A Lot Like a Lady

by Kim Bowman

  “It might just be. I need to ascertain whether I’m correct, and if I find it so, determine the whereabouts of my stepsister.” He set his glass on the buffet. He needed to see to his remaining guests. “It might call for a trip to the country to see what in deuces is going on.”

  Jon angled his head. “If you find it inconvenient leaving, I wouldn’t be averse to a trip into Haselmere.”

  Grey let out a heavy sigh. “I would appreciate that, Jon. Until I know what’s going on, I would like to stay close to my, er… houseguest.”

  His friend raised his glass in salute. “I’m sure you would; she is a striking creature.”

  At the gaze Grey leveled on him, Jon cleared his throat.

  “Um… I can leave for the country first thing in the morning.”

  With a curt nod, Grey headed to the door. “I must attend to freeing my guests from Lucien.” He paused then turned back to his friend. “Jon, thank you.”

  Jon bowed. “You would do the same for me. I shall send word as soon as I learn anything.” Setting down his glass, he followed Grey. “If you will make my excuses, I’ll go home and prepare for my departure.”

  As he watched his friend leave, Grey’s thoughts drifted to the beautiful houseguest who had turned his dinner party upside down.

  Who are you? And what game are you and my real stepsister playing?

  Chapter Five

  Juliet glanced out the parlor window for the tenth time in as many minutes. The sun was high in the sky and the rays streaming through the window only heightened her frustration at being stuck indoors reading The Mirror of Graces when what she longed to do was see the new horse the duke was working.

  With a heavy sigh, she stood and walked the perimeter of the room, admiring the paintings and portraits, running her hand on the ivory keys of the pianoforte as she passed it. She hated the horses being so far away. She'd sneaked a look at the townhouse’s stables and the renovations underway would make them grand. But it would have been much nicer if she could visit the horses the way she'd been able to at home. In the country she'd spent much of her free time with them. Horses made the best friends sometimes. They listened to her when she thought out loud and never laughed when she got too dreamy.

  The new horse sounded magnificent. Spanish, she thought the duke had said. Juliet wanted to take a peek at him.

  Oh fluff. You want a good peek at his grace.

  No I don’t. He’s overbearing and cynical and—

  She sighed as a picture of him formed in her mind, with glinting eyes and that lock of hair spilling over his forehead.

  And amazingly handsome, and completely gallant when he came to my rescue at that disaster of a dinner party three nights ago, and gracious — well, maybe not too pleasant about it, but—

  Stop that!

  Well, you’re the one who thought it.

  I most certainly did not. You di— Oh great. Now you’re arguing with yourself, Juli— Annabella!

  She flopped back in the chair. All this sitting around drove her crazy. How the aristocrats did it was beyond her. Well, the duke didn’t. He spent every morning at the livery. He was much like his father in that respect. The old duke had often busied himself with the gardens and always took bits of carrots and apples to the stables. Juliet had found great joy in accompanying him to the barn, just to share his company. More so when she brushed the sleek shiny coats of the horses. She so missed the smell of dirt and hay. After having had the freedom to run barefoot through the grass, to pick daisies and weave them into her hair, to kiss the noses of the horses whenever she wanted, being stuck in the confines of the townhouse, learning the tedious rules of the ton, was torture.

  She sighed. Surely a trip to the stables wasn’t so much to ask. Not likely the ton would pay any mind to goings-on in a livery.

  The fresh air… the horses…

  Did his grace ever work with horses directly as his father once had? She pursed her lips. Was it possible Annabella had been wrong about the young Duke of Wyndham? He didn't seem as horrid now she’d gotten to know him some. Annabella had certainly been wrong about Alexander. He’d wanted nothing more than to care for the girl and her mother. She sighed. She did miss him.

  Loud wheezing interrupted her reflections and she glanced up. Percy hovered in the doorway for a moment, and on seeing her, ambled over for some attention.

  “How are you today, Lord Percy? Where’s your wily master? Out and about and probably forgot to walk you.” Juliet’s hand stilled on Percy’s head. A walk! She’d take the dog out for a late morning stroll. And if they just happened to walk by the livery where Grey was overseeing the work with his new horse, then…

  Juliet rose from the chair and raced up the stairs to change into a walking gown and bonnet, giddy at the thought of getting away from the stifling studies of propriety. When she returned, Lord Percy’s whole body wiggled and his wheezing increased to the point that Juliet was sure he would swoon.

  “Shh, Lord Percy. We don’t want to alert Charity and Harmony to our plans. I’m supposed to be reading the etiquette book until I can recite it word for word.” The dog just became more excited, so she hurried to attach his leash and slipped out the servants’ door.

  Once outside, she realized she only had a vague idea of where she was going. She’d caught a glance of his grace on his way out that morning, dressed in riding breeches and tall black boots. No carriage had been waiting, and he’d set off to the left, heading in the direction of the park in Lowndes Square. So she turned to go the same way.

  “Come along, Percy,” she urged, giving a gentle tug on the leash.

  With a grunt, Percy began walking. He seemed content to waddle next to her, although he plodded along far more slowly than she preferred. Normally, she loved to lift her face and let the sun warm her cheeks and the breeze tickle her hair, but tall buildings lined the narrow street, keeping much of it in shadow. They reminded Juliet a bit of the trees planted along the lanes at home, except at least those allowed lacy patterns of light through now and again. The row of stone townhouses behind the iron fences were too stark and cold for her taste. She shivered.

  Their lane ended at a cross street. Before her, a dark stone bell tower rose high above the front of a church. On three sides of the tower, sturdy pointed archways framing heavy wooden doors offered entrance to the sanctuary beyond. The magnificence of the cathedral at once intimidated her and left her breathless. An iron fence enclosed a small patch of green between the street and the building. A row of azalea hedges lined the inside of the fence, their dark buds just coming up on bursting open. By another few days, the tiny churchyard would be painted in brilliant hues of crimson.

  Ought she check with the aunts about attending church while they were in Town? Juliet had always gone with her mum, but Annabella herself seldom partook of services back in Haselmere. It might put an end to the charade right quickly if she appeared to develop a sudden desire to worry about her soul. Did Grey himself attend regularly? A shiver raced along Juliet’s spine at the thought of sharing the family pew with him and the aunts. Hopefully if she did so, she’d keep her wits about her and would not experience a repeat of that dreadful birthday dinner.

  When she reached the street’s end, the buildings seemed to drop away. At least she could see the slightly misty sky again. The rapid clip-clop of horses’ hooves startled her from her enthralled musings, and Juliet barely managed to yank Percy from the path of four matched dark horses drawing a shiny black carriage. The driver barely spared her a glance as they passed, but censure was apparent in his glittering eyes. The footmen, one on each side, kept their stony gazes straight ahead.

  She stared after the carriage in awe, and then realized it must be going to the livery — which was where she was heading. Without hesitation, she set off in the wake of the town coach. Heaving an impatient sigh, she restrained herself from tugging on Percy’s leash. The wheezing dog was not in the same hurry she was, preferring to snuffle and sniff every tree and fenc
e post along the way.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the barn came into view. Her heart picked up its pace to match her steps. Just as she came abreast of the building, her poise and calm faltered and she slowed. What was she doing here? She should turn around and go back to the townhouse. Lord Percy had other ideas and pulled on the leash so hard he almost jerked Juliet off her feet. Likely the animal’s nose had alerted him to Grey’s scent and he was intent on his prey. She suppressed a giggle at her own wit just as the dog gave a mighty lunge.

  “Percy, stop. Slow down,” she whispered as she tried to tug the dog back by the leash before they were noticed. She wrapped the leash around her hand several times to force the dog beside her. Once he relented, she bent down to the mongrel’s eye level. “Are you trying to get us in trouble for spying? Now mind your manners and be quiet.” After a quick pat on Percy’s head, she stood and scanned the back lot of the livery.

  Her eyes instantly found Grey, standing with his back to her, and her heart stuttered. His brown riding breeches and scuffed boots had seen better days, yet Grey wore them with the comfort of familiarity. Without a doubt they had stretched and molded to all those fine muscles in his legs to the point where he probably barely felt them. They certainly moved as though they were part of his skin. When he bent forward at the waist, the breeches stretched across his backside. Juliet closed her eyes, certain lightning would emerge from the sky at any moment and smite her for noticing.

  Standing there while she waited for a smiting was certain to draw unwelcome attention. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, grateful the duke had straightened where he stood. She drew deep slow breaths, willing her restless heart to stop stuttering in her chest.

  Grey’s shirt was covered in dirt and clung to his shoulders and back, emphasizing the taut muscles beneath, and Juliet caught her breath at his magnificence. Even in the worn, dirt-covered clothes, he carried himself with an air of nobility and authority that reminded her she’d better mind her steps or she’d find herself not only out of his home in London but cast out of his country home as well.

  Then she glanced over his shoulder and her eyes landed on the beautiful horse two men worked while he watched.

  Juliet stiffened her legs to stop the wobble in her knees. The horse’s long black mane shone in the morning sunlight, and when he swished his tail back and forth, the tips of the wavy hair swept the ground. His legs were so black and shiny they almost looked blue as they led up to a massive maroon-colored chest. The dark almost-black and deep maroon colors interchanged along the horse’s body, emphasizing his straight back and bulging muscles.

  He was breathtaking.

  The horse wore a training harness and a bridle with leather blinders on the sides of his head by the eyes, to keep him from seeing behind. A man in dark breeches held the reins in one hand as he clucked and spoke in a harsh voice to the horse, trying to get him to stand still and relax so the other man could maneuver the cart around and hook it to the harness.

  The horse was having none of it.

  Even through the thick wavy mass of hair covering his eyes, Juliet could see the defiant gleam that clearly said he had no intention of cooperating. Several times he pinned his ears and kicked at the unknown threat behind him, and then the wide-eyed groom holding the cart would move further back on the shaft, away from those flying heels. The trainer holding him lacked the gentle yet firm nature she remembered her own father using when training. Each time the stallion misbehaved, he jerked hard on the reins and all but growled at the poor animal. This only compounded the horse’s unease.

  “This is not working, Clyde. Just hold the cart still and I’ll see if I can keep his attention on me instead of what’s going on behind him, see if I can get him to back up,” the man said.

  Grey crossed his arms over his chest and let out an exasperated sigh. “Take your time, Arden. Don’t rush him. Give him a chance.”

  Juliet held her breath. If a shaft from the cart touched the horse and spooked him, he would surely bolt.

  “Easy, Satan. Easy.”

  The trainer’s words were softer but still edged with irritation, and the agitated horse flicked his ears. After what seemed like hours, Satan took a stiff, tentative step back. He stopped and bobbed his head up and down, then shook it and snorted. Arden again asked him to back, this time a little more forcefully, and the horse stomped his foot in protest. When the trainer’s request became more insistent, Satan reared and struck out. Arden released the lines and tumbled backward into the dirt. Once free, the horse charged straight toward the duke.

  “Grey!” Juliet screamed before she could stop herself.

  ****

  Satan raced toward him, but Grey held his ground, the thunder of lethal, pounding hooves filling his ears. He kept his attention focused squarely on the horse. At the last minute, Satan veered to the left and Grey sidestepped to the right, reaching for the bridle but missing it as the horse passed in a choking cloud of dust. He whirled, prepared to corner the horse and try again, but Satan came to an abrupt halt near the fence, shaking his head and snorting loudly.

  Grey slapped his leg in frustration, barely resisting the urge to throttle his trainer, as the man fumbled to his feet.

  “Arden, I told you to go easy with him, not to force him. Grab one of those small logs and fashion a line on it. We’ll attach it to the side of his harness and lead him around with it dragging beside him. Try to get him used to that first.”

  Turning his back on the heavy-handed trainer, Grey looked again at the errant stallion. Satan gave him a defiant whinny and began eating grass by the fence. The groom approached him with caution.

  “Careful not to spook him and cause the demon to run off, Clyde, or we might not catch him.”

  Grey let out a curse. For three days he’d watched Arden’s failed attempts to get the blasted horse hooked up to the cart. Satan performed beautifully when being worked on the ground, obeyed every command he was given. But he became a different animal altogether when it came time to move to the next step and teach him to pull the cart. After what he had just witnessed, it was obvious Grey needed to find a different trainer, or perhaps put off training until he could undertake the task himself.

  As he started toward the stallion, a movement to his left caught his attention. His houseguest stood by the side of the barn holding Percy’s leash. So his mind had not been playing tricks on him. He had heard the distinct sound of her voice calling to him. Careful, old man, lest you might come to believe she has a care about what happens to you.

  ”An — er — Annabella…” The name left a bitter taste on his tongue. “What are you doing here?” And why does she have Lucien’s accursed mongrel?

  Her pale pink dress reminded him of the roses that twisted over the arbor at the gate to Wyndham Green. Grey paused, waiting for the customary pang of sadness that usually accompanied thoughts of his childhood home, but none came. Instead, he found himself taking note of the way her wine-colored bonnet had slipped from her head to hang down her back by the white ribbon that tied it in place. She wore her hair loose again. It was unfashionable but it fell in glorious waves to embrace her shoulders, its golden sheen reflecting the watery sun. He half lifted a hand as though to touch it.

  My word, but she is stunning. Quite unexpectedly, he wondered what she thought of his home in the country. Did she enjoy living there? She certainly was out of place in the city. But he could picture her walking along the lanes at Wyndham Green, a happy smile lifting her lips, like the one he sometimes caught sight of when she was unaware he was watching.

  The wind ruffled the fabric of her dress, revealing a bit of one ankle below the white lace edging. Instead of shivering in the chill, she allowed the breeze to capture her white muslin shawl and it puffed out briefly before she turned loose of one end and let it trail along the ground.

  Grey’s heart gave a jolt and then took off in a mad dash, sending molten heat through his veins with every hard thump against his chest. He sh
ook his head against the drunken sensation. Thoughts like those swamping his mind were wholly inappropriate. Irritation at the spell she had managed to weave over him edged into his consciousness.

  Bending, the girl tied the end of the dog’s leash to the bottom of the watering trough by the barn and then stood and joined him. “I’m sorry, your grace. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was taking Percy for a walk— Is the horse uninjured?”

  Grey straightened his back, placed his hands on his hips, and raised an eyebrow. “I think he fares better than I. Have you no concern for your brother?”

  She had the grace to blush and avert her eyes. “Of course, your grace. I’m sorry. It’s just that… well… he doesn’t like… that is to say he… um… he—”

  Grey frowned at the stammering young lady standing before him, clutching one of the satin ribbons that trailed from the gathering of her dress beneath her breasts, and irritation sparked that she could apparently not form a complete sentence while in his presence. “I do not have all day. Out with it.”

  She stiffened and raised her eyes to his. Her eyebrows were drawn together ever so slightly, indicating her frustration and annoyance at his tone. “The horse isn’t happy, your grace.”

  Grey crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her, his curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

  The groom collected Satan and returned, keeping a tight grip on the reins.

  “Hello, my name’s — Annabella Price. You have a wonderful way with a horse.” She favored the man with one of her beaming smiles. “What might your name be?”

  “It’s Clyde, m’lady,” the groom said, his face alight with a grin.

  She spoke with ease, treating the man with almost casual familiarity, and it prickled at the back of Grey’s mind. His chest tightened and he cleared his throat.

  Annabella, if that was indeed who she was, fixed her gaze on his horse, and her demeanor changed. Her eyes took on an excited shine and softened all at once. She tentatively reached out her hand, palm up, and placed it below the horse’s nostrils. To Grey’s amazement, Satan’s ears twitched in interest and he lowered his nose, sniffing her hand. When he touched her palm, she slipped her fingers onto his nose and rubbed. Satan’s whole body relaxed and he gave himself over to her affectionate pats.