once you got settled in…”

It came is a bit of a surprise. Vaughan had been almost too nice, she thought.

“That would be…nice, I suppose,” she responded. “Thank you.”

Sensing her bewilderment, he rolled his shoulders back and shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair. He guessed that things might have gotten confusing. Admittedly, he liked her more than he’d intended, but as a close friend, maybe a sister.

No. Not a sister. Definitely not.

“I just…I’ve watched a few women lose it when they’re faced with all that their husband’s give them. Beyond the dresses and parties and travelling, there isn’t much, you know. And I know that you aren’t as invested in the fashion and balls and society as, say, my stepmother. I guess I was trying to offer you another way to occupy your time besides reading. I clearly don’t know you very well, and if you don’t want to have fifty horses, it’s really inconsequential to me. If anything, the stable needed to be done anyway, and now your Wick will come home to a very nice stall instead of a dilapidated mess.”

Lecia sat for a moment, taking in the sadness of his eyes. In the time she’d known him, the gravity of his proposal had never really occurred to her. He was being rather thick at the moment. Most women had children to “occupy their time”. She honestly had felt unenthusiastic about motherhood for a long time, so his disinterest in children hadn’t particularly phased her; it was exciting and her satisfaction was about as much thought as she gave the whole situation until just then. It had become very official that he was opposed to having an heir and Lecia was unexpectedly very determined to find out why. She blushed when she considered that he was disinterested in her femininity.

“Oh. I suppose I just hadn’t thought of it that way. I think I have an awful lot to learn first, though. And I guess that I’d like to settle our future in charitable affairs first, but, after that, I would probably enjoy a stable of horses if even just to look at them,” she said.

She had a sinking feeling that for the rest of the day she would be plagued by the question. Could Vaughan favor his own kind over hers? There really wasn’t a lot of evidence in favor of that possibility, but he was a Duke who didn’t want children, and that just seemed very odd to her.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well? Now you look a bit…pale,” he asked her a while later.

With a smile she assured him that she was fine, but her stomach was in knots. At the end of the day, she didn’t even care that she’d won the race again. Really, she was far more excited to return to their rooms, have a bath, and sleep. It wasn’t that her husband disturbed her—she really wouldn’t mind—and the likelihood was slim anyway, he’d been a notorious rake for ages; Lecia had just become so overwhelmed with confusion that she wasn’t sure which way was East, or which foot was the left.

She really just needed a nap, and maybe some tea.

A/N: This one is, again, kind of short, so sorry. I have gotten into the habit of updating more frequently, though I apologize if the quality is kind of shit. I've gone off some terrible medication recently, so my motivation to write has increased, but I've definitely neglected my editorial process. At any rate, at least you can read more.