by Joan Avery
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
Her heart skipped a beat. He was behind her and very close. While she had been enjoying the warmth of the sun, the others had paired off and she was far behind them, with the only unmatched member of the party, Lord Montgomery.
“It is.” She had to be calm. “And the sun is delightfully warm today. I had about given up hope of ever seeing it again.”
“The fog this year has been particularly troublesome. I think it is setting new records.” He took her arm and drew her forward to follow the others. “For someone unaccustomed, it must be unbearable.”
She panicked. Her brain was failing her. Certainly she should be able to carry on a polite conversation. But the feel of him, so close… The warmth of his hand on her arm… All of it brought back the sensations she had felt when he had kissed her.
She walked in abject silence, embarrassed by her inability to converse.
“Have you seen the arboretum yet?”
She finally found her voice. “No, not yet. I do hope to see it before I leave.”
“It’s a marvel. You should make a point of seeing it. It was built by the third duke in eighteen twenty-six and twenty-seven. It is a great favorite of mine.”
She couldn’t answer, once more at a loss for words.
“There you two are,” Lord Percy said. “Do come along. We’ll watch the ladies try their hand at it first.”
A large hay-filled target with colorful concentric rings had been set up. Bows and quivers of arrows sat at the ready.
“Edith, come. You must go first,” Lord Percy encouraged, handing his wife a bow and standing ready with several arrows.
Lady Edith objected, “I should be fronted several points, you realize, as my condition has no doubt put me off balance.”
“Nonsense. You are such an expert I believe you should offer the others some bonus points.”
Lady Edith smiled and shook her head at her husband’s backhanded compliment. She was about fifty feet from the target. For Victoria, it might have been a mile.
Lady Edith set the arrow, pulled back the bow, and with an expert eye let the arrow go flying. It just missed the absolute center of the target by an inch or two.
“Bravo. Now you, Lady Whitney?” Lord Percy held out the bow and Emily went to him. She seemed to know what she was doing.
Emily let fly an arrow and it landed with strength six inches out from Lady Edith’s.
“Miss Westwood?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve never mastered the sport.”
“You do not have to have mastered it to enjoy it,” Lord Montgomery said.
“Please, I will only embarrass myself.”
“Lord Montgomery can show you how it’s done, can’t you, Monty?” Lord Percy was being a little too helpful.
“No, please.”
Lord Montgomery approached her and spoke so only she could hear. “Are you afraid you’ll fail? I suspect you’re not accustomed to failing.”
It was a challenge, but it also struck too close to the truth. She wasn’t used to failing. She had always played to her strengths, not her weaknesses. She feared appearing frail or uninformed.
But she was not about to let the challenge go. She took in a breath. “If you insist.”
She took the bow and an arrow from Lord Percy, who stood with Lady Edith. How hard could it be? As long as she didn’t make a complete fool of herself.
She tried to remember what she had seen. She slotted the arrow with some trouble and pulled back, surprised by the strength it took to move the bowstring back toward her face. Then something went quickly and completely wrong. She pinched her finger and released the arrow before she was ready. The arrow barely made it ten feet before burying itself in the ground. She stood there mortified. She would not admit her embarrassment was made worse by the presence of Lord Montgomery.
“You just need some instruction,” Lord Percy offered kindly. “Monty, help the poor girl. She needs but a little encouragement.”
Victoria shook her head. She could deal with being mortified, but being too near to Lord Montgomery could be disastrous.
Everyone seemed to ignore her head shake. Lord Montgomery approached. “Face the target once again,” he instructed.
He retrieved the misfired arrow and handed it to her. Then he moved behind her and placed his arms around her, guiding her hands with his. His breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She could feel the heat of his whole length. It was completely distracting. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she might faint and further embarrass herself.
Damn him.
Why did he always catch her off guard, when she was least prepared? Now she was in his arms again with no means of escape. She tried to concentrate, but she was too rattled to do anything but follow his lead.
He helped her pull back the bowstring, and there was a moment’s expectation, tantalizing and exhilarating. It stopped her heart. Then the arrow flew. It hit the target in the outer ring.
She let out a breath of relief. He had not moved. It seemed to her he waited a moment longer than necessary before he backed away.
“Bravo. Bravo. You see, you simply need some practice,” Lord Percy said. “I don’t think we should embarrass Miss Westwood any further by forcing her into a sport with which she is unfamiliar. I see carriages with other guests are approaching and the men will no doubt want to go hunting immediately. You will have to leave us to our own devices, my dear.” He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
“As you wish, darling. As you wish,” Lady Edith replied.
Lord Percy, Lord Whitney, and Lord Montgomery headed toward the stables while the women walked slowly back to the house.
Victoria didn’t move immediately. Everything she had heard and felt only confused her more. Who was this man? And why did she react viscerally to his presence? If she wasn’t careful, it might be her undoing.
Chapter Fourteen
“I am surprised to see Lord Montgomery with us today,” the Duke of Northumberland said.
Ahead of them, beaters with dogs drove the unsuspecting pheasant, woodcock, and partridge into flight, only to be shot by the gentlemen who followed. Henry’s father paused to shoot, landing a plump partridge, which was quickly retrieved by one of the dogs.
“He so seldom comes to these affairs. Has something changed?”
Henry smiled. His father, at sixty-nine, rarely missed a thing. He was not, for example, unaware a late invitation had been sent out to a Miss Westwood.
“I think it is still too early to tell. I don’t know if he would acknowledge anything. Certainly not to himself.”
Henry lifted his gun and shot late, missing his quarry.
“He’s a good, decent man. Wealthy and renowned. He could have any woman he wanted. I’m surprised Edith hasn’t been able to arrange a good match.”
“It’s not for lack of trying, Father.” Henry laughed.
They both turned their attention to Lord Montgomery who was off to their right among a group of five other guests. Far to their left, another party was moving forward slowly.
“What is there about this woman that has all of them sniffing around her like dogs?” his father questioned rather indelicately.
“You’ll have to judge for yourself. I think you’ll find her intriguing. Intelligent, opinionated, a tad obstinate, and utterly gorgeous.”
“She’s a beauty no doubt. How did Stanford manage to ensnare her? He’s such a vile little man.”
Once more, a flock of pheasants took to the air and both men lifted their guns successfully.
“I gather her father entered into some kind of contract with him.” Henry stopped to reload, and his father stopped as well.
“Do you think it was wise to invite all three of them here at once?” his father asked somberly.
Henry laughed. “I think dueling went out decades ago. Poor manners might be the extent of any damage.”
“Well, if anything does happen, I will r
emember it was you, Henry, who persuaded your mother to invite the woman.”
“Think positively. It will provide a little entertainment for the rest of us.”
“But at what cost to them, I wonder?” His father once again grew somber.
…
Hugh was aware of Stanford. He had intentionally selected a group other than the one Stanford had chosen. He had taken a shot once or twice but his mind was not on hunting, at least not of birds.
Stanford thus far seemed unaware of his presence—or if he was aware of it, determined to give him no notice. It gave Hugh a chance to study the man. He had seen him a few times, mostly at the club. Stanford was always in the gaming room and usually drunk and losing. It seemed a house party, even at a duke’s home, did little to sober him up. He hadn’t hit a bird yet. Even now he sought out a flask inside his wrinkled tweed jacket.
The thought of this vile little man touching Miss Westwood turned Hugh’s stomach. Rarely had he had such a strong visceral reaction to one of his cases. He didn’t believe the rumors that swirled around the twosome. That she had had many lovers and he had used and abused her before she ended their engagement. It mattered little to the outcome of the case. But it deeply troubled him that the woman’s name had been sullied in such a way.
Stanford once again attempted a shot. This time he brought down a bird—as much from luck as skill. A dog retrieved it and brought it to one of the beaters, who approached Lord Stanford. As he showed the bird to Stanford, the excited dog jumped up after the bird.
“Damn it. Get that dog off me.” Stanford kicked the poor dog so hard the injured animal lay on the ground whimpering. It was totally uncalled for. A brutal act by a brutal man.
He would personally like to kick the man.
The beater apologized profusely and, when Stanford moved on, the dog’s handler went to console the poor animal.
The men were all drawing together from across the field as the hunt came to an end. Stanford’s mood hadn’t improved. He finally noticed Hugh.
“My lord, I didn’t realize you were here as well.”
He didn’t slur his words, but he had a nervous habit of rubbing the side of his head repeatedly if he was upset. It was most noticeable at the gaming tables, and it once again betrayed him.
“I want to know who invited that whore to this party. It’s bad enough a man has to sue to get his due but to have to socialize with the woman is beyond tolerable.”
Several of the men in his party tried to quiet him, but he continued in a loud voice as he approached Hugh. “She is a mongrel bitch with little or no breeding and ought to be put down before she causes anyone else the trouble she’s caused me.” Again, one of the men in his party tried to stop him but he shook the man off.
“I will not be silenced! A contract is a contract. If she thinks she is above the law, she will find out soon enough.”
Several of the men looked to Hugh.
“She is entitled to be heard in court, sir. I don’t think this conversation is helpful in any way.” Hugh’s anger was barely under control. Stanford, only a foot or so in front of him, seemed oblivious to this.
“Have you slept with her as well, my lord?”
Hugh’s punch, when it came, was unexpected and sent Stanford flying into the underbrush. No one in the group moved.
Hugh couldn’t move either, stunned by his own behavior.
It was the duke who finally spoke. “Gentlemen, as guests in my home, you will refrain from this kind of language and behavior. Is that clear?”
Both Hugh and Stanford nodded. Several men helped Stanford, who was still unsteady, to his feet. The pork-colored skin on the side of his face was already turning a bright red. It wouldn’t be surprising if, by morning, it would be black and blue—a colorful reminder of what had happened this afternoon.
With the duke’s warning still fresh, Stanford turned and stalked off toward the house.
Percy came up beside Hugh as the others slowly made their way toward the house. There was a glint in his eye and a barely suppressed smile.
“I would have done it if you hadn’t. The man is insufferable. Still, I have to say I was surprised by your attack.”
Percy waited for a response, and when none was forthcoming, he said, “I’ve never seen you so worked up about anything or anyone. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Let it go, Percy.”
“It seems I will have to. Father certainly was angry. I’m surprised he didn’t send Stanford packing. But then, I suppose he’d have to send you off as well.”
Hugh walked slowly toward the house. He was several hundred feet behind the others, having stayed a moment to collect his thoughts and calm his temper.
What the hell was happening to him?
He was in danger of losing the very reputation for evenhandedness he had so scrupulously built up over the last ten years. He had acted more like his father and that disturbed him deeply.
Stanford was a bully and a lout. But he knew that. Why then did his brutish comments elicit such a strong response from him?
The duke was right. His behavior was unacceptable and reprehensible. Instead of following the others, he headed toward a small copse of trees to the west of the house. The fog had still not returned. The air was actually less damp than earlier.
He had barely reached the stand of trees when a figure turned the corner of the house, obviously seeking the same destination. She hadn’t looked up yet. When she did, emotions came flooding back.
Emotions that had already led to more than one unforgivable lapse in judgment.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m sorry, your lordship, I didn’t know you were here. I wouldn’t have come had I known.” Victoria wasn’t prepared to see Lord Montgomery.
“No, don’t bother yourself about it. I was just enjoying the warmer temperatures.”
The earl looked a bit uncomfortable as well. Whether it was her presence alone or simply her unexpected arrival, she wasn’t sure. “I can leave, if you’d like.” She turned to go.
“No, not at all. Please…” He indicated a small bench placed in a position where the afternoon sun would fall full upon it.
Victoria had doubts about her previous outbursts and certainly didn’t want to aggravate the man further with additional ill-conceived words or actions. She chose her words carefully. “You seem disturbed. Is there anything I can do? I hope my presence here hasn’t caused you to reassess your own attendance at the party.”
“No, not at all. It is not unusual for me to socialize with those who are, for one reason or another, before my courts. We judges are all expected to be above personal bias.”
“I couldn’t be that sangfroid. I’m afraid my passions run far and deep.” She laughed.
“There is no need to be ashamed of one’s passions. It is only in showing them that we sometimes err,” he said.
“How is that a fault? To be honest and open about one’s feelings? I would think it would be a great advantage to know another’s true feelings about an issue. For example, it would be to my benefit to know your opinion on the rights of women as they currently stand in England.”
Lord Montgomery smiled. “Indeed, it might be to your advantage, which means my sharing them would show a preference for one side over the other.”
“And that would be unacceptable.” Victoria smiled as well, pleased they could banter easily. It was progress in the right direction.
Still, she had to drive away any memory of the feel of his embrace and the softness of his kiss. Certainly that night had to be an anomaly. And this morning at archery. It had to be merely her imagination. What else could she think? The earl had been described to her as emotionally reticent, a man of words rather than actions.
Whatever had possessed him in the past, they were clearly on a better footing. And she would not want to jeopardize her chances by alienating him further.
“Would it be inappropriate for me to ask about your family? I’m finding thin
gs so different here in England.”
“My family?”
Victoria leaned her head against the tree behind the bench. “Yes. For example, are your parents alive? Do you have any siblings? Nothing too personal, I assure you.” She added teasingly.
“My parents are both dead. I have two brothers. One is in the American West, the other on the island of Grenada in the West Indies.”
“I envy you your siblings, and yet they are so far away. Do you miss them?”
“They have been away so long, I cannot honestly say I miss them.”
“Why did they leave England?”
Something in his face tightened. Victoria had ventured into an area the earl evidently did not like to discuss. She herself had become all the more intrigued.
He ran a hand through his thick hair. For a moment she didn’t think he would answer her. There was a long pause before he spoke.
“My father drove them away.”
She could hear pain in his voice. It gave her an overriding urge to comfort him. She folded her hands tightly in her lap to prevent her from rising and going to him.
“How sad.”
“Yes, it was sad. My father was hard and unforgiving. He could be brutal at times. My brothers could only take so much before they fled.”
“But you stayed?”
A bitter smile and a shake of the head preceded his answer. “Yes, I stayed.”
“Do you regret that?”
He paused as if to consider his own actions once again. “No, I don’t regret it,” he finally answered.
She watched him closely. “It had to have taken a grave toll on you, on your spirit, to be abused so?”
“I had a reason to stay.” He seemed lost in thought. “A reason more powerful than my father’s hate.”
“And that was…” Victoria realized she had overstepped her bounds and regretted asking immediately. It was none of her business, but she wanted to know. It would help her understand the man who held her fate in his hands. Perhaps he would just ignore her question, or worse, rebuff her.
“There is only one thing more powerful than hate.”
