Lady Vixen (The Reckless Brides, Book 3)

by Shirlee Busbee

  Lady Vixen

  The Reckless Brides, Book Three

  Shirlee Busbee

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 1980, 2020 by Shirlee Busbee. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64457-210-8

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  II. Christopher

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  III. Traces Of Love

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Before You Go…

  A Heart for the Taking

  Also by Shirlee Busbee

  About the Author

  This one is for three very special people,

  The late and much missed, TOM E. HUFF, who over many months gave me so much encouragement and who told me repeatedly that the second book is the hardest…he was right!

  HOWARD BUSBEE, my husband, my favorite critic, my favorite proofreader, my favorite fan, and my mainstay.

  And finally, ROSIE, who kept me on the right track, and dropped her gems of wisdom at precisely the right time.

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  It was one of those warm, lazy days in August that occasionally caressed the gentle hills and valleys of Surrey, near the small village of Beddington’s Corner. The sunlight was streaming into Nicole Ashford’s room, golden strands of gossamer that beckoned irresistibly and yet, for just a few minutes longer, Nicole refused to leave the comfort of the feather mattress. She ignored the urge to arise and meet the day, snuggling deeper into the welcoming pillow and pulling the fine linen sheet further up across her slim body. But sleep eluded her and with a sigh, she turned over, lying on her back in the large eyelet-cotton-draped bed. Dreamily, her topaz gaze drifted around the room, noting the polished rosewood highboy and the cherry-wood armoire and the jeweled tones of the carpet that covered the floor. Crisp white curtains, trimmed with the same fabric that formed the hangings of her bed, hung at the tall windows; a mahogany chest, filled with discarded toys, was underneath one of the windows, and to its left sat an oak rocking chair, the crumpled gown she had worn yesterday thrown carelessly across one arm.

  Seeing the gown reminded her that soon she would have to be up, because today was a special day—today her parents were having a garden party, and she and Giles, her twin brother, were going to be allowed to attend. A garden party might not sound y exciting, but as Nicole was not quite twelve and it was her first grown-up party, her pleasure in the coming day was understandable. Besides, it wasn’t often that Annabelle and Adrian Ashford were in residence at Ashland, their country estate and Nicole treasured the few moments she had with her parents.

  With a sense of happy anticipation, the long hair tumbling about the already-striking features, she flung back the sheets, only to stop abruptly as the door to her room flew open and Giles catapulted into the room.

  “Nicky! Are you still abed, you lazy slug? Hurry and dress, Shadow had her foal last night!” Giles cried, his voice full of pride and excitement. The topaz eyes so like his sister’s gleamed with tawny sparks and a lock of dark brown hair fell across his forehead as he entered her room.

  Nicole’s small face suddenly alight with the same blaze of elation, she slipped from the big bed, filling the air with questions. “Oh, why didn’t you wake me sooner? Were you there when the foal was born? What color is it? Is it a filly or a colt?”

  Giles laughed. “Give me a chance, chatterbox! No, I wasn’t there when it was born, so take that look off your face—I didn’t steal the march on you. It is a filly, a beautiful black little girl, just like Shadow and she was born just after midnight. Oh, wait until you see her, Nicky! She is so beautifully formed and so soft, with great brown eyes.” His boyish chest swelling with pride, he finished loftily, “Father says she is to be mine.”

  “Oh, Giles! How lucky for you!” Nicole returned with genuine pleasure. She had received her own horse, Maxwell, last year and was delighted that now Giles would have his.

  She scrambled into the gown she had worn yesterday. Preparing herself for the strictures she would receive from her maid later, she quickly washed her face and dragged a brush through her tangled curls. A second later the twins raced down the graceful staircase, across the elegant hallway and out the massive double doors at the front of the house. It took only a moment for them to leap down the wide steps of the entrance and to disappear around the side of the country mansion.

  Hand in hand, out of breath, they reached the stables at the rear of the house a few minutes later. On tiptoe, breathing in the pungent smell of warm horse flesh and sweet straw, they approached the large box stall at one end of the sprawling stables. Adrian Ashford, tall and handsome in buff breeches and a slim-fitting coat of blue with silver buttons, was already standing there, next to the head groom, Mr. Brown. Glancing over his shoulder, Adrian smiled at the children, beckoning them nearer.

  “I see you woke her. Couldn’t you wait?” he inquired, a smile curling his fine mouth, a teasing glint coming and going in the wide dark eyes.

  “No. Besides, Nicky would have been a spitting fury if I hadn’t told her immediately. You know what a pepper pot she is!” Giles answered, his eyes dancing.

  Nicole stuck out her tongue at him and flashed her father a sunny smile, saying demurely, “I am growing up now. Young ladies are not pepper pots!”

  Giles hooted with laughter and both Adrian and Mr. Brown joined in, much to Nicole’s discomfort. Taking pity on his daughter, Adrian swung her up in his arms, murmuring affectionately, “You’re getting almost too big for this, my pet. In a year or two, I’ll have to remember that you are not my little girl any longer.”

  “Oh, Father! I shall always be your little girl!” Nicole promised fiercely as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him almost convulsively. Her father kissed her on the forehead and set her on the ground. Pushing a strand of the shining sable-fire hair behind one of her ears, he said softly, “I’m sure you will sweetheart. But come, let us admire Shadow’s lovely little daughter.”

  The filly was just as G
iles had described her—black, black as ebony and with soft curious brown eyes. With a sigh of pleasure, not caring about possible damage to her gown, Nicole sank down onto the straw-littered floor, crooning, “Oh, you pretty thing. How beautiful you are.”

  Shadow, a long-limbed thoroughbred as black as her foal, nuzzled the spindle-legged small replica of herself, blowing softly through her nostrils and Nicole laughed. “I think Shadow is very proud of her daughter.” Turning the lively features up toward her brother, she asked, “What are you going to call her?”

  Looking a little self-conscious, Giles muttered, “I thought you would like to name her—you let me name Maxwell.”

  “May I? Really, Giles? You’ll let me name her for you?”

  “Of course, silly! Who else would I let do it?”

  The topaz eyes shining like jewels, Nicole turned back to stare at the foal. Her forehead wrinkled, she said after a few minutes, “I know it isn’t very clever, but I like the name Midnight. You said she was born just after midnight and she is certainly black as midnight.”

  “That would be perfect, Nicky! An excellent choice,” commented Adrian. Then pulling Nicole to her feet, he said, “Now I think we have all lingered here in the stables long enough. Your mother is probably wondering where we have all disappeared to. Don’t forget that we have guests arriving in a few hours.”

  “As if I would,” Nicole protested.

  Giles shot her a teasing look, murmuring, “Well if that’s what you are going to wear and if you’re going to leave that mane of yours straggling down your back, it certainly does look as if you have.”

  “Oh, pooh. You know very well I have not. Just you wait until you see me in a little while.” And with that she scampered off, the long sable-fire hair waving like a banner behind her.

  Two hours later, as Nicole stood on the broad marble steps leading to the entrance of Ashland, greeting the arriving guests, no one would have connected her with the hoyden who had knelt in the straw of the stable. Standing between her father and Giles, dressed in a most becoming soft muslin gown of buttercup yellow, the lace of her exquisite pantaloons just peeping from beneath the ankle-length skirt, the long hair pulled back into a wealth of gleaming ringlets that cascaded nearly to her waist, Nicole was everything an aristocrat’s daughter should be. From the bright yellow ribbon that held her hair back to the little white kid slippers on her feet she was a daughter any man would be proud of. That Adrian Ashford was pleased with both his son and daughter was apparent in the smiling and encouraging looks that he sent them as they continued to welcome the guests.

  Nicole loved every momement of it. Her only disappointment was that her mother, Annabelle, had decided to greet their friends and neighbors in the gardens rather than on the steps with her husband and children. But it was such a minor flaw in this wonderful day that Nicole shrugged it aside.

  The party was a huge success; the rose-scented gardens were dotted with gaily attired members of England’s wealthier class and white-and-gold liveried servants bobbed about offering gigantic trays of temptingly arranged refreshments. Under the stately oaks and spreading chestnuts were dainty white tables and chairs for those who wished to sit in the shade and observe the antics of the others.

  Nicole and Giles, full of icy lemonade and melting cream-cakes, darted from one group to another, enjoying the attention they were receiving. Yet both were conscious that it was their first grown-up party and they were behaving surprisingly well. Surprisingly for in the neighborhood everyone knew what mischievous little devils the Ashford twins could be.

  “Not an ounce of evil in either of them,” remarked Colonel Eggleston. “But the trouble those two can cause! Did I tell you of the time they caught a fox and put it in Lord Saxon’s hen house? That little Nicole is a harum-scarum scamp, if I ever saw one Why just last week she climbed to the top of that old walnut tree near our entrance gate. Hardly a young ladylike pursuit!”

  Nicole, approaching the Colonel and Mrs. Eggleston as they were standing and talking with the vicar and his wife, heard that comment, and for one moment she was shaken by a gust of quick anger. The Colonel would have to tell everyone, she thought furiously. Old windbag. But the burst of temper disappeared as quickly as it had come and with a smiling face, she said, “Good afternoon, Colonel Eggleston, Mrs. Eggleston, Vicar and Mrs. Summerton.”

  “How pretty you look today, my dear,” Mrs. Eggleston said quickly, having noticed the scowl that had momentarily darkened Nicole’s expressive face.

  And because Mrs. Eggleston, with her white sugar-spun hair and gentle blue eyes, was the nearest thing to a grandmother that the twins knew, and because she really was on her best behavior, Nicole forgot the Colonel’s comments. She didn’t remain with them long though, for seeing her father standing alone at the corner of the house, she wandered over to him. Absently he placed an arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her against him. “Happy, poppet?”

  “Oh, yes…but I am getting tired of smiling at everyone and being so very good. Won’t they all go home soon?”

  Adrian laughed. “So tactful! But that echoes my sentiments exactly.” Glancing around, he asked, “Where is your mother? I haven’t seen her for some minutes now.”

  “She’s walking in the rose garden with Mr. Saxon, I think. At least that’s where I saw her last.”

  With surprise, Nicole felt her father’s body stiffen and she looked up at his face. It seemed tighter, the laughter lines grim. But then he laughed, a peculiar laugh, and said, “Well, why don’t we go find them?”

  As she liked nothing better than to have both her charming father and her very beautiful mother with her, she tagged happily along as her father took off with long strides in the direction of the formal rose gardens that lay to the left of the lawn area.

  They found Annabelle and Robert Saxon a few moments later at the far end of the garden. Annabelle, in a high-waisted gown of leaf-green jaconet that bared more of her full bosom than was precisely proper, was leaning against the bright yellow cushions of a lawn lounge placed under a shading willow tree. Robert Saxon was seated beside her, his black head bent attentively in Annabelle’s direction. With a burst of innocent pride, Nicole couldn’t help admiring her mother’s startling beauty, the flaming red hair, the flawless features and the cat-shaped emerald eyes. Annabelle Ashford was undoubtedly one of the loveliest women in England.

  “Ah, here you are, my dear,” Adrian said coolly. “Don’t you think it rude to desert your guests?”

  Annabelle shrugged indifferently, then holding out her arms to Nicole, she smiled her dazzling smile and eagerly Nicole went to her. It wasn’t often that Mama was affectionate and Nicole hoarded these moments. Her head against Annabelle’s lovely breasts, Nicole smiled shyly at Robert Saxon, who mockingly returned the smile.

  Casting her husband a calculating glance, Annabelle murmured, “It is so warm, Adrian and you know these country parties are really not to my liking. I shall return in a moment, but I simply had to have a few minutes of peace and quiet, and Robert so very nicely offered to escort me away from all those babbling country yokels.”

  Her eyes round with astonishment, Nicole looked up at her mother. “Don’t you like the party, Mama? I think it is lovely.”

  “Of course, I do, darling! It is just that this kind of affair is not as exciting as the ones your father and I attend in London. That is all I meant. Don’t bother your head about it.”

  Satisfied, Nicole rested against her mother, unaware of the charming picture they presented. It was Robert Saxon who commented on it: “You are to be congratulated, Ashford, on possessing such a lovely wife and, it appears, an extremely lovely child. With that hair and mouth and those great topaz eyes in a few years’ time you’ll have the suitors clamoring for her hand.”

  Nicole blushed and turned her head away, although she was pleased. Adrian sent Saxon an unsmiling look and made a noncommittal remark. Sensing that the three adults were only making conversation in front of her, a
fter one last hug Nicole stood and said, “If you will excuse me, I shall go and find Giles.”

  “Run along, sweetheart,” Adrian replied and without another thought Nicole wandered down the manicured flagstone path on her way to the house.

  There was a faint smell of lavender in the air that mingled with the heavy perfume of the rosebushes that lined the path. Taking a deep breath, Nicole savored the rich fragrance that surrounded her. Today had been so special. So perfect she would remember it forever. Her first grown-up party and Mama so lovely and Father so handsome and kind. It was wonderful. Wonderful to live at Ashland, wonderful to have Giles for a brother and to be the daughter of her parents. With a sense of growing pride, she approached the stately house that she called home, thinking of the generations of Ashfords that had lived in this very house; of the Ashfords that had sailed with Drake, of the Ashfords that had fought against Cromwell and had gone into exile with their prince, of the Ashfords that had been advisors and friends of the various monarchs and she felt her heart swell with pride. Someday she would do great things too! She really would. And Giles and Mama and Father would be so very proud of her.

  Laughing at her own sudden intensity, she ran in search of Giles, finding him, as she expected, in the hayloft of the stables. The hayloft provided a perfect place to overlook Shadow and Midnight and together the twins spent several moments watching the still-clumsy movements of the young foal. Rising to her feet and brushing away the bits of clinging straw, Nicole said, “We had better go back, Giles. Father thinks it is rude to leave our guests.”