by Jen YatesNZ
‘Or you could ride with me,’ Bax suggested. ‘It’s a more comfortable way to travel.’
Jane found herself wishing desperately to accept such a plan but it was pointless giving him to understand she wasn’t interested in his company then agreeing to ride with him—all the way to Wolverton Castle!
‘Thank you,’ she answered steadily, ‘but that’d be impractical.’
Despite doing the trip in easy stages, Jane was relieved to see the towers of Wolverton Castle looming above the trees before dusk on the second day. More than once as she’d restlessly sought a comfortable position in the coach, did she wish she’d agreed to ride with Hades. Not only for the greater comfort of being in the saddle, but for the stimulation of his company. Both days Dolly had spent the morning practically bouncing on her seat with excitement and exclamations at each new sight they passed and the afternoons asleep with her bonnet over her face and snoring loudly.
Fully understanding the novelty for Dolly, who’d never been out of Rotherby village before this trip to London, Jane was nevertheless losing patience with her wide-eyed naiveté by the time they approached Wolverton Castle. As they entered the long avenue winding across the Great Park, Lord Baxendene rode past her carriage, which today was leading the cavalcade, and urged the big black gelding into a gallop. On foot the man was impressive; on horseback he had the presence of a mythical being, all grace, power—and temptation.
He was wearing her down without even trying. There’d be numerous opportunities to be alone over the next few days and she was sure he was an expert at engineering illicit rendezvous. Could she refuse him if he put his wicked proposition to her yet again? She must!
At least until she’d rid herself of her cursed virginity.
Could she construe that while at Wolverton? The thought had no sooner formed than she tossed it away with a sigh. The only man she wanted to take care of that insurmountable problem was Hades Delacourte himself, and he’d already made his principles on the matter quite clear. Wishing she hadn’t promised Sheri she’d attend the wedding, wishing Holly wouldn’t demand the reason why if she ordered her coachman to turn the carriage and head for Dover this instant—was pointless!
She had to find strength, find her ‘Lady of the Manor’ persona, remember all James had taught her. Simply remember James. Tears threatened as she realized she hadn’t thought of James in weeks, and the sense of sanctuary she’d felt with his memory was fading.
Time then, to find the strength within herself.
Chapter 11
She could find no excuse not to ride with Lady Baxendene and Selena—and Lord Baxendene—in their coach to the church in the village of Wolverton, a couple of miles from the Castle. And as Jane knew he would, Bax solicitously seated his mother and niece side by side, facing the horses.
Mercifully short, the journey meandered along picturesque lanes lined with folk waving, obviously delighted to wish their Duke and his new Duchess well on their wedding day. None of it distracted her from the man at her side, devastatingly handsome in a dark blue superfine, cutaway jacket over charcoal grey pantaloons and matching silk waistcoat embroidered with silver lions. A single watch fob hung at his waist and he wore no jewelery.
Whatever else he might be, she couldn’t accuse him of being foppish in any way. He was a man’s man and she liked that about him.
There was nothing she didn’t like about the damned man! Even his pursuit of her turned her inside out with delight—except it terrified her more. His regard meant more to her than she wanted it to, more than it ought.
Once he discovered she was a virgin he’d back off faster than a fox with a pack of hounds on its scent.
And her life would be empty. Meaningless.
Angela Jane Bracewell, you’re in deep trouble.
That knowledge didn’t help. If he found her hand under the folds of her gown and surreptitiously folded it in his, she’d let him even with his Mama and niece sitting directly opposite.
Thankfully he didn’t squeeze himself into the church pew beside her. She doubted she could sit still if he did.
The groom and best man waited at the front of the church and both acknowledged Bax’s brief salute before he took a seat somewhere at the back of the church. Even then she was so aware of him he might as well have been at her side.
The Duke looked nervous! An odd notion for a man who always seemed so contained. When the organ started playing and the Archbishop indicated they should stand, she would swear relief washed over his face. Then all eyes were on Sheri as she walked up the aisle, a vision in ice blue, silver and pearls. Jane couldn’t help wondering if she was as frozen as she appeared.
The Archbishop began intoning the age old words and exchange of vows, the same words spoken by her father over her and James. With that thought came memories of her wedding day. James, handsome in a mature way though already a little fragile, at her side. Her emotions had been far from those of a traditional bride. She’d already known theirs would be a platonic affair, and simply been filled with gratitude to James for saving her from the certainty of marriage to the squire.
Trouble is, James my love, you might have done me a service if you’d been able to overcome your scruples, or whatever they were, and bed me at least once!
Back at the Castle Jane settled in the middle of the Brisco family at a long table in the Great Hall. Young Basil and Robert were deemed old enough to attend the reception while three year old Samantha remained upstairs with her nurse. Seated between the boys, Jane felt at ease for the first time that day.
‘Here they are, Rose.’
That ease had lasted all of ten minutes.
‘Basil, Robert, there’s a children’s table set up over the other side and here’s your cousin, Rose, to take you over there. You’ll have better food and Briersley’s little dwarf steward to serve you.’
‘Really? Rosco’s here? Whoop! Come on, Rob! Rosco’s funny!’
As simply as that Hades demolished her barricades, pulled out Robert’s vacant chair and seated himself between her and Holly.
Did she dare get up and sit somewhere else entirely, thereby alerting the entire room full of guests there was something going on between her and Hades Delacourte? Did she plead a sick headache and retreat upstairs—and miss the rest of Sheri’s important day? Could she ask Lord Brisco, seated at Holly’s other side to change places?
Damn the man. She’d not give him the satisfaction of any reaction. She’d behave as if he were a mere acquaintance, one she didn’t like, she decided. Relief came as Lady Baxendene took the chair at her other side. Selena had settled at a table with a group of others more her age.
Lord Baxendene, seemingly delighted by his mother’s presence, leaned across Jane to ask how she was holding up. Scarcely a month had passed since she’d been at death’s door with pneumonia.
‘Very well, thank you, Haden. Certainly well enough to stay and see these two launched properly into marriage. They’re so perfect together one cannot but wonder what took them so long. Lady Jassie is a delightful young woman, but Sherida is a natural duchess. Makes Jassie look more like a hoyden.’
Bax laughed outright.
‘And so Jassie herself would say! She never did see herself as the Duchess, only ever as Windermere’s Countess, regardless Dom tried to convince her otherwise. He and Sheri? You’re right, Mama. They’re a perfect match.’
The tone of satisfaction in his voice sounded almost—proprietorial, as if he thought the credit for arranging that perfect match should go to him.
About to scoff inwardly at the thought, Jane had a sudden memory of something Sheri had said when they’d first met at Baxendene House, about ‘owing Bax a debt she hoped to repay some day’! She almost snorted aloud when she found herself wondering whether Sheri had meant she’d like to find him the perfect match as he had for her. The likelihood of the new Duchess of Wolverton having any success with that particular aim was extremely remote.
Cheering erupted as the bride and groom ente
red and settled at a table on the dais at the head of the huge room. There followed a touching ceremony of removing the arms of the previous duchess lower down the wall behind the dais and replacing it with Sheri’s family coat of arms.
Throughout the long meal that followed Lord Baxendene was propriety itself and Jane had to take herself sternly to task for being disappointed he never once brushed her shoulder with his or pressed his thigh against hers under the table. In fact, he was everything gentlemanly and polite.
Until the meal ended and the guests were requested to leave the tables so they could be cleared from the room to allow for dancing. As Hades assisted her to move away from the table he leant close and said, ‘I claim the first dance with you, Lady Rotherby.’
The words were polite, the tone of his voice deep and sensuous, and his breath warm by her ear.
‘And the supper dance,’ he added. ‘That’s always mine.’
Then stepping past her he assisted his mother to rise and saw her seated in a cozy corner of the great room with Windermere’s mother, Lady Olwynne, and Sheri’s mother, Lady Augusta.
Only when he started back towards her did she realize she’d been standing there staring after him like a ninny.
Well, a ninny she’d be. A wooden ninny!
When he came back to her side his attention was all for the couple taking to the floor to dance together for the first time as husband and wife. A slight frown marred his usually careless brow and shadows dimmed the mischievous glint in his eyes as he followed his cousin’s progress about the floor.
‘I hope he appreciates what he’s got,’ he muttered, then swept his gaze around the great medieval hall as if to be sure all was as it should be. When he brought his attention back to Jane the quirky half smile was curving those tempting lips again and the usual devilish gleam was lurking behind the smoky grey of his eyes. But he seemed to have lost a little of his natural ebullience and struggled to maintain his carelessly happy public demeanor.
Had he cared for Sheri? It wasn’t as if the Duke had stolen her from under his nose! She was near her twenty-fourth birthday. There’d been plenty of time for him to make his move if the wind had lain in that quarter.
‘I’d say the Duke seems appreciative of what he’s acquired this day,’ she answered a little tartly.
‘He should be,’ Bax muttered darkly, the frown returning like a dark cloud.
‘You sound jealous,’ Jane needled.
With a toss of his carelessly arranged black curls he laughed and once again the cloud vanished.
‘If I desired marriage, Jane, think you I’d be standing here at your side as rakishly free as I’ve always been? And always will,’ he added as if he thought she needed reminding of that fact—or he did.
Then as couples began joining the bride and groom, he took her into his arms and swept her onto the floor.
And fool that she was, her only thought was the fervent wish the dance might last all night.
He was propriety itself however, holding her at arm’s length from his person, making small innocuous comments about the castle and its history, and returning her to Holly, his mother and several other ladies with a perfectly executed bow.
‘Supper,’ he murmured as he rose and strode away across the room to stand in a corner with his cousins, Windermere and Knightsborough and several other gentlemen though he was rarely seen to contribute to the conversation.
Mostly he observed the room with a brooding gaze resting most often on Jane, or his other cousin, Wolverton.
‘Something ails my son,’ Lady Baxendene confided to Jane, leaning close so as not to be overheard. ‘Do you have any idea what it could be? It’s rare indeed he shows the world anything but a careless, devil-may-care disguise.’
‘I—I hadn’t really noticed anything out of the ordinary,’ Jane stammered, then felt heat flood her cheeks. Lady Baxendene shot her a perceptive glance then turned her attention back to the other guests in general and her son in particular. Jane had the uneasy feeling nothing much escaped the eagle eye of Lady Georgiana.
Were they giving themselves away? And if he didn’t stop glowering at her from across the room everyone was going to know there was something—oh damn him! She turned back to Holly who’d been discussing babies with Lady Jassie, Windermere’s wife, whom Jane had only met last night.
Holly confounded her by observing, ‘You’re quiet tonight, Jane, and you’re looking a little peaked.’
When Jane didn’t answer because she couldn’t think how to, Holly added with certainty, ‘If my brother is annoying you, you only have to tell him to back off and he will.’
Jane felt one eyebrow lift. She couldn’t help it. Holly loved her brother so much she could believe no harm of him.
‘I’ve tried,’ she admitted tersely at last. ‘He hasn’t. Backed off, that is. He’s become excruciatingly polite though.—He doesn’t worry me,’ she averred mendaciously. ‘I’m concerned about my sister. Sarah’s alone down in Dover and I feel the need to go and visit her. I’ll probably do so in a couple of days.’
Holly gave her a knowing smile then changed the subject to comment on the perfect picture the Wolverton’s presented, he so dark and she so fair.
***
One of the ancient oak tables had been pushed against the stone wall at the bottom end of the Great Hall, a well-worn form in front of it. Bax perched sideways on one end, legs astride and one elbow on the table propping his head up. Moodily he stared into his empty wine glass, thinking he’d prefer a good drop of whisky.
Focusing on that seemed the only way to keep from constantly scanning the moving crowd on the dance floor to see if Jane was dancing—and with whom.
‘Everything’s changing,’ came a gloomy observation from Knightsborough who sat facing the great room with his legs stretched before him and his elbows resting back on the table.
‘How?’ Bax asked, regardless he already knew. But one of them needed to talk for they’d been sitting in glum silence for too long. This was a wedding after all; a happy occasion—apparently. Trouble was, he didn’t feel happy. Worse, Knight had probably noticed.
‘Windermere’s gone. Haven’t seen him at the Matrix Club since he married. Probably won’t see Wolverton now either. Marriage changes a man!’
‘You think? Wouldn’t change me.’ Bax muttered, idly tracing ancient graffiti carved into the age-blackened surface of the massive tabletop. ‘I’d have to get married first and I doubt there’s a woman fool enough to put her head in that particular noose. If I were fool enough to ask her!’
He knew Knight had turned his all-seeing, black gaze on him, but Bax knew better than to meet his cousin’s stare. Knightsborough had an uncanny way of stripping a man’s soul bare, making him face the hidden, dark places within, while giving absolutely nothing away himself. Black eyes, shadowed and utterly impenetrable, he nevertheless emitted an aura of compassion, non-judgement, understanding.
A pity the man had never married and had children. He’d have been a great father. Then Bax was put in mind of another thing he should’ve remembered about this man. Silence didn’t mean he’d finished with you.
‘Why don’t you seek marriage? You need an heir, as Dom does.’
‘I have an heir. Jason left twin sons—’
‘Bah!’ Knight growled, and swung his legs over the form to sit with his back to the room and its swirling dance of bodies, colorful gowns and sparkling jewels. Cradling his wineglass in long, neatly manicured fingers, he fixed Bax with that unnerving black gaze. ‘When did you last see Jason’s sons?’
Bax felt his lungs inflate—painfully.
‘When they were six years old.’
‘How old are they now?’
‘Nine. She always has an excuse whenever I suggest a visit!’
‘Sire your own heir,’ Knight advised roughly.
‘That’s rich coming from you,’ Bax bit back. ‘Jason’s sons will inherit.’
‘What about the Rotherby widow? You’ve b
een sniffing round her ever since she came to town.’
Little that happened in society salons escaped Knight yet he spent his life sequestered in the dark halls of the Horse Guards or at the Matrix Club.
‘She’s not wanting to marry again.’
As soon as the words left his mouth Bax knew he’d given himself away by the sulky tone of his voice.
A rare huff of laughter escaped Knight.
‘And you want her! So what’s stopping you from bedding her? Not like you to take so long about these matters.’
‘Jane’s—not—like that!’
Knight’s mouth all but dropped open.
‘That’s never stopped you before!’
He returned to tracing the age-blackened symbols carved into the ancient surface of the table. Then he was laughing at himself.
‘I’ve tried,’ he admitted. ‘She’ll have none of me!’
‘She wants you though. I watched her while you were dancing earlier. Definitely not indifferent.’
‘There’s nothing indifferent about Angular Jane,’ Bax agreed with a sigh. ‘But she’s determined not to give in—and if I push too hard she’ll have nothing to do with me at all.’
‘And that—hasn’t put you off?’
Bax glanced sharply at his cousin. There was a hint of something in Knight’s voice to startle the hairs on the back of his neck.
‘What do you mean?’
But no answer was forthcoming beyond the arrogant lift of one dark eyebrow.
Behind them the emcee’s voice announced the supper dance. Bax surged to his feet with alacrity. He knew Knight was inferring he might actually be feeling something for Jane—which he did. He felt lust and he was in just the mood to do something about that.
***
Lady Jassinda Windermere was a delightful young woman and Jane was enjoying getting to know her better. Holly was regaling her with tales of Jane’s skill at caricature and creating personalized children’s tales and Jassie had declared a desire for one for Jonathan when he was a little older.
