by Diana Bold
Alec rode forward, ready to protect her, but she motioned him back, signaling that Captain Blake was a friend. The young man fell back to give them some privacy, yet remained close enough to provide proper chaperonage if anyone else should happen by.
“Hello, Captain Blake.” Natalia gazed at him as he fell in beside her, noticing how fine his muscular thighs looked in his buff trousers. He wore high black boots and an emerald riding jacket, his handsome face flushed with healthy color.
He grinned at her intense perusal and returned her interest tenfold. His smoky gaze settled overlong on her bosom, even though her smart blue riding habit was quite modest. Blushing, she looked away.
“I didn’t really expect to see you here this morning. I thought you’d come to your senses and change your mind,” he said, energy and excitement in his voice.
She gave a breathless laugh, feeling a sense of freedom she’d never known before. “Well, apparently, I’m not a very sensible girl.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed, though he seemed to appreciate her spunk. “But if you have to be foolish over something, I’m glad you’ve chosen to be foolish over me.” He cocked his dark head toward Alec. “Are you certain he won’t run and tell tales to your father?”
“He won’t say anything,” Natalia assured him. She and Alec were great friends, and she could count on the young groom to keep his mouth shut. This time. She was safe as long as she and Captain Blake didn’t make this a habit.
For a moment, they rode in silence, while Natalia cast about for something to say. She’d invited him on the pretext of discussing the war, but she didn’t think he wanted to talk about his painful experiences.
Reaching over, she patted his gelding’s neck. “What a fine animal. Did he travel to the Crimea with you?” There. She’d given him an opening. Now it was up to him.
Regret flickered in his eyes. “This spirited young thing belongs to my friend, the Earl of Basingstoke. I had to sell mine. Couldn’t afford the upkeep.”
He’d given up the horse that carried him through battle? She wanted to ask why he hadn’t stabled the animal with his father but feared making another blunder. Everyone knew he and his father weren’t on the best of terms.
Another silence fell between them, and Natalia cursed her lack of conversational skill. He must think her a complete lackwit.
“You still haven’t danced with me,” he said at last, sparing her the need to think of something else to say. “Do you plan to remedy that in the near future?”
She gave him a sidelong look. Why was he so fixated on dancing with her? Not that a dance wouldn’t be nice, but she was far more interested in the other things he’d mentioned. Passion... kisses...
“Of course, I’ll dance with you. I’ll dance with you the very next time I have the opportunity.”
“Dance with me twice.” He stared at her with breathtaking intensity, pushing her to break her own self-imposed rule, obviously wanting her to publicly state her preference for him in the only way that she could.
“All right. Twice.” There would be gossip, but she didn’t care. Let her father think on that for a while. Perhaps he’d realize character meant far more to her than any title.
Her answer seemed to release some of Captain Blake’s earlier tension, but his gaze dropped a bit wistfully to her mouth. “I suppose I’ll have to be content with my dances. But it’s going to be more difficult than I ever imagined, to see you on my brother’s arm and pretend I never wanted you for my own.”
His words made her want to weep with the injustice of it all. Life was so unfair! She didn’t want to marry a prince, nor the heir to some foolish title. She wanted this man, with his heroic heart, wounded soul, and beautiful mouth.
Perhaps, if she told her father what she really wanted—how much she cared for Captain Blake... It would be a risk, but what could it hurt to try?
Of course, even if the captain had her father’s blessing, he might not want to marry her. He might be charming her just to see if he could.
The thought made her frown and tighten her fist on the reins. She wouldn’t believe that, not until he gave her some reason to doubt him.
“You needn’t worry. My father already has plans for me, and they don’t include your brother.”
He reached over and touched her gloved hand with his own, coaxing her to look at him. “What do you mean?”
She sighed and glanced back at Alec, knowing she didn’t have much time. In just a few more minutes, she’d have to say goodbye and she still hadn’t managed to learn anything new about her fascinating companion.
“I’m going to wed one of my mother’s Russian cousins. My father has the mistaken idea I want to be a princess.”
They’d reached the edge of the trees. He drew up his horse and stared at her with those intense gray eyes. “What do you want, Natalia? What would it take to make you happy?”
I want to be a captain’s wife. I want a quiet life in the country with a man who loves me. I want to leave Society and all its rules behind.
But she wasn’t brave enough to admit such things. Not when she still didn’t know if he felt the same. Not until she’d spoken with her father and tried to make her foolish fantasy into something besides an impossible dream.
“I’ll probably never have what I want.” She smiled wistfully and glanced back at Alec, who looked more than a little nervous at the length of their chat. “And I fear it’s time for me to go.”
“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” With hidden movements of his strong thighs, he coaxed his horse to make an elegant bow.
She laughed, enchanted. His equestrian skills went beyond riding into battle.
“Until we meet again then,” he told her, his voice an intimate caress. “And don’t forget about the dances.”
“I won’t.” She let her gaze drop to his mouth and wished with all her heart for just five minutes alone with him.
“Goodbye. I’ll see you soon.” He reached out and squeezed her hand once more, then whirled his horse and disappeared through the trees.
Chapter Seven
Natalia wasn’t surprised to find herself paired with Viscount Sherbourne at the elegant dinner party her father gave at his London townhouse on Wednesday night. She and the viscount were of roughly the same rank, after all, and Clarice had been in charge of the seating arrangements.
Her father gave her an approving smile as she entered the dining room on Michael Blake’s arm. Natalia had rarely been the focus of the duke’s approval, so she had no idea how to react. Apparently, Clarice’s plan to marry her off to Sherbourne had a chance of success, a fact that only made things more complicated.
The huge, vaulted dining room boasted a table that would seat thirty. Crystal chandeliers bathed the elaborate dinner service in a warm glow, and her companion looked particularly handsome tonight as he pulled out her chair. As far as respective husbands went, Viscount Sherbourne truly was the pick of the litter. He was like her in so many ways, and they got along very well. She imagined kissing him would be pleasant, and she could easily imagine sharing her life with him.
There was only one little problem... Captain Blake.
His presence here tonight was a surprise. She couldn’t imagine how he’d finagled an invitation, unless he’d managed to charm the duchess. Or perhaps Clarice thought it would please Sherbourne to have his brother present.
She would be horrified to know he was the very man she’d warned Natalia about.
In any event, Captain Blake was here, and it was impossible for Natalia to think about anything else. She had not expected to see him so soon after their meeting in the park.
Anticipation hummed through her veins. She couldn’t wait until dinner ended and the dancing began. Even now, she could feel the captain’s burning gaze on the back of her neck. It was all she could do to keep from turning around.
Diners of lower rank continued to file into the room, and Sherbourne tensed beside her. She raised an inquisitive brow,
and he nodded over her shoulder toward the open doorway.
“I didn’t know my brother had been invited.” He sounded surprised and a little dismayed. “There he is, behind you, escorting Miss Marks.”
She followed Sherbourne’s gaze and attempted to appear as if she hadn’t noticed the captain’s presence. He’d abandoned his military dress and looked stunning in austere black evening wear. The somber color made him even more handsome and mysterious than usual.
The gorgeous American heiress on his arm had somehow managed to gain the support of the young Prince of Wales. Her dazzling emerald gown was inappropriate for an unmarried girl but complemented her black hair and dark eyes perfectly. Natalia’s pale peach gown seemed downright dowdy in comparison.
Jealousy and doubt seared through Natalia as she stared at the handsome couple. Did Captain Blake also whisper sweet endearments to Emma Marks? Had he kissed her?
Given the frustrated look on Miss Marks’s lovely face, the answer seemed to be no. The captain wasn’t paying any attention to his attractive dinner companion. Instead, his concentration focused wholly on Natalia.
This evidence of his continued interest caused a familiar warmth low in the pit of her stomach. She hoped she wasn’t blushing as deeply as she feared. “Dylan and I have met.” His given name flowed off her tongue before she could stop it.
Captain Blake, she reminded herself harshly, but it was too late.
“Dylan?” Sherbourne frowned and glanced back and forth between them, obviously trying to figure out how they knew each other.
Dylan grinned. He met his brother’s gaze for a long, tension-filled moment, and then glanced back toward Natalia. “Dance with me.” He mouthed the words, but Natalia could understand them all too clearly.
“What did he say?” For the first time since she’d met him, Sherbourne’s bland mask fell away, and fierce emotion filled his blue eyes. “What is going on between the two of you?”
She sensed his disapproval and knew he saw beyond her façade of dutiful obedience and respectability. “There’s nothing between us. He’s asked me to dance a few times, but I’ve always turned him down.”
“I’ll speak to him about it,” Sherbourne said. “He won’t bother you again.”
A footman stepped between them to fill their wine glasses, and Natalia took that moment to compose herself. By the time the footman moved away, she’d managed to paste a smile on her face. “You needn’t bother, Lord Sherbourne. I’m sure your brother’s perfectly harmless.”
She risked a quick look down the table and was pleased to see her cousin, Nigel, on Miss Marks’s other side. Nigel might be without a title at the moment, but if the duke and Clarice were unable to produce an heir, Nigel would be next in line to inherit her father’s. Nigel always looked out for his own interests, and marriage to someone like Miss Marks would be quite a boon. That way, he could maintain his accustomed lifestyle even if Clarice did manage to conceive a son.
Come on, Nigel. Be your usual arrogant self. Monopolize the conversation. She didn’t want Captain Blake to fall under the spell of Miss Marks’s many charms.
As dinner progressed, the conversation drifted on to other, safer topics, but Natalia could tell Sherbourne was still perplexed about what had transpired between her and the captain. Every few minutes, he sent a penetrating glance in his brother’s direction, and Natalia knew he wouldn’t leave the matter alone.
Apparently, he thought his brother had trespassed. Natalia felt a surge of guilt when she realized her own reckless actions had given Sherbourne the idea she cared more for him than she truly did.
She should never have allowed him to call on her.
But the damage was already done. All she could do now was try to let him know, in the kindest way possible, that her cap was set for his younger brother.
Society’s rules exhausted her. For too long, she’d hidden her true thoughts and emotions and let her father’s will carry her helplessly along.
Well, no more.
Tonight, she was going to dance with Dylan Blake. In fact, she was going to dance with him twice. Two waltzes.
She’d deal with the consequences tomorrow.
DYLAN BROODED OVER his dinner. He ignored the inane chatter of his companion, Miss Emma Marks, while cursing the fate that destined her to be his dinner partner.
“So, your father is an earl.” Emma gazed at him in rapt delight. “Does that mean you’ll be one, too, someday?”
The American was striking, but her accent grated on his nerves, as did her admiration of the class system that was the bane of his existence. Apparently, the foolish chit planned to sell herself into marriage to get a title of her very own.
“Only if his older brother dies young,” Nigel Sinclair interrupted caustically. Seated on Miss Marks’s other side, Natalia’s cousin had been making snide comments about Dylan ever since they’d sat down. Usually, Dylan would have been furious, but under the circumstances, he didn’t mind. His thoughts centered on Natalia.
Still, he wondered a bit of his own disinterest. After all, Miss Marks’s dowry was rumored to be even larger than Natalia’s. And he would have to find a wife of his own, once he’d won the bet with Jonathan and secured the funds he needed for a courtship.
It would be so easy to dupe the lovely little American into believing his social status was higher than it actually was. He could play up the VC, imply a knighthood might be forthcoming.
He stole a quick glance in Miss Marks’s direction and knew he could do much worse. She was breathtaking.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t Natalia Sinclair.
That thought brought him up short. And he realized with dazzling clarity that he’d let himself get far too involved with the duke’s daughter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” Miss Marks gave him an apologetic little smile. Despite her apparent polish, she didn’t seem comfortable in Society.
He felt sorry for her and wondered whether she hunted a title of her own accord or if her parents pressured her. He’d heard stories about her ruthless and vicious father. Had Black Jack Marks sent his daughter here to obtain the social cache all his gold mines and railroads couldn’t buy him back in New York City?
Did they realize when she succeeded her millions would be spent to replace the roof of some moldering family pile instead of on expensive gowns and jewels? Far better to keep her money in America, where one’s potential wasn’t based upon the order of his birth.
At last, Emma allowed herself to be drawn into conversation with Sinclair, and Dylan concentrated his attention on the head of the table. His brother and Lady Natalia sat near the duke and duchess. Dylan had been relegated toward the very bottom with others of no particular social significance.
He supposed he should have felt privileged to have received an invitation at all. Luckily, the Duchess of Clayton was almost as easy to charm as his landlady.
Natalia and Michael seemed to be getting along quite well, although from time to time, Michael sent Dylan a calculating glance. Clearly, Michael understood he wasn’t the only Blake interested in the fair Natalia.
With a moody sigh, Dylan quit watching them. He couldn’t thwart Michael’s success from this end of the table. Unfortunately, his gaze rested upon Jonathan Taylor, who held up two fingers and gave him an arrogant smirk.
Two more days.
If Dylan didn’t get Natalia to agree to dance with him tonight, he’d lose the bet; he wouldn’t attend another social event with her until after Jonathan’s deadline passed. Dylan gave his old schoolmate a simmering glare, and Jonathan had the good sense to look away. Dylan glanced back at Natalia, feeling guilty for his deception but more resolved than ever.
The dancing couldn’t possibly start soon enough.
Chapter Eight
After dinner, the small party adjourned to the ballroom, where a string quartet was tuning up behind a screen of potted palms. Dylan headed toward Natalia with single-minded determination, but Michael intercepted him.
“I need to talk to you.” With a frown, Michael steered Dylan back the way he had come.
“What is it this time? Has Father sent you?” Dylan feigned ignorance, wanting to postpone the imminent lecture for as long as possible.
Michael shook his head and led Dylan down a long hallway. He stopped at the first open door, peered inside, and then beckoned Dylan to follow.
Dylan found himself in a small feminine sitting room, dimly lit by one small gaslight in the corner. A dainty piece of embroidery laid over the arm of an upholstered chair. He traced the delicate leaves and vines with his fingertip, wondering if Natalia had been the one to leave it there.
“I never should have told you I was pursuing Lady Natalia.” Closing the door, Michael leaned against the wall and fixed Dylan with a glare. “Do you find this amusing? Scheming to steal away her affection? Risking her reputation by whispering lewd suggestions across a crowded room?”
“I asked her to dance. I’d hardly call that a lewd suggestion.”
Michael speared one hand through his perfectly arranged hair. Dylan had never seen him so agitated. “Why are you doing this? Does everything between us have to be a competition?”
Michael’s barb stung, as he’d no doubt known it would. Dylan wondered if his brother regarded him the way he had Jonathan all these years. A pathetic little sod, always nipping unsuccessfully at his heels.
He hated the image but realized it was probably accurate. Still, he wasn’t about to give up. Not now, not while there was still a chance he might win the wager. “Our father has been pitting us against each other since the day I was born. It is a miracle we haven’t gone after the same girl before.”
Michael shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Listen to yourself. Surely, you don’t think you stand a chance at winning her hand? She’s the Duke of Clayton’s daughter!”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Dylan glared at his brother, hating Michael’s smug assurance. “I know the limitations of my position better than anyone. How could a penniless younger son possibly win against you, the future earl?”
