“I must agree,” Hammersley said as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Claremont is hardly proper company for Miss Prescott. Or any decent young woman. Alone in a room together for God knows how long. The man’s the worst sort of scoundrel.”
“She’s clever,” Wentworth added quietly. “Miss Prescott cannot be unaware of his reputation.”
“I begin to doubt her sense of propriety.” Hammersley positioned his mallet near the blue-ringed croquet ball and lined up his aim. “No man wants a wife without a whit of good sense. Never mind how pretty she may be.”
Bella went to the rack and selected the yellow-ringed mallet.
The taciturn Lord Wentworth spoke while Hammersley took his shot. “The lady is known for her cold demeanor. I don’t imagine Claremont got very far.”
“He didn’t,” Bella said brightly, and watched each man jolt in shock and consternation. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Miss Prescott.” Wentworth nodded solemnly. He did seem to have the least to be embarrassed about.
“I understand there is some concern about the Duke of Claremont.” Bella waited a moment to ensure she had every man’s attention. “He was not invited but his presence in our home is nothing out of the ordinary. As a child, he spent many days at Hillcrest.”
“He’s hardly a child anymore,” Nix put in unhelpfully.
No, he most definitely was not. Bella got lost for a moment thinking of all the ways the man she’d faced in the billiard room last night was different from the boy she’d once known. The bravado was much the same, but something was missing. He wasn’t as quick to smile or tease. One could almost see the dukedom weighing on his broad shoulders.
“We must start a new game, gentlemen, so that Miss Prescott and I can join,” Louisa announced as she approached with the green mallet that perfectly matched the ribbon on her dress.
Wentworth acknowledged her arrival with a nod but the other men ignored her.
A thwack sounded behind Bella and Hammersley let out a low belt of laughter. “I shall win our wager yet, Mr. Nix.”
“Another wager,” Bella mumbled under her breath.
“Men do enjoy winning,” Louisa said as she came to stand close enough for them to whisper.
“Teasdale is gone. I wonder why Nix chose to remain after last evening.”
Louisa moved an inch closer. “I believe he wishes to make an arrangement with Hammersley to fund a new mill in the north near the viscount’s estate.”
“Do men do nothing but make deals?” Bella bit her lip as soon as the words were out.
Rhys’s visit had left her so out of sorts that the entire house party felt like a farce. She wanted it to end so she could get back to her puzzles and conundrums. Solving riddles made far more sense than navigating gentlemen suitors.
She also had to find a way to convince her parents to set off for a warmer climate.
The truth was that she wanted an arrangement too, preferably with a reputable publisher who believed in her work.
“Ladies, we’re starting a new match if you wish to join,” the usually quiet Lord Wentworth called from the edge of the first wicket. He watched both of them cross the grass, but Bella noticed that his gaze fixed on Louisa.
“I suppose we all make bargains, don’t we?” Louisa mused as she walked beside Bella. “Is marriage itself not a deal of sorts?”
Bella narrowed an eye at her cousin. “You make me nervous when you become philosophical.”
Louisa laughed. “I promise I’m not playing matchmaker. To be honest, I’m dubious any of these gentlemen will suit you. Your mother meant well but she couldn’t choose as you would.”
“On that, we’re agreed. At least the field has narrowed to Hammersley and Wentworth.”
“And what is your strategy?” She grinned the way she did when Bella was on the verge of explaining a new conundrum.
“Do I need one?”
Louisa stopped, pulled Bella to a standstill and shot her a dumbfounded look. “You’re a puzzle maker, Bell. You always have a strategy. And you’re practically an expert at turning down offers of marriage.”
“Thank you.” Bella frowned. “If that was praise.”
“Oh it was.” Louisa smiled mischievously. “You must teach me that skill in case I need it during my first Season.”
“You won’t need it.” Bella knew her cousin’s first Season would be a grand success.
Louisa was lovely, clever, and eager to fall in love. No past hurt held her heart hostage.
“If I do, I’m coming straight to you for aid.” She glanced toward the men assembled near the first wicket waiting for them to start a new match. “Now, how may I help you with these three?”
Bella assessed the men too. “My only goal is to end all of this as soon as possible and get back to my work.”
“Do you not fear your parents will arrange for another Season?”
“Yes, but shall I marry Hammersley instead?” The fear of another Season chased at her mind relentlessly. But the fear of a life with any of the men standing on her lawn was far greater.
“So you must dissuade Nix, Wentworth, and Hammersley from any further pursuit.” Louisa pursed her mouth thoughtfully and tapped a finger against her cheek.
Bella knew the answer. She’d considered it last night, and the gentlemen’s earlier conversation made it clear how well it would work. They’d been appalled by Rhys’s unexpected visit, and it had apparently unsettled Hammersley almost as deeply as it had shaken Bella.
What would they say if Rhys joined them for dinner as an invited guest and danced with her at the musical evening her mother had planned?
“There it is,” Louisa said excitedly. “The gears are working. What have you come up with?”
“A bargain.”
Louisa tilted her head. “With one of these gentlemen?”
“No.” Bella drew in a deep breath and placed a hand over her middle. “He’d insist he’s not a gentleman at all. A scoundrel, some would say.”
“Claremont.” There wasn’t even a hint of surprise in Louisa’s voice. “But you sent him away last night, didn’t you? Why would he return?”
“He asked me for something.”
“So you’ll make a deal.”
Bella smiled and the fluttering in her belly eased. This wasn’t even a terribly difficult problem to solve. He needed her help and now she needed his. Rhys was reckless and completely impulsive, but he could be practical too.
“Are you joining us, ladies?” Nix’s impatient whine grated on Bella’s nerves.
Wentworth stepped in front of him and gestured Louisa and Bella toward the first wicket. “As it is your birthday, Miss Prescott, you must take the first turn.”
Louisa began to step toward the men, but Bella stayed her with a hand on her arm. “I’m going to make an excuse to step away. I need to compose a note to the duke and have a servant deliver it before it gets too late in the day.”
“Let me do it,” Louisa whispered. “These gentlemen have come to spend time with you. Just tell me what to say.”
“No, I must do this myself.” Bella wondered if he’d remember the date, the anniversary of the last moment they’d spoken in five years. Until last night.
In that moment, she decided a note wouldn’t do. He’d come to her, so she’d go to him.
Now that the shock of their first encounter had worn off, seeing him again wouldn’t disturb her at all.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, but I must attend to an errand this morning.”
Rhys would welcome her visit. And maybe if he did this one thing and freed her from the pressure to marry a man who didn’t suit her, it would truly make up for that day.
Chapter Six
The man was late.
Rhys paced the length of his father’s study but it did nothing to burn away the frustration that had been building since his return to Edgecombe.
Glancing out the garden-facing window, he spotted Meg, who’d set up an easel to paint f
lowers in the sunshine. Getting out of doors might do him good too. Maybe a gallop across the fields on one of his father’s stallions. The stables were apparently full of fine horses and there was a man-made lake on the property his father had commissioned but Rhys had never seen.
In many ways, Edgecombe was a mystery. He’d avoided the place for years, and during that time his father had made expensive changes. Discovering why and solving the problem of its finances was proving an even greater quandary than he’d expected. Unlike his clever neighbor, Rhys had never been good at unraveling riddles.
He glanced at the clock again. “Where the hell are you, Radley?”
He refused to be confined inside on a fine day because his suspicious steward declined to show his face. The man’s reticence made it more and more likely that he was the culprit in siphoning the estate’s funds. Ah, how bloody grand it would be to wrap up the whole matter quickly.
Then he could focus on Meg and her Season, speaking to tenants, making repairs to the estate, a visit to the House of Lords when it was in session. Good God, how had the list of duties grown since he’d arrived?
Making amends with Bella Prescott ran through his mind unbidden.
She was there at the top of his thoughts. To think of anything else, he’d ruthlessly pushed her aside all morning. Had she always smelled like violets? Had she always had such fire in her gaze?
He shrugged out of his jacket, laid it across a chair, and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. He needed air. To move and put distance between him and Edgecombe’s thick stone walls. A walk would put some heat into his bones and give him an opportunity to examine the outbuildings and elaborate gardens his father had put in the place in the past few years.
Good God, when had he started thinking practically?
He unwound his cravat and began pulling it from his neck but stilled when he heard footsteps in the hallway.
The steward. Finally.
His steps were firm, a loud clatter on the polished hallway floors. Rhys considered going out to greet the man, but he decided it was far better to remain and exude the kind of authority his father would have. The objective was to put the man on edge and get him to confess his misdeeds.
He strode to his father’s desk, settled his backside against the edge, and crossed his arms over his chest. If his father was any example, Claremont ducal arrogance involved pretending you knew everything, puffing your chest out as if you were the burliest man in the room, and laughing at insults as if they mattered not a whit. Rhys could do all of that. He’d always been good at pretending.
As soon as the door latch twisted, he boomed out the man’s name.
“Mr. Radl—” Rhys’s voice faltered and his mouth went dry.
It wasn’t Mr. Radley who stormed into the room.
Bella stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She vibrated with energy, and smelled of lemons and fresh air.
“You walked all the way from Hillcrest.” Rhys was no detective, but her cheeks were flushed a delicious pink.
“Of course.” She caught at a few loose strands of hair and tucked them into pins. “One of us used to walk back and forth every day. Sometimes we even raced each other. Have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Just like back then, her boots were dirty and the hem of her skirt was dotted with mud. Neither of them had ever minded about such matters. It made him ridiculously pleased to find that she still didn’t.
As he studied her, the blush in her cheeks deepened. Mercy, how he’d missed that.
If she’d blushed last night, he couldn’t tell in the low light of the billiard room. But he found he liked both Bellas. The fierce, sharp woman of last evening, and this one, beautifully disheveled and still breathing hard from her trek across the fields.
“I’m glad you’ve come.” The gladness poured through him like fine whiskey, warming his insides.
She didn’t seem to share his feelings. The determined set to her jaw told him she’d come with a plan. He didn’t know what part he was to play in her schemes, but he suspected he’d agree. He needed her help and after the previous evening’s encounter he feared they’d go back to avoiding each other. After parting from her, he’d felt like a fool who’d mucked up a chance to make amends with the girl who’d once been the most important person in his life.
“I’ve changed my mind.” She lifted her chin a notch after making the declaration as if the words were some sort of challenge.
Rhys waited. There had to be more.
Her confidence gave way to a frown. “You said you’d be willing to exchange favors.”
“I did.” He swallowed hard recalling how he’d given himself away in that moment. Never in his life had he imagined his apology would turn to flirtation. “I am still willing.”
“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together, and Rhys had his first moment of pause.
“Wait. Tell me what I’m agreeing to first.”
“A visit to Hillcrest.”
Rhys stepped forward, arms still crossed, and gazed down at her flushed face, savoring the excitement in her green-gold eyes. Only he got to see her like this. With others she was always careful. Proper. But when they were alone, he saw this side of her. Reckless, eager, full of ideas. “Tell me the rest.”
She stared at him, assessing. “I’m hoping your presence this evening will dissuade the rest of the suitors Mama invited to the house party.”
“Suitors?” Plural. “How many do you have?”
The notion of her having any made a muscle jump at the edge of his jaw and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Protectiveness, perhaps. He’d failed at it woefully with her but the impulse remained.
“My mother invited four men. Two of whom you saw in the billiard room last evening. Lord Teasdale departed this morning, and I’m hoping Mr. Nix will decamp soon too.” She drew in a sharp breath. “But that leaves two others.”
“And my presence will do what?” Possibilities whirled in his mind. “What is it you wish of me?”
Bella shrugged. “Be yourself. Converse. Tell amusing stories. Dine with us.” She gnawed her lower lip a moment and added, “Perhaps dance with me.”
They’d never danced in all the years they’d known each other. There had been endless days spent together rambling the countryside, confessions of hopes and fears as they explored all the nooks and crannies of Edgecombe, and yet in all those years they’d never stood in each other’s arms and danced.
His pulse quickened, and he wasn’t certain whether it was nervousness or anticipation. Dancing was one of his few talents, and one that he enjoyed. He wasn’t sure of Bella’s opinion though.
“Do you like to dance?” Suddenly he was desperate to know.
She blinked and her eyes widened as if the question surprised her. “Not particularly but it’s expected.”
“Enduring the company of suitors your mother has chosen for you is expected too, and yet . . .”
He’d heard of Bella’s reputation for rejecting suitors. She may deny caring about news of him, but he’d determinedly sought news of her through mutual acquaintances during the Season. A lingering sense of guilt and unease had made him determined to confirm that she was well. The first time he overheard a man at a soiree recount a proposal to her and the cold manner of her rejection, Rhys struggled to reconcile the description with the woman he knew.
“Yet?”
“You’ve rejected a few.”
She tipped her head down and he wanted to take the words back. He’d always appreciated that she knew her own mind and it didn’t surprise him that she’d reject any man who didn’t suit her. But as the only daughter of a viscount, he understood that her parents would not stop until they saw her well matched and happily settled.
“This time, I promised my parents I would try.”
That he understood too. Her parents doted on her and she’d been dutiful despite her independent nature. Which made her request all the more confusing.
“Yet you’re
hoping my presence tonight will thwart their plans on purpose.”
He could almost see the conflict inside her, the struggle between acceding to her parents’ wishes and pursuing her own happiness.
“I will need to marry,” she admitted in a begrudging tone. “But not any of these men. Hammersley is too old and stuck in his ways. Lord Wentworth is too taciturn.”
Rhys stifled the impulse to ask what he was. But he already knew. Too reckless. Too debauched. And, of course, too muddle-minded to decipher a few estate ledgers, though he knew she’d never let him speak of himself that way to her aloud. She’d always been his staunchest defender and she’d never minded when he needed her help.
As if she sensed the turn of his thoughts, Bella said, “I’ll assist you in return, of course. With Meg and the ledgers.” She turned to glance at the messy pile of scribbled notes and open books on his desk. “We could begin tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, it is. And tonight we will celebrate your birthday and I will play the role of suitor.” He winked at her, as he’d done a thousand times before. In the past, it had drawn a giggle, a punch on the arm, or a wink in return.
Today she looked horrified.
“You’re not a suitor.” Bella hated the way her cheeks caught fire and her voice went raspy.
She wasn’t inviting him to Hillcrest to woo her. Not in any true way. She wasn’t even asking him to cause a scandal. Hopefully his mere presence would disturb Hammersley and Wentworth enough for them to give up any thought of pursuit.
The Claremonts had always been a family that trampled the bounds of propriety. The ducal title had simply allowed Rhys’s father to do as he pleased with more impunity. From all that she’d heard of his London shenanigans, Rhys had spent the last few years trying to outdo his father’s infamy.
Men like Hammersley and Wentworth wouldn’t wish to associate with him privately, or marry a young woman who counted him a friend.
Nothing Compares to the Duke Page 7
