No Ordinary Groom

by Gayle Callen

  Ever since her debut four years before, she had never minced words with a suitor, or only spoken of the weather or the Season. A woman with opinions of her own drove off many a man.

  But not William.

  And it frightened, yet fascinated, her.

  After washing and dressing, she went down to the breakfast parlor and found only men milling around at the sideboard of food, or seated at the long, linen-draped table. When they all stood up immediately upon seeing her, she smiled and nodded, and they all went back to eating and talking.

  Except William. He gave her a slow, intimate smile, using his dimples to their full advantage. Even her breathing seemed arrested, and she wished he did not affect her so. He was wearing a waist-length frock coat with small tails, surely for riding, but its practicality could not hide the fact that it made his shoulders seem quite broad, and his hips trim. Above high riding boots, he wore his trousers fashionably snug as usual. She quickly slid her gaze from that area. He walked to her, took her hands and kissed the backs.

  “My dearest Jane,” he murmured in a soft voice. “If it helps, I much preferred your previous garment.”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “And would you have me wear my night clothes before all of your new friends?”

  His grin turned wolfish. “Such a sight is for my eyes only. If any man here saw you like that, I would have to kill him.”

  She deliberately widened her eyes. “I cannot believe a gentleman such as yourself knows anything about dueling.”

  “Are you questioning my manly skills?” he asked with playful affront.

  She hesitated, glancing at his mouth. “You might have some.”

  Jane was appalled with herself—was she actually flirting with him, this man she didn’t want to marry? Before she could back away and distance herself, the Duke of Kelthorpe joined them. She curtsied, and he nodded.

  “Good day, Miss Whittington. Your Lord Chadwick was just wondering if he would see you this morning before we departed. And by the look on his face, I can tell that your presence has cheered his day.”

  Jane dipped her head and tried not to show her skepticism. She’d sooner believe William only wanted to remind her again not to stray from the manor. He always tried to exert his power over her, and his surprising charm was hard to resist.

  “You are too kind, Your Grace,” she said.

  “Watching the two of you eases my own marriage concerns.”

  “You’re getting married, Your Grace?”

  William spoke a bit too quickly, she thought with curiosity. Why should he care?

  The duke laughed. “Nothing official to report yet, but the possibility is strengthening. Miss Whittington, have a pleasant morning. Chadwick, I’ll see you outside.”

  Silently, William stood beside her and gazed after the duke. Although William still wore a smile, his eyes seemed…distant, preoccupied.

  Jane studied him. “I wonder which lucky young lady has caught his attention.”

  “She’s not here this weekend,” he answered in an absent fashion, his attention still on the duke.

  “You know her?”

  William’s eyes focused on her. “I’m not certain. The duke only mentioned that the woman he was interested in probably wouldn’t be joining us. And if she were here, don’t you think they would be together? He didn’t favor any lady except his sister last evening.”

  His smile brightened, and he nodded toward the sideboard crowded with steaming tureens. “Can I fetch you breakfast? It is much too arduous a task for a delicate lady such as yourself.”

  Her smile was reluctant but inevitable. “You don’t know my preferences.”

  “Then I’ll stand here and hold your plate, keeping very close eye on your favorite foods. I’ll memorize them, of course, in preparation for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

  She bit her lip to hide her laughter. It was becoming far too easy for him to make her smile. She allowed him to wait on her because it was easier than making a scene. He ate his own breakfast seated next to her, and he kept trying to make her laugh by whispering about certain men in the room and why their garments spoke volumes about them.

  When it was time for the hunters to leave, William left the breakfast parlor, then came back a few minutes later with Killer in the crook of his elbow.

  “Is that dog going on the hunt?” demanded Lord Dudley, a man whom Jane couldn’t help but notice the previous evening, when he’d often drowned out any other conversation at the dinner table. “I don’t want him upsetting my dog.”

  “I’m not hunting today, so neither is Killer,” William called as the large group worked its way toward the front door. Then he smiled. “You brought your own hound?”

  Lord Dudley’s mustache twitched as he talked. “I brought several. They’re all rare breeds, specially trained for the various sports.” He eyed William slyly. “Not hunting, eh? Don’t trust your skills?”

  “You need all that much skill to follow your dog to a frightened little fox?”

  Jane shared an amused glance with William, feeling a kinship she hadn’t thought possible. Killer growled and shook the floppy fur out of his eyes. For once, she almost wanted to defend the little dog.

  Lord Dudley eyed William’s pet. “What sort of name is Killer for that rat? You need a real dog to hunt.”

  William drew on his gloves, and Jane followed him through the great hall toward the front door. “As I said before, I’m not hunting, but fishing. Wish me luck.”

  Lord Dudley rudely shouldered his way past them out the door.

  Jane followed the rest of the men across the portico and out onto the graveled front drive, where grooms held the reins of at least a dozen horses. There were hounds baying in the distance, and she squinted to see the huntsmen lead them out into the fields, toward a far stand of trees. The sun felt warm, and the air was heavy with the oddly matched smells of horses and roses.

  She watched from the front stairs as William walked to a groom who carried fishing tackle.

  Glancing back at her, William said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to join me, Miss Whittington? Hunting cannot hold a candle to the gentlemanly sport of fishing.”

  Several men around him snorted and rolled their eyes, but it was mostly good-natured teasing.

  “I think not, Lord Chadwick. I have several letters to write. I’ll see you at luncheon.”

  With a shrug, he found a horse and swung up into the saddle. The groom put the fishing tackle into a saddlebag, and William tucked the pole under his left arm and settled Killer there as well. Then with a last wave at her, he guided the horse about and rode off with the other men.

  Jane wasn’t sure what she’d expected of his horsemanship, for a non-hunting man not born into the nobility. He would at least be adequate in the saddle. Yet she found herself amazed at the effortless way he moved as one with the animal, with a physical masculinity that quite…overwhelmed her. The day seemed suddenly too warm, almost tempting her to fan her face.

  She was disturbed by these feelings she couldn’t name, this confusion that clouded her mind when she thought of William Chadwick. Where was the dislike she’d had for him just a week ago? Now he made her laugh, and she found it wasn’t so arduous to be in his company.

  Surely the mysteries surrounding him were all that interested her.

  Jane went back inside the manor, where only servants moved about, performing their duties. Since it was not even eight o’clock, the other ladies had yet to rise. Feeling restless, yet determined to make the best of the situation, she went into the library, sat down at one of the many small desks scattered about the immense book-lined room, and began a letter to her mother.

  To relieve the boredom, she willingly went with the other ladies to picnic with the men at noontime. While eating lobster mousse and salmon soufflés, she listened to the recitation of who jumped what hedge, who fell from his horse where, and which hound cornered the fox. When the bragging was over, William did his best to amuse her, but his r
estrictions limiting her weekend were beginning to fray her temper. She felt rebellious at the thought of playing card games with the ladies for the afternoon. But at least there was a new distraction when the women returned to the manor.

  Lady Harriet, the duke’s sister, who had remained behind instead of attending the luncheon, found Jane as the other women were dispersing through the household. She held the arm of someone Jane hadn’t seen before. The woman was tall and robust, with hair so blond as to be almost white, and a frank, easy smile that seemed refreshing after being with so many timid, proper young ladies.

  “Miss Whittington,” Lady Harriet said, “this is Miss Julia Reed, the woman who might bring my brother to the altar.”

  Chapter 13

  Jane shook hands with Miss Reed. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Lady Harriet smiled. “Miss Reed, this is Miss Jane Whittington, one of my brother’s guests. Her intended is Lord Chadwick. Do you know of him?”

  Miss Reed shook her head. “No, but that is not unusual. Before this past year, I’d been gone from England for much of the time.”

  Lady Harriet gave a sad sigh. “She never even had a true Season until this year!”

  “And I was far too old for that,” Miss Reed scolded with obvious fondness.

  Lady Harriet only waved her hand. “Every girl deserves a Season. Miss Reed’s brother was in the military in India, and she spent much of her life there. Can you imagine?”

  Jane found herself studying the newcomer with interest. “I find that quite fascinating, Miss Reed. I’ve always wanted to travel extensively, but never thought I’d be able to manage visiting so remote a country. I would enjoy talking to you about it.”

  Miss Reed smiled. “I must admit, Miss Whittington, you are the first lady to say such a thing to me. My brother, General Reed, warned me that our unusual lifestyle would not be a favorite topic among ladies, and he was correct.”

  “Then I’ll warn you that you’ll have to stop my questions when you’re tired of them.”

  Lady Harriet looked bemused. “It is a shame you’ll only be with us two nights, Miss Reed. It is far too little time to become well acquainted with Miss Whittington and the rest of our guests.”

  “It is tempting to stay, but I must leave on family business,” Miss Reed said with a sigh.

  Jane happily recognized the opportunity for an educating conversation. “Miss Reed, after you’ve refreshed yourself, would you perhaps like to walk about the grounds with me?”

  The woman smiled. “That sounds lovely. Just let me change out of my traveling clothes.”

  “Please take your time, Miss Reed. I’ll be waiting in the library.”

  When Will returned to Langley Manor, he changed clothes, dropped Killer into a tired heap on his bed, and then went to find Jane. She wasn’t in the library, where several women were reading or writing, nor was she in the drawing room, where women were playing cards. He found Lady Harriet there and waited until she’d played her hand before speaking to her.

  “Lady Harriet, have you seen Miss Whittington?”

  She glanced from him to the other three ladies, who all tried to hide their smiles. “Lord Chadwick, you are so obviously enamored of your betrothed that it is a wonder you went with the men at all today.”

  “It wouldn’t do for Miss Whittington to think I want to spend all my time with her.” He lowered his voice. “Even if it’s the truth.”

  Several of the women sighed and glanced at each other with approval.

  Lady Harriet gave him a fond smile, a very wise one for someone of her young years. “Miss Whittington went for a stroll with our newest guest. Perhaps my brother mentioned Miss Reed to you?”

  For a moment, Will found himself simply blinking at the girl. “Miss Reed?”

  “Miss Julia Reed. She and the duke have an…understanding.”

  Several of the women giggled and leaned together to whisper.

  He forced a polite smile, while his heart began to beat at a more rapid pace. He did not quite understand what he was feeling, for he was unused to the sensation, but it must be—panic.

  Jane had gone off with Julia Reed, a traitor to England, and a woman who thought nothing of causing the deaths of thousands of people.

  As he bowed and took his leave of the ladies, a distant part of him wondered where his cool head had gone. Even under threat of certain death, he’d always felt a calm fatalism: if he was meant to die, it would happen, so why bother worrying?

  Julia Reed didn’t know Jane and had no reason to harm her—especially not at the home of her future husband. He should not have this strange sensation of panic, this feeling that his throat was too tight to swallow.

  But—my God, he’d endangered Jane already.

  The grounds of Langley Manor stretched out for dozens of acres. There were glades of rhododendrons, magnolia and camellia, and off in the distance was a pavilion for daytime luncheons and evening dancing. Will discovered a maze, and although he called Jane’s name into the shrubbery, he received no answer. At a meadow where several women were playing croquet, he finally heard that Miss Whittington and Miss Reed had been seen walking toward the archery fields behind the orchard.

  Archery fields? Will’s strides lengthened.

  When he rounded the bend of an ornamental pond with a wooded glade at one end, he saw two women far to his right at the end of a field. To his left, round archery targets were set up. He saw Jane’s sunny yellow gown and heard a sudden burst of her rare laughter. Feeling foolish, he slowed his pace and approached the field.

  Although Jane was not a small woman, Julia Reed was almost half a head taller and of a more solid build. She held the bow with a competency that made her look like a woman who could defend herself. Jane let fly with her own arrow, which hit the lower edge of the target. Julia responded, but Will was not quite close enough to hear what they were saying.

  As Julia smiled and brought her bow up to aim, there was a sudden gunshot, and she jerked her bow to the left. Will flung himself to the side and felt a stinging blow across his arm. He tumbled, then rolled to his feet in a crouched position.

  “Get down!” he yelled, and the gaping women dropped to their knees. “All the way!” He motioned with his hand until they were on their stomachs.

  The shot had come from the right of the archery field, where the meadow sloped down to a brook. Small copses of trees lined the bank, and Will thought he saw movement between the branches. Staying as low to the ground as possible, he ran toward the brook, startling a flock of pheasants. As the crack of another gunshot made Will flinch, Lord Dudley strolled out into the open, shielding his eyes from the sun as he followed the flight of the pheasants. A gun was draped over his arm, its barrel pointing to the ground.

  He saw Will and gestured victoriously to the sky. “I got one! Too bad your rat’s not here to fetch it, eh?”

  Feeling a murderous rage he seldom allowed himself to express, Will ran toward Dudley, who stumbled back.

  At the last moment, Will stopped himself from breaking the man’s jaw. “Do you know how close you are to the manor?” he shouted. “Someone could have been killed!”

  “I was aiming at the sky,” Dudley said belligerently, then his eyes widened. “Are you bleeding?”

  Surprised, Will looked down at his left arm and found a narrow bloodstain soaking through from his upper arm to his elbow.

  “It couldn’t have been me!”

  “You startled the women, and one of their arrows hit me.”

  Will turned when he heard the rustle of long skirts trailing across the grass.

  “William!” Jane cried, staring wide-eyed at his wound. “Were you shot?”

  “It was my arrow. Please forgive me.” Miss Reed’s healthy complexion had gone pale—quite a nice touch in her arsenal of disguises.

  Will gave her a brief nod.

  “It wasn’t me,” Dudley said smugly.

  Will turned on him, and his expression made the man fall back. “Get
that gun up to the house. If I find you shooting anywhere near here again, I’ll make sure the duke knows about your stupidity.”

  Dudley stomped past them, and Will thought he heard, “Coward.”

  He ignored it and reached for Jane’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s injured. Come up to the house so we can look at your arm.”

  “Do forgive me,” Julia said again. “Shall I have Kelthorpe send for a physician?”

  Will turned and really looked at her for the first time. Though several years older than Jane, she was a healthy, good-looking woman whose startlingly blue eyes were very direct. Did those eyes look cold as glaciers when she betrayed her country?

  “There’s no need for a physician. It was an accident,” he said, though he could not stop the suspicions clouding his thoughts. “You’ve drawn blood, and we haven’t even been properly introduced yet.”

  She smiled, and the stiffness left her shoulders as she offered her hand as confidently as any man. “I’m Miss Julia Reed.”

  “And I am Lord Chadwick, Miss Whittington’s betrothed.”

  “Ah yes, Lady Harriet mentioned you,” Julia said, turning to glance at Jane, “but we haven’t discussed all the details.”

  Jane blushed. “I’ve been too busy pestering Julia about her life in India.”

  Will’s smile remained normal only out of habit. They were on a first-name basis already—and talking about India?

  He couldn’t leave Langley Manor soon enough.

  He had to get a message to Nick, telling him what was going on. He was debating making their departure this evening when Jane stepped closer and touched his arm.

  “Does this hurt?” she asked, concern causing a furrow in her brow. “We must control the bleeding.”

  He stopped himself from saying he’d had worse. “I can move the arm just fine. I’m sure it’s barely worth your worry.”