The Diabolical Baron

by Mary Jo Putney

  Always happy to see their daughter-in-law, Colonel Sterling and his wife urged them to spend more than one night, but no one wished to linger—Jason because he felt obscurely that he would be able to control his feelings more easily when he was on his home ground, Jessica and Caroline because they might as well get on with the business ahead.

  The next day’s journey was shorter than the first, and soon they were among the steep-sided Cotswold hills. The road twisted and turned to create ever-changing views of breathtaking beauty. Although she had grown up not far to the south, Caroline had never been into Gloucestershire and she was disarmed by its loveliness. It would be a major compensation for a loveless match.

  Not long after their midday break, Jason signaled the coachman to stop at the crest of a hill and invited the ladies out to admire the view. The hills and woodlands seemed to have been designed by a painter; here and there a square stone church tower marked a distant village, and a small river curved away from them to the west.

  Following the river’s turns, Caroline drew in a breath at the sight of the house in the middle distance. Designed and proportioned in the Palladian mode, its cool classicism blended perfectly into its setting. “What is that great house, Lor ... Jason?” she asked.

  With a warmth in his voice she had never heard before, he said, “That is your new home, Wildehaven.”

  She looked a few moments longer. “I can see why you are so pleased to come home. It is superb.”

  Jessica had been unusually silent during the trip; she conceded the irony of having her first love as her new nephew, but she wasn’t quite ready to find amusement in it.

  She’d thought long and hard on how Jason would suit her niece, and could not decide whether the match would succeed or fail abysmally. She would swear the young Jason Kincaid had had not an ounce of real vice in him, but this new hard-eyed stranger was an enigma. It was easy to see how intimidating he would be to a shy young girl.

  If he had the patience to deal gently with Caroline, the marriage could be comfortable, but patience had never been a feature in his youth and he didn’t appear to have improved in that respect. For Caroline’s sake she would hint to him the best way of winning her niece’s trust and love, though it was not a task she welcomed.

  As she looked at Wildehaven’s distant majesty, it was impossible to avoid thinking that she could have been mistress of it. But any life that didn’t include Linda would not have been worth having, so the pang was easily suppressed.

  It was another half-hour’s ride to the gates of Wildehaven. A magnificent drive lined with lime trees curved around the side of a hill and led to the main entrance. Jason bowed ceremonially over Caroline’s hand after he had helped her from the carriage. “Welcome to Wildehaven.”

  Caroline looked at the broad facade dubiously. Close up, it was rather overpowering. The central section was three stories high, and long wings angled out on both sides. It seemed to have been built for a race of giants, not for undersized females of no great style or countenance.

  Her confidence was not aided by the hastily assembled line of servants waiting to greet her in the enormous high-ceilinged entrance hall. The butler and housekeeper were even more intimidating than Jason himself; impossible to think of giving either of them orders. They were introduced as Burke and Mrs. Burke, presumably a married couple. The rest of the names and faces passed in a blur.

  “Would you care to rest from the trip, Caroline?” Jason’s voice was a welcome break into her tired confusion.

  “I would like that very much,” she said. “What time do we dine?”

  “We keep country hours here, but that gives you two hours for a rest. Mrs. Burke will show you and your aunt to your rooms.”

  Before they could leave, a giant dog came galloping into the room, heading straight for his much-missed master. He came to a screeching halt, skidding ponderously on the polished marble floor, his head exactly positioned for Jason’s caress.

  Secure in Jessica’s arms, Wellesley hissed in panic, his back arching and his tail fluffing to double its normal diameter. Intrigued by the sound, the mastiff swung his giant head toward the cat and moved to investigate.

  Before Wellesley’s hysteria became completely uncontrollable, Jason snapped, “Rufus, you are not to touch the cat, now or ever. Do you understand?”

  The dog looked at his master in what appeared to be perfect comprehension, and a look of doggy delight caused his jaws to loll open as Jason continued scratching behind his ears. “As for you, Wellesley,” Jason continued with a hard stare at the little cat, “cease this unseemly emotion. Rufus will not harm you.”

  Amazingly, the kitten appeared to accept this. His tail resumed normal proportions and he settled once more in Jessica’s grasp.

  The drama having ended, the housekeeper inclined her head infinitesimally and swept off with Caroline and Jessica trailing behind her. Jessica’s long strides kept up easily, but Caroline felt like a child scurrying to keep up with an adult. The journey to their rooms seemed to encompass miles of corridors and handsome rooms; by the time they reached their destination she was thinking wistfully of the ball of string Theseus took into the Labyrinth.

  “Your room, Miss Hanscombe. If you should wish anything, just pull the bell rope. I will send a girl along later to help you prepare for dinner.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Burke,” Caroline replied. “I am sure I will be most comfortable here.”

  Her assigned chamber was beautifully proportioned and fitted with elegant Chippendale-style furniture. The predominant colors were rose and a delicate green, and the massive canopied bed would suit any fairy-tale princess. She moved to the window and found herself looking behind the house into the Wilde-haven gardens. Formal squares of grass and flowers led the eye to a small lake where a graceful bridge arched to a small island.

  She was still gazing out the window when a knock on the door was quickly followed by her aunt.

  “Goodness, Caro, it’s magnificent! I feel as if I’ve wandered into one of my childhood fantasies. They’ve put me right next door.” Jessica grinned. “I suppose that is the best place for a chaperon to do her guarding. I’m lucky they didn’t give me a pallet across your door to lie on.”

  Caroline turned from her window position. “It certainly is superb. I can’t help feeling that Wildehaven is the wrong name. There is nothing at all wild about it. Everything appears to be under complete control. It gives me an insight into why Jason might have offered for me. He should find me easy to control.”

  Jessica chuckled and cast herself back over the bed, stretching her arms and legs catwise in sensual appreciation. “It was a surprise to have Rufus and Wellesley obey him so readily, though it benefited Wellesley’s health. As for your being easy to control—what a whisker! I know you never indulge in open rebellion, but you have a talent for eluding unwelcome strictures. I’ve see you disappear like a wisp of smoke any number of times when you didn’t like what was going on.

  “In the meantime, I have a great desire to soak up every particle of luxury Wildehaven has to offer. It is hard to imagine an environment further removed from the dirt floor of a Spanish peasant’s hut. It makes me so glad for those years of following the drum. I could not appreciate this half so much without my memories for contrast.”

  Caroline smiled warmly and crossed to sit on the bed next to her aunt. “Indeed, Jess, you were born to rule over a domain like this. Not like me—I should be much happier in one of those stone cottages we passed on the way.”

  “As long as it had a music room as large as the rest of the house.”

  “Exactly so.” They both laughed.

  “When did you meet Jason?” Caroline was curious, and this was the first time they had been private since leaving London.

  “Oh, it was just a hunting acquaintance. Father and I were visiting with one of his friends in the shires. He never had any money longer than it took him to lose it at cards, but he didn’t lack for well-off friends who would keep
him in comfort. I was seventeen and getting ready for my first Season, so I was old enough to be an asset to him. Doubtless he hoped some rich lord would fall in love with me.”

  A touch of bitterness was in her voice; she paused, then continued, “Jason Kincaid was there for the hunting also, staying with a university friend. They were just down from Cambridge, I believe. Our paths crossed at the hunts and the balls. After I left for London I never saw him again. It was quite a surprise to see him after all these years. I had no idea your Diabolical Baron was someone I knew when he was a fledgling.”

  “What was he like then?”

  “A bruising rider, and always ripe for a jest. Much more playful than he seems now. I suppose his responsibilities have made him rather grim, but I’m sure a lighter side of him is still there, waiting for you to discover.” Jessica looked earnestly at her niece, who seemed unwilling to pursue the topic.

  Caroline stood and said, “I’ve always wondered how someone like you who is always bringing in stray animals and patching broken wings can possibly hunt. Isn’t there a contradiction there?”

  “Yes, but what are any of us but a mass of contradictions? When I was a child, I would unstop the fox earths to foil the hunters because I couldn’t bear to think of creatures dying unnecessarily, even if they were vermin. But riding in the hunt itself is so intoxicating . . . the excitement, the feel of the wind, the power of the horse you control. ... It is the closest mere mortals come to flying. There is nothing like it. Ideally, the fox gives us a wonderful chase and escapes in the end.”

  Caroline nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you. I understand better why people are so passionate about hunting. It was a favorite topic of the more boring young men I met at the ton parties. They were always going on about what great runs they’d had.” She yawned. “And now to sleep. I’m going to need all my strength for the inevitable house tour.”

  Jessica slid off the bed. “With any luck you’ll be spared that until tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I’d better check that Wellesley isn’t on top of my canopy bed. If he had been a female, we could have called him Pandora, for all the things he gets into.”

  Then she retired to her own blue-tinted room to fortify herself for what promised to be the worst house party of her life.

  Chapter 7

  After Mrs. Burke had taken the ladies off, Jason lost no time in going to his room and changing into riding clothes. Ordinarily he would have visited his office to see if any urgent matters awaited attention, but today he hastened to the stables and saddled his favorite stallion, Caesar, without waiting for a groom. As soon as Jason and Caesar had cleared the stable-yard he gave the restless horse its head and they went blazing over the hills in a burst of explosive mutual energy.

  They had reached the boundary of Wildehaven and were circling the perimeter before Caesar began to flag and Jason let the stallion slow to a more moderate pace. Jason had always been an intensely physical man, and the confinement and tension of the last two days had been a sore trial.

  With some of his energy released, he was now free to think on the unwelcome new complication in his life. He had gotten over his feelings for Jessica years ago, of course. It had merely been a youthful infatuation with a girl prettier than most.

  An unwelcome voice in his head said: Not pretty; beautiful. He adjusted his thoughts. All right, she had been beautiful. Had been ? Well, she was still beautiful.

  But she was more than that. Jason shook his head irritably, trying to dismiss his unruly second-guesser. Instead, he was rocked by a flood of memories.

  It was the first time he had been allowed to ride with the Quorn, perhaps the most prestigious hunt in England. He was respectful of his elders, as befitted a young man of twenty-one summers, but he knew his riding was the equal of any man’s there. A few women were present, but the crowd of hunters that morning was large and the pre-dawn mists heavy.

  He had been impatient; the worst part of any hunt was waiting for the hounds to find a quarry. When a scent was raised, they were off on a wild chase across rough country he had never seen before. The hunters were bunched at first but thinned out as riders and horses refused jumps, took tumbles, or became too winded to continue.

  Jason was in the forefront close behind the huntsman when he realized a woman was in the small group. He couldn’t see her clearly in the half-light, though he had been impressed by her riding.

  There was a minor debacle when the fox was cornered; the clumsy female somehow got her horse tangled with the hounds and the quarry had escaped. It was a horrendous breach of hunting etiquette and the Master had been furious until he had a closer look at the transgressor.

  Jason was by this time near enough to see her, and he would have gasped if he’d had the breath for it. The female was very young, very contrite, and incredibly, breathtakingly lovely. She wore an emerald-green velvet riding habit that matched her eyes, and long strands of bright auburn hair blew across her clear rose-petal skin.

  She batted her eyelashes as she apologized to the Master. So sorry! Overcome with excitement! The horse too strong for her; she would be ever so careful in the future! It would never happen again!

  The Master, a retired general known for his steely eye and peremptory manners, harrumphed and muttered and even, Jason would have sworn, blushed. She was a foolish gel and had best be more careful in the future, but demmed if he’d ever seen a female who could ride like her. Best stay by him till they struck another scent and he’d explain the rules of the hunt to her.

  Did she know the fox that escaped was old Rufus, the wiliest beast in the shires? He’d been trying to catch the critter for years.

  Oh, she hadn’t known, so sorry, General.

  Well, the fox had led them on merry chases before, and perhaps he would again. She wasn’t to worry her pretty little head about it.

  Jason had watched the little drama with deep appreciation. She might have fooled the Master, but no one who watched closely could think she wasn’t in control of her horse. The gelding should have bolted or thrown her in that mad tangle of hounds, but she had shown effortless mastery. He saw the mischievous gleam under the fluttering lashes and would wager the minx had deliberately caused the incident so the fox could escape.

  The Master and the girl rode off together, but Jason tested his theory at a hunt ball later that week. He had discovered her name was Jessica Westerly. Her father was the Honorable Gilbert Westerly, youngest son of a viscount, known as a gamester with never a feather to fly with. He spent his time moving from one great house to another, playing cards and paying the shot with lavish quantities of easy charm. The chit would be making her come-out in the spring; apparently he had brought her along so she could test her social wings in a more informal setting.

  Based on what Jason could see, the wings had passed the test with superlative ease. There wasn’t a man in the room unaware of Miss Westerly. They competed for her dances, for the right to fetch her orgeat, for a single glance of those dazzling green eyes. While two gentlemen were politely disputing the right to her next dance, Jason had swept her away.

  She was dressed with great propriety in a white muslin gown edged with green embroidery to match her eyes. He accused her of letting the fox escape because it was a relative of hers since they shared the same coloring. She answered with rich laughter acknowledging his hit, and he was lost.

  The next two weeks had been sheer magic. Their constant companionship inspired excited gossip amongst the old quizzes, but Jessica gave no sign of noticing. During the hunts they hurled themselves across the shires with the mad confidence of those too young to believe in their own mortality. Jason had never known a rider to equal her.

  They danced together at evening parties, shared meals and mischief, talked of whatever entered their heads. While no words of love were exchanged, Jason was sure his every thought and feeling found an echo in her.

  The only small cloud came when he showed too much interest in a famous society hostess known for her taste in
young men. Jessica treated him with ruthless civility for nearly three hours. Delighted by this sign of jealousy, he teased her out of the mood by evening’s end.

  On the night of the last formal hunt ball at the local great house, they had slipped outside under the full wintry moon. The night was bitterly cold, the garden a silvery enchantment belonging to them alone. For timeless moments they shared an embrace that left them both shaken. Jason had had his fair share of experience with women, but he had never before felt such passion and awed tenderness.

  Jessica’s response was inexperienced but as enthusiastic as his own. Taking her back to the ball was the hardest thing he had ever done, and would have been impossible had his protectiveness not exceeded even his desire.

  The next day he called early at the house where she stayed and asked her to go riding. No one could keep up when they chose to exert their horsemanship. They easily lost the groom detailed to Miss Westerly’s protection, finally stopping and dismounting under a broad-armed chestnut tree. He kept his hands off her with great difficulty while he stammered his proposal in a stiff, brusque voice, saying how much he admired her beauty, how proud he would be to have her as his wife.

  He’d never forgotten the expression on her face changing from eager trust to shock, pain, and then blazing anger. She had cursed him in language she shouldn’t have known, mounted her horse, and was gone while he was still reeling.

  He had thought he knew her to the depths of his soul, and found he did not know her at all. Perhaps the anger was because she thought of him as a friend, and was outraged when he acted the lover? She had not kissed him as if he were only a friend. Had she been insulted by the proposal of a young man with so little to offer her? But he had never discussed his circumstances. Or perhaps the night before was the casual experiment of a girl practicing her wiles on someone who didn’t matter. That was the worst thought of all.

  Hurt beyond words, two hours later Jason had packed and left his friend’s house and was on his way to the small estate near Newmarket he had inherited from his mother. It was three months before he ventured out where friends or family could see him, and even then George Fitzwilliam complained he was like a bear with a sore ear.