While Sir Hew Mainfly and Billy Platt were plotting the ruin of Ivan Moordown, the fair Duchess of Wincastle was busy arranging her house for a grand ball to be given that evening. All the county magnates had accepted, and amongst the "contents" were her Grace's two reputed suitors, Sir Hew Mainfly and Mr. Moordown, so it will be perceived that there were other interests linked with the winning of the new prize instituted by the duchess, which did not at first meet the eye.
Rumour alleged that of her two lovers the duchess preferred Moordown, but that the reckless life he led prevented her giving him any encouragement. As has been already seen, the two men are very dissimilar in character—the one resembling a lion, and Sir Hew more of a tiger.
The duchess herself had been a Blanche Wintour, the daughter of a wealthy commoner. She had been and was still a great beauty, and the earl duke married her not because he cared for her, but to spite his brother and please his other relations, and secure an heir to the title and estates. A baby came, but, unfortunately, it was a girl, and the earl, thinking himself shamefully ill-used, went off in a hot temper to the North Pole, where he caught a severe cold, which, settling on his lungs, ultimately led to his death. Her first marriage had been entirely one of convenience, but in selecting a second husband the duchess was at liberty to be guided by her heart.
All the guests at the ball were more or less interested in the Silver Gauntlet, and the chances of the various candidates were freely discussed. Other ladies besides the duchess had lovers going to take part in the race.
From the commencement of the betting till that night Mr. Moordown's horse had been the favourite, followed a point or two off by Sir Hew Mainfly's Springtrap, and Lord Piershore's Eye of Night, but no sooner had the dancing begun, when it was whispered about that there was something wrong with Highdrift.
One man had seen Billy Platt lay six ponies, and offer to go on; a second was told that the horse was actually scratched on account of an accident to his fetlock joint, and a third had heard that the retrograde movement in the betting was only got up for the easier working of a large commission.
On approaching a knot of these gossips, the question was put point blank to Moordown whether there was anything the matter with his horse, and his answer was reassuring enough.
"When I left him a few minutes ago," he said, "he was as well as any horse in England."
Still there were men who shook their heads, believing that where the smoke is the fire is not far distant, and they noticed that Moordown looked terribly dejected and ill at ease.