Ripe for Seduction

by Isobel Carr

  “The rest of the pack?” Roland said as he followed her inside. “There are more?”

  Olivia nodded as he handed his coat and hat over to the footman who came to claim them. “These are the youngsters,” she said with a laugh as one of milling hounds rubbed its head across her skirt. “And very naughty they are, too, slipping out to play in the mud. I think the rest are strategically spread throughout the house, sleeping beside whatever fires have been lit.”

  The half-grown pup’s tail wagged wildly as Olivia spoke. Roland stripped off his gloves and held his hand out to the one that approached him. The dog sniffed, nosed his hand, and then snatched a glove and bolted off into the house with its fellows in hot pursuit.

  Olivia bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s a glove you’ll never see again. At least not in a form you’ll recognize.”

  Roland shoved the remaining one into his pocket. “I’ll husband this one to sacrifice later then.”

  “An excellent plan,” Olivia said, taking his arm and leading him into the house. “Come and have a drink. And I promise to replace your gloves. It’s one of the hazards of visiting us. I should have warned you. Your sister has already lost a shoe as well. Bosworth stole it right off her foot during dinner last night.”

  “I’m sure Margo was thrilled.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d have used, but she did get into the spirit of the thing by tossing the other one into the fray.”

  “So you’re warning me to guard my boots?”

  “With your life,” Lord Arlington said as they entered the drawing room. “I’m sure your valet will be warned by our butler to keep the door to your room tightly shut, but I’ll give you the same advice. We’ve an entire litter of five-month-olds at the moment, and they seem hell-bent on the destruction of every piece of leather they come across, shoes, gloves, bridles, books.” He said books as though that one particularly pained him.

  Roland glanced around the heavily paneled room. “I suppose you should be happy their tastes don’t run to wood.”

  Olivia winced. “We’ve had that litter, too. Don’t look too closely at some of the furniture or the corners of the wainscoting.”

  Roland accepted a glass of brandy from the earl and strolled over to the fire. It was hard not to laugh. Arlington could more than afford to replace whatever furniture the dogs ate. That he chose not to do so simply meant that on a certain level the destruction didn’t bother him.

  The fire was walled off by two long, gray bodies. Hastings and a slightly paler bitch were stretched out in front of it. Hastings whined softly and fanned the floor with his tail as Roland approached. Unable to resist, Roland set his glass on the mantel and knelt down to give the dog a scratch.

  Olivia’s mud-spattered skirts came into view. “That’s Rouen sprawled beside Hastings, mother to the horde that greeted you at the gates.”

  The bitch raised her head, and Roland ran his fingers through the wiry fur that covered her side. “Never a dull moment, eh?” He glanced up at Olivia.

  She smiled, clearly happy amid the chaos. “Not with puppies in the house, no.” She rubbed at one of the streaks of mud on her skirt with her thumb. “Never a clean one either, though. I’d almost managed to forget that aspect of living here.”

  Roland stood up and reclaimed his glass. “Is Margo hiding from the dogs?”

  Olivia shook her head. “No, I think the comtesse has been adopted into the pack. One of the older dogs is quite taken with her. I don’t think Maldon has left her side since she arrived. I think she retired to change for dinner, as should we all. Father, shall I show Mr. Devere to his room? I think Mrs. Hibbert was planning on putting him in The Crusader Room, wasn’t she?”

  The earl looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “I haven’t the slightest idea where Mrs. Hibbert is planning on putting anyone.”

  Livy shook her head and motioned for him to follow her. Roland saluted Lord Arlington with his glass and did as he was bid. The main staircase turned back upon itself and led to a long corridor that stretched in both directions.

  “Your sister is there.” She pointed to the first door on the left. “You’re at the very end.” She opened the last door on the right, and Roland realized the house wasn’t built onto the castle wall; it was built into the castle. The far wall of the room was stone, though a large portion of it was covered with a tapestry depicting a medieval battle of mounted knights.

  There was a large bed on one wall, opposite the room’s only real window, which looked out on the gate and portcullis. The castle wall had several arrow slits that upon closer inspection were glazed and showed a vista that included the road and the edge of the forest.

  Martin was nowhere to be seen, but his shaving case was lying open on the dressing table, so he was clearly in the correct room. He turned to ask Olivia a question, only to realize she’d slipped away while he’d been exploring. A minute later, Martin appeared through the adjoining door to the closet. He took one look at the still-open door and rushed across the room to shut it. “The dogs are quite predatory, sir,” he said before heading back into the closet. “Which coat would you like, the puce silk or the brown camlet with gold braid?”

  Philip paced across his drawing room, earning a glare of reproof from Hastings. Sad when the dog was right. There was no reason to be nervous, or rather his being so would do nothing to help convince Margo that she could be happy at Holinshed, happy with him. And that was, after all, the entire purpose of inviting her for the fawn count.

  Margo reappeared after changing for dinner with his ancient one-eyed hound still on her heels. The comtesse came to join him near the windows, and Maldon flopped down at her feet rather than join his fellows near the fire.

  “Maldon’s no easy conquest,” Philip said.

  “He’s just hoping for a shoe,” Margo said darkly, though her eyes held a hint of amusement.

  Philip chuckled and poured her a sherry. “You don’t really mind the dogs, do you?” he said as she took the small glass from him. He couldn’t blame her if she did; the dogs were more than he could ask of any sane woman. Either she’d love the house and the dogs as much as he did, or she’d be miserable at Holinshed.

  Margo reached up to smooth his brow with her thumb. He didn’t realize he’d been frowning. “No,” she said, staring up at him, large dark eyes utterly sincere. “I don’t mind the dogs.”

  Philip captured her hand and kissed her palm. Her smile turned sly, and he dipped his head to kiss her. The rattle of the door caught him up short. Margo laughed as he straightened and took a decorous step back from her.

  Livy came in with Henry and Devere behind her. His heir went to pour himself a drink, and Maldon growled. The comtesse shushed him, and the hound put his head down with his one eye still on Henry. Philip smiled to himself and sipped his brandy. Margo might not realize it, but she was already behaving as if it were her house, as if shushing an enormous dog was the most natural thing in the world.

  Maldon ignored her brother completely as he came to hug her. “Hallo, sister of mine,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek for good measure.

  Margo scrunched her nose at him and kissed him back. “Hallo, Rolly dear. Did you arrive early enough to tour the castle? No, well, you’ll have to let Lady Olivia show you about tomorrow. It’s really rather impressive.”

  The butler arrived to announce that dinner was ready, and Philip offered Margo his arm. Her brother claimed Livy, as was fitting, and Henry trailed after them, followed by the dogs.

  The place settings were grouped at one end of the table as he’d instructed. There was no reason to shout at one another all evening. Philip helped Margo into the seat to his right, while his daughter took the one to his left. Devere claimed the seat next to Livy and Henry resignedly took the only remaining place beside the comtesse.

  “Lady Olivia was telling me this house has a history similar to that of Croughton Abbey,” Devere said as the first course was serv
ed.

  Philip smiled. It did indeed. “The third earl, like your own forefather, refused to surrender to Cromwell’s forces. So when the roundheads finally battered the walls down, they destroyed what they could and torched the rest. Which I’ll admit wasn’t all that much, as the earl had wisely sent his family to France when the king was captured.”

  “Along with the dogs,” Livy added, “and every bit of his fortune that was portable.”

  “Yes, with the dogs. The first pack was a gift from James I, and the family has never been without them. When the monarchy was restored and the earl eventually returned to Holinshed, there was nothing but the ruins of the castle left. Rather than tear it down or remove to another location as so many others did, he built his manor house inside the walls, a testament to his refusal to give ground.”

  “It’s certainly a most unusual house,” Devere said.

  “It’s like a secret world,” Margo said a bit dreamily. Her brother shot her a quizzing look, and Philip grinned. Yes, inviting her had been a very wise maneuver. It wasn’t that she was mercenary, but ignoring the reality of what he was offering her was harder to do when it was right before her eyes.

  “Some parts of the castle are still in use,” Henry said, joining the conversation. “The house incorporates parts of it, though it can be hard to tell if you’re in the new sections. And there’s an intact corridor to the nearest tower where the steward has his office and quarters.”

  “And the stables were built inside a section of the ruins on the far side of the house,” Lady Olivia said. “With the kennels beyond that, and then The Raven Tower at the far end.”

  “The Raven Tower?” Devere said. “That sounds suitably medieval.”

  “The birds took up residence while the castle was empty,” Philip said as the second course was brought in and laid out on the table. “The third earl said that if they were good enough for the Tower of London, they were good enough for Holinshed. You’ll see them out on the lawn taunting the dogs on occasion.”

  “Yes,” his daughter said with a grin. “Several of them can even whistle, and one has learned to call them. You’ll hear him croaking out their names and then cackling when they race across the lawn trying to catch him.”

  When the final course of nuts and sweetmeats was brought in, Henry and the comtesse began to talk of Italy. Philip motioned for the footman to refill his glass. He hadn’t been abroad since he’d made the grand tour, but he could still picture it all quite clearly: the ruins of Athens and Rome, the clear water of the Mediterranean, the excitement of the horse races in Siena. He’d spent nearly three years traveling across the Continent; he’d even seen the Levant. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  When his butler appeared with the port, Philip ushered them all back to the drawing room. Henry stayed long enough to down a single glass and talk to Margo a little about her life in France before excusing himself and heading for bed. Philip couldn’t help but commend him for the effort to be pleasant. He had to know that his inheritance was at risk.

  Margo shrugged out of her dressing gown and dropped it onto the bench before the dressing table. She was still wide awake, but her candle had burnt down until it guttered in the socket and went out. She’d have to call someone to bring a new one if she wanted to continue to read and that seemed a ridiculous demand in someone else’s home. Perhaps if she simply gave in and went to bed, sleep would come. She’d been hoping Arlington would find his way to her room, but for the second night in a row, her hopes appeared to be in vain.

  Her one-eyed protector barked softly from his chosen spot upon the chaise longue, clearly chasing rabbits in his sleep. Her maid had tried to shoo him from the room when she herself had left, but Maldon had simply crawled onto the chaise and become an immovable object.

  Paxton had finally given up, though she’d offered to find someone from Lord Arlington’s staff to come and remove la Bête du Gévaudan, as she’d taken to calling it, her loathing apparent in every jaundiced glance.

  Margo slid into bed, beat the pillows into shape, and stared up at the dark recesses of the canopy. If she took the plunge and married Arlington, she was almost positive Paxton would decamp to Paris in disgust. London was one thing; Holinshed was clearly something else. And Margo could feel the lure of it working its way under her skin like a barbed hook.

  It was so very English. It called to her in a way she hadn’t expected. Much like the earl himself. He seemed to have known it would, damn the man.

  CHAPTER 36

  When Roland came down to breakfast, there were many new faces, all male. Olivia was ensconced among them, happily playing hostess. She smiled at him brightly and waved him toward the buffet, which was heavily laden with platters of cold beef, thinly sliced ham and tongue, eggs, steak and kidney pie, and piles of dry toast and muffins. There was also ale, which the elderly Lord Hynde was drinking, as well as an immense silver urn of coffee, which Olivia was presiding over with the skill of someone who’d been doing so since she was a child.

  Roland loaded up a plate and took a seat at the breakfast table beside one of the newcomers. The butter was barely soft enough to spread over the cold toasted muffin he claimed from the rack upon the table. Roland stopped trying and ladled marmalade onto it instead. Olivia raised a brow at his greed, and Roland responded by eating it in three bites.

  When he’d swallowed the last of it, she poured him a dish of coffee and introduced him to the two guests he didn’t already know. He nodded to Hynde, a friend of his father’s, and accepted the baron’s congratulations on his engagement.

  “Your mother was discussing the wedding with my wife over dinner last week,” Hynde said with a sympathetic air. “Seems to have August at Croughton in mind. I’d have thought Lady Olivia would want to be married from her own home.”

  Olivia busied herself pouring a cup of coffee for Carlow, who had just arrived. “I wouldn’t think so, my lord,” Carlow said as he took a seat beside the old man. “Bad associations,” he added sotto voce.

  Roland suppressed the urge to eject him physically from the room. The baron looked suddenly embarrassed. “Just so,” he said before excusing himself and shuffling off.

  “Henry,” Olivia said when he was gone. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Carlow shrugged and took a bite of ham. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone would need reminding.”

  “Nor I, but if they don’t, I’ll take that as a blessing. Mr. Devere,” she turned slightly in her seat, “shall I give you the tour you were promised now?”

  Roland nodded in agreement. He pushed away from the table, and Olivia rose with him.

  “I shall see you all at luncheon before we head out,” she said before taking his arm and practically dragging him out of the room. “Get me away before I strangle my cousin.”

  “Gladly,” Roland said. “Though it might be a greater service if I simply strangled him for you.”

  A smile curled the corner of her lips but she shook her head. “You shouldn’t encourage me.”

  Roland waggled his brows, and Olivia gave in and laughed as they strode purposefully away from the breakfast room. Stealing a bit of time with Olivia was at the top of his agenda for the day. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy though. “Where shall we start?”

  “With the battlements, I think. The easiest way up is through the tower ruins. That way we don’t have to disturb my father, the steward, nor risk our eyes in The Raven Tower.”

  “Will the birds really attack interlopers?” He’d seen an overly eager visitor to the Tower of London nearly lose a finger when the man had repeatedly poked at one of the half-tame birds.

  “I doubt it. Keens is up there all the time to feed them, but it’s much pleasanter to give them the go-by.”

  When they stepped out of the house, several of the puppies heaved themselves up from the ground and joined them. One of them had a shredded bit of leather dangling from its mouth that Roland was all too sure was the remains of his glove.
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  Olivia took his hand as she led him up the ancient, stone stairs. Each tread was swaybacked like an old horse, worn away by centuries of use. Halfway up, the dogs scrambled past them in a roiling, howling mob, nearly tripping Olivia. Roland caught her and took the opportunity to press her back against the wall and kiss her.

  She softened in his arms almost immediately, opening her lips to him, welcoming him in with wicked strokes of her tongue. If he lifted her skirts would she object? He dropped one hand to find out, only to be nearly knocked off his feet by the dogs as they plunged back down the stairs.

  “Remind me to show you where the door behind the tapestry in your room leads,” Olivia said before turning and racing up the stairs in a flurry of skirts.

  When he emerged at the top of the tower ruins, he found that the wide shallow stairs gave way to what would have once been a room of some kind; the bottom of one windowsill was still in evidence and the remains of a doorway led out to the battlements.

  Olivia, flanked by the puppy chewing on his glove as though it were cud, was staring out toward the same forest his bedroom looked upon. “Those woods are the deer park,” she said, waving one hand out toward them. “This afternoon, we’ll be walking the paths in small groups, keeping a tally of the fawns. They can be quite hard to spot, as our herd is mostly black or very dark brown.”

  “I didn’t even know fallow deer came in black.” Roland narrowed his eyes and studied the forest intently, trying to see if any of the deer were visible. The tips of the canopy swayed in the breeze, but nothing stirred on the ground.

  “They come in a wide range of colors,” Olivia said, turning to face him and balancing one hip against the parapet. “The pale ones are easier to spot in the woods though—as you’ll soon see—so they tend to get culled at a higher rate than the darker ones.”

  She wandered away from him, her curls being pulled by the same breeze that wove its way through the forest. She turned to glance back at him as she headed toward the next tower. Roland took a deep breath and started after her. “Wouldn’t that be true everywhere?”