Gayle Buck by Hearts Betrayed

lordship. “Uncle Edwin, I have a favor to ask of you,” she said.
    Mr. Davenport eyed his niece’s determined expression with foreboding. “Of course, my dear. Whatever it is in my power to do, I shall naturally do for you.”
    Michele smiled pleasantly. “I appreciate your willingness, sir. It is a small matter, really. I wish to know where I might hire a carriage-and-four.”
    Mr. Davenport blinked, completely bowled over. “A carriage-and-four! Why, whatever for?”
    “Actually, it had ought to be a phaeton. I want good cattle, not a team of slugs. Oh, and I wish the rig within the fortnight,” said Michele, hardly heeding the growing consternation on her uncle’s face.
    Mr. Davenport took hold of her arm and steered her into his study. “See here, Michele. This is quite an expense that you are speaking of. I hardly think that your father would approve of your allowance, as substantial as it is, to be squandered so outrageously.”
    Michele acknowledged the truth of his observation. “Indeed, you are correct, sir. Hiring a rig would be terribly uneconomical. Papa would never have countenanced it. I shall buy a phaeton and a team instead. Where does one go to arrange for that sort of thing?”
    Mr. Davenport stared at her. Then he said heavily, “A lady does not go to arrange the procurement of a carriage.’’
    “I understand, of course. Then I must request the services of a gentleman to do so for me,” she said. When her uncle did not immediately offer to take on the service for her, she put up her brows to express well-bred surprise.
    Mr. Davenport accurately read her expression. “I am sorry to have to disappoint you, Michele, but I shall not be that gentleman. I cannot condone such an unnecessary expenditure. Indeed, I do not think that your father would thank me if I took it upon myself to pauper you by acceding to this whim of yours.”
    Michele looked at him. There was a distinct coolness in her midnight-blue eyes. “You mistake the matter, sir. It is not for you to render or withhold your permission. However, that is neither here nor there. You have given me all the information that I shall require of you.” She swept out of the study, leaving her uncle prey to conflicting emotions, primary among them the strong wish that he had never agreed to have his niece visit for the Season. She reminded him on occasion too strongly of a younger version of Lady Basin-berry.
    Michele was angered by her uncle’s refusal to aid her, but she was not entirely without recourse. She recalled that Lord Randol had spoken of a certain Captain Becher with admiration. His lordship had described the racing that some of the officers got up across the Spanish plains between engagements with the enemy, races that were dangerous for both horses and riders because of the numerous rabbit holes. Captain Becher had been a talented and intrepid rider with a keen eye for horseflesh.
    Michele thought since she had been in London she had seen Captain Becher’s name more than once in the newspaper. She went to the library to scan the racing news, and it was not long before she found the reference to Captain Becher. She smiled to herself. She would have her carriage yet. Michele penned a quick note to Captain Becher, requesting that he wait upon her at his convenience.
    Late that afternoon she was gratified to be informed that a Captain Becher had called. Michele agreed to see the gentleman, and the butler withdrew to inform the visitor.
    “Captain Becher? Who is that, Michele?” Lydia asked, curious.
    Michele shook her head warningly, aware that her guest was close by. The gentleman entered the drawing room and Michele greeted him with an outstretched “hand. “Captain Becher, how good of you to honor me with a visit.”
    He bowed, slanting an amused glance at his hostess. “I could hardly ignore such an intriguing request, mademoiselle,” he said.
    Michele introduced Lydia, who frankly stared at the gentleman. He was a