Samantha Grace - [Beau Monde Bachelor 04]

by Lady Vivian Defies a Duke

  “Patience, little one. You may have your mama in a minute.”

  She rose on her toes and leaned her crossed arms on the top railing of a stall to peer at a full-grown milker. The cow flicked a bored gaze in his direction, but Lady Vivian seemed unaware of his presence.

  Luke cleared his throat.

  She swung around with a soft gasp. The rhythmic swish, swish of milk squirting into a bucket ceased.

  He meant to appear unaffected, but he couldn’t help grinning. The lady was as charming in maid’s attire as she had been soaking wet yesterday.

  She dipped into a deep curtsy. “How relieved I am no harm came to you yesterday, sir.”

  “Life is full of surprises, is it not?” Of course Lady Vivian was the biggest surprise, along with her tenacity. That she clung to her pretense fascinated him.

  Luke approached her, caring not that he stared.

  Lady Vivian’s cheeks colored. She backed around the calf, her half boots stirring the hay. He didn’t slow his advance. Not when he would reach her in two strides and earn the reward of gazing at her up close.

  “Time to milk.” She dashed into the stall, avoiding direct eye contact. Avoiding him. “I am sorry for providing unclear directions yesterday, but you found Brighthurst.”

  Unclear directions? The chit had purposefully misled him. He followed her into the stall. “Apology accepted.”

  She tossed a look back over her shoulder. Her pale blue eyes softened. “Thank you. You are a generous soul, Lord Ellis.”

  He balked. Lord Ellis? She thought he was Ellis? How could that be when he had sent word?

  The servant girl—likely the true milkmaid—scooted from the stool to allow Lady Vivian to sit, then shimmed past him to exit the stall.

  “Thank you, Kimberly. I will finish the task,” Lady Vivian said.

  The milkmaid bobbed her head and left him alone with her mistress.

  Lady Vivian offered a tight smile when he crossed his arms and regarded her. “I wish you a safe journey as you continue your travels. Good day, my lord.”

  She thought to send him on his way, did she? Well, she had misjudged him. He was fond of games of strategy, and he couldn’t resist engaging with her, though he didn’t know the rules or what the winner’s spoils would be.

  “I’m in no hurry to leave. I informed Lady Vivian last night I intend to stay until Lady Brighthurst recovers.”

  She flinched. It was barely noticeable, but Luke hadn’t taken his eyes from her since he had entered the barn. It was a near impossible feat.

  “Go on with your work. I don’t want to interrupt you.” Luke squatted beside her. “I have often wondered how one goes about milking a cow.”

  “Uh…”

  A becoming shade of pink climbed her neck and infused her round cheeks. He shouldn’t tease her before revealing he knew her identity, but the lengths she would go to in order to fool him were impressive. He awaited her next move with great anticipation.

  “You don’t mind if I watch, do you?” he asked.

  She hesitated, but then shook her head. The curls gathered at her nape swung in a gentle arc along her back. He itched to loosen the tie confining her hair and run his fingers through the fine strands. He made a fist and held it against his thigh. It wouldn’t do to treat her with anything other than the respect her station deserved.

  “Go on. Don’t be shy on account of my presence.”

  She closed her eyes, her darker lashes lying against her rosy skin. Perhaps she hoped when she opened them again, he would be gone.

  No such luck.

  She stole a quick sideways glance at him then directed her attention back to the milker. “There, there, Maggie.” Patting the animal’s side, she eased her hand under the cow, her lip curling. When the tips of her fingers touched the creature’s udders, she snatched her hand back with a soft squeal.

  Luke concealed his amusement behind a fake cough. “Are the udders cold?”

  Lady Vivian frowned, expressing her disdain with a lift of her nose. “They feel like flesh, my lord, but I wouldn’t expect someone like you to be privy to such information.”

  “Fascinating. Just like flesh, you say? Please continue, unless you have changed your mind about milking.”

  Her mouth set in a grim line. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  He admired her determination.

  Taking a deep, halting breath first, she shot out her arm and seized one of the udders. A strangled moo ripped from the cow, and the animal stomped close to Lady Vivian’s foot. The lady jerked back with a cry and kicked over the pail of milk.

  “Oh, drat it all anyway!”

  Luke chuckled and reached out to stroke her shoulder in a comforting gesture before realizing what he was doing.

  Her body grew rigid under his touch. “My lord! What, pray tell, are you doing?”

  Luke dropped his hand. “My apologies. I didn’t mean—” He took a deep breath to regain control over his rapid heartbeat. “Lady Vivian, let’s end all pretenses, shall we? You are not a servant any more than I am, and I would hazard a guess that you have never milked a cow.”

  Ice blue eyes, so light they reminded him of melted silver, turned on him. The defiant spark he had seen moments earlier dimmed. “You knew at dinner.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I did.” When her shoulders drooped forward, he took her hand in his. The need to ease her discomfort welled up inside him, confusing and yet too strong to ignore. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

  Raising her hand, he placed a chaste kiss on her fingers. Her skin was soft and warm against his lips. He hesitated to release her from his light grasp. This was an intimacy he had never experienced upon an introduction, the feel of a lady’s bare skin. Pushing the limits of propriety, he gently turned her arm to bare her wrist and grazed his mouth over the sensitive spot.

  Lady Vivian trembled, her eyes wide. “Lord Ellis, release me. Please.” She yanked her arm from his hold.

  Luke’s stomach dipped. What the hell was he doing? He aimed a cool smile at her. “Allow me to correct a misconception, Lady Vivian. I’m not Lord Ellis. I sent word to Lady Brighthurst three days ago. I am your intended.”

  He didn’t know why he introduced himself in such a manner. When he had set out for Brighthurst House, he’d had no intention of fulfilling his father’s promise. Nothing had changed, except his unconscionable impulse to take liberties not belonging to him. Luke eased away from her, remembering himself.

  Lady Vivian twisted on the stool to face him. She held her tongue, but an array of emotions flickered across her countenance until impatience threatened to claw through him.

  “What are you thinking, Lady Vivian?”

  She licked her lips, chipping away at his determination to release her from this farce of a betrothal.

  “Do you wish for complete honesty, Your Grace?”

  He grinned for real this time, relieved that his disclosure and inappropriateness hadn’t rattled her as much as he had feared. “Even partial honesty would be appreciated, my lady.”

  Her gaze dropped to the ground. “Right,” she mumbled. “A little censorship might be in order.”

  He captured her hands again and urged her to look at him. “On second thought, be fiercely honest. What were you thinking a moment ago?”

  She tried to ease her hands from his grasp, but he held on tight. Whether it was by instinct or will, he didn’t know, but she curled her fingers around his and secured the link between them.

  Her swallow was audible. “I was thinking how much I regret messing up our agreement. I never imagined you would be so handsome, Your Grace.”

  Luke laughed, reveling in the warmth swirling around in his chest. He was not naive when it came to marriage. Mutual attraction couldn’t sustain a happy union over the years, and there was no question that he was unusually attracted to the lady. Nevertheless, he had witnessed the subsequent misery of many gentlemen who were swept up by lustful urges then disappointed
when the bloom of beauty faded. These were the gents sleeping at White’s every evening, complaining about their greedy mistresses and harpy wives.

  He still took pleasure in Lady Vivian’s admission.

  “I have no intention of dishonoring my father’s word, my lady.” He noted the lifting of her arched brows. “But perhaps you will do me the honor of speaking with your brother so we may both be freed.”

  Five

  Vivi jerked her hands from Foxhaven’s grasp, jumped up, and tripped backward over the stool. The duke lunged for her, but she fell hard on her backside in the dirt.

  The cow swung her head toward Vivi and fixed a sad brown eye on her.

  “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” she blurted.

  Foxhaven stepped over the stool and hauled her from the ground. “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

  “Not you.” Vivi dusted off her hands and jabbed a finger toward the cow. “Maggie. I don’t want her pity.”

  His gaze shot between Maggie and her. His forehead wrinkled. “I see this has been a shock, Lady Vivian. Perhaps you should go lie down and we can resume our discussion later.”

  There was no discussion to be had. She couldn’t ask her brother to release her from the agreement.

  Foxhaven bobbed his head so he was in her line of vision again. The lines between his brows deepened. “Are you all right? You didn’t sustain an injury, did you?”

  Aside from a throbbing bum, no. Unless she counted her wounded pride. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I have no need to lie down, Your Grace. Now, if you will excuse me, I am changing my attire and going for my morning ride. You—you have turned everything topsy-turvy with your arrival, and I’ll not stand for it any longer.”

  She tried to step around Foxhaven before she blubbered a river, but he blocked her retreat. “Wait a moment. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Upset her? Ha! She was not upset. Try devastated. Reeling. Desperate. “I have no say in our betrothal, Your Grace. My brother has made his decision.”

  “Every lady should have a voice in whom she marries. Surely Ashden will listen if you try to reason with him. Your brother is too stubborn to listen to my arguments, but no good can come from this match.”

  Vivi drew back. How blunt he was, and hurtful. He had made a judgment as to her suitability before he had even arrived. She pulled herself up to full height, determined to hang on to the last scraps of her dignity.

  “I cannot speak with my brother. I bid you good day.”

  Again she tried to escape the stall, but he lightly captured her shoulders. His touch muddled her mind and set every nerve ending aflame.

  “Lady Vivian, please be reasonable. We don’t even know each other.”

  “Then take your hands from my person before I remove them from your person.”

  Foxhaven’s eyes rounded. He had vivid blue eyes. Bluer than anything she had ever seen. Perhaps as blue as the sea. Oh, why had she admitted she found him handsome? This was humiliating beyond the pale.

  He exhaled forcefully, stirring the curls on his forehead. “Lady Vivian, could we please start anew? I will release you if you promise not to run.”

  “I want to go for a ride,” she murmured. “Please.”

  Foxhaven sighed and relaxed his hold. “Of course, my lady. I don’t wish to disturb your routine any more than I already have.” He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped aside. “Go prepare for your ride.”

  Vivi dashed past him and out of the barn, running when she cleared the doors. Ash would never allow her to back out, and if Foxhaven refused to sign the contract, her life would be ruined. Worse, her cousin’s life would be ruined, and Vivi couldn’t live with that guilt.

  She needed a long, heart-pounding ride to clear her thoughts. Maybe she would just keep going until she reached the seaside. Perhaps then she could determine if Foxhaven’s eyes were indeed the same shade of blue.

  ***

  After changing into her riding habit, Vivi looked in on Patrice. No violent coughing greeted her this time, and her cousin’s breathing was steady and calm. Reassured that Patrice was recovering, Vivi headed outside and stopped short. Foxhaven was standing in the circle drive with the groom, who’d saddled two horses, hers and the duke’s.

  She ran a hand over the split skirt Winnie had fashioned for her at the beginning of summer. She should have requested a sidesaddle instead of providing the duke with even more reason to oppose their match, but she hadn’t expected him to join her. Hadn’t she said she wanted to be alone?

  Before she could escape unnoticed, Foxhaven looked up and smiled, revealing a small gap between his straight white teeth. “Lady Vivian, your man here assures me you can handle this massive beast.”

  She took a deep breath, adjusted her bonnet, and approached her bay gelding. Romie’s coat shimmered like polished mahogany under the morning sun. “I’ve had him for years. He was a gift from my brother on my fifteenth birthday.” That year had been her best birthday since their parents had died.

  Foxhaven stepped forward before the groom to offer assistance mounting her horse. “Ashden must have a lot of faith in you.”

  Vivi frowned as she accepted the reins from the servant and placed her boot in the duke’s cupped hands. “He has faith in my ability to handle a horse, Your Grace.” His belief in her was another matter, but she had no one to blame but herself.

  Foxhaven lifted her in the air, his muscled chest flexing under his waistcoat. Grasping Romie’s mane, she swung her leg over his back and settled into the saddle. She looked away quickly to hide the blush she sensed flooding her cheeks.

  He patted her horse’s neck; his side brushed against her leg. “I sense a hidden meaning behind your words,” he said softly. “Does your brother think you require help with bringing a gentleman up to scratch?”

  Her fingers tightened on the reins. “I cannot read thoughts, nor do I possess special insight into the workings of Ashden’s mind. Thank you for the leg up.”

  “My pleasure, Lady Vivian.”

  When he turned to approach his horse, she seized the moment.

  She brought Romie’s head around and left Foxhaven in the drive.

  ***

  “Devil take it!” Luke scrambled to mount Thor and give chase. The lady had an aggravating habit of running away from him, but this time she would not escape. Lady Vivian would grant him an audience even if he must wrestle her to the ground and sit on her.

  He snorted. What manner of duke had to beg anyone for an audience or resort to such measures? Not his father.

  Ahead, the lady veered off the lane and urged her horse into a gallop across a field. The gelding’s hooves threw up clods of grass and dirt in his wake. Luke’s body tensed, his vision narrowing on her. She handled her horse better than most men, and looked a hell of a lot better with her bottom lifted inches above the saddle.

  His determination to catch her grew, his muscles quivering from the rush. At the edge of the field, he let Thor have his head. The stallion broke into a gallop, his strides long and graceful, eating up the lead she had on him. Just as he and Thor were drawing closer, she slowed her horse to a canter, preparing to stop in deference to a fence ahead.

  Luke eased back on his horse’s reins. Now was his chance to corner the lady and make her see reason. But she didn’t stop. She dropped her heels, rose up in the stirrups, and sailed her horse over the fence. The magnificent animal stuck the landing and raced up the hill without pause.

  A delicious shiver chased down Luke’s back. He had never had a woman run from him before, and Lady Vivian proved to be a worthy opponent. He pushed his borrowed hat low on his head, squared his horse to the fence, and sailed him over the barrier too. Thor’s hooves landed as Lady Vivian and her steed crested the small hill, scattering the sheep, and then disappeared down the other side.

  When he reached the top, she and her horse were headed toward a fat ribbon of water twisting through the pasture. It appeared she planned to allow her hor
se a drink after his impressive performance, but Luke wouldn’t put it past her to pick up speed and barrel through the water to race up the next hill.

  He refused to abandon the chase until Lady Vivian stopped and dismounted. She led her horse to the water’s edge, then released him. The bay walked into the spring, immersing his front hooves, while she wandered along the bank. She bent to pick up stones and flung them along the surface of the water.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five skips.

  He drew Thor to a halt a few feet away. “Noteworthy performance, my lady.” In truth, she impressed the hell out of him. “Who taught you to ride in that manner?”

  She picked up another flat stone and whipped it across the water’s surface. “My brother.”

  “And skipping stones? Did he teach you this as well?”

  Looking into the distance, she nodded. “I feel it is only fair to inform you he taught me to shoot and fence too.”

  Luke chuckled as he dismounted and joined her at the water’s edge. “Do you mean to run me through with a sword or put a ball in my chest?”

  She spun around, her mouth opened in horror. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “Foil or saber?”

  Her expression softened, her lips curving up into a half smile. “Foil. Ash thought it unwise to teach me anything beyond the basics, and only when my sister-in-law remained behind at Ashden Manor.”

  “Your brother never mentioned any of your more interesting accomplishments when we spoke.”

  She dropped the stone she held and walked toward a willow tree resting along the bank. Its canopy of branches draped over the spring, trailing into the water. “I had intended to give up these pursuits when I married. I don’t suppose it matters now.”

  She sat on a patch of grass and leaned back against the tree trunk. He secured Thor then assumed the place next to her, drawn to her like a hummingbird to a flower.