The Earl's Secret (Elbia Series Book 3)

by Kathryn Jensen

  Christopher gave her a look meant to silence her.

  “Fair or not, it’s the way it will be,” Sandra stated. “And if you, Lord Smythe, dare to tell my daughter that anyone other than Sir Isaac is her father, I will deny it. You won’t be welcome in this house, and Lisa will be instructed never to speak to you again.”

  Christopher bolted to his feet, outrage flaming in his features. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I most certainly would.” Sandra looked pleased with herself. “Perhaps at one time it didn’t seem so terrible to admit I’d had affairs before I married Sir Isaac. But he’s running for the House of Commons, you know, and that will mean more than the usual emphasis on propriety. We won’t be the object of gossip.”

  Jennifer started to object again, but when she looked at Christopher, she could see that he had already accepted defeat. When Christopher moved toward the door to leave, Jennifer followed behind him, sharing his agony.

  The butler was waiting outside the sitting room. He escorted them to the front door. As they passed through it, a gray-haired, stately looking gentleman came up the stone steps.

  “Smythe,” the man said shortly, nodding at Christopher.

  “Good morning, sir,” Christopher returned with equal reserve.

  They were in the car before Jennifer asked, “Who was that going in as we left?”

  “Sir Isaac, Sandra’s husband.”

  “I thought he was tied up for the day.”

  Christopher shrugged. What did it matter? “Perhaps he chose not to be part of the discussion. He must have thought we had already left.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better,” Jennifer whispered.

  Christopher laid a hand on her knee as he pulled into traffic, glad that she had been with him on this most disappointing of days. Her presence made him feel less empty inside.

  “I didn’t expect it to be that bad,” he murmured. “Sandra has never been this unreasonable.”

  Jennifer nodded, tenderly touched his hand, then cushioned it between her own. “She definitely has you in a pinch. Do you think she’d really make good on her threat?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know anything about the British legal system, but in the United States if she denied you visiting rights with Lisa, you could take her to court. Even if you just threatened to do something like that, wouldn’t she give in? She certainly wouldn’t want a lot of publicity in the middle of Sir Isaac’s bid for a seat in Parliament.”

  He appreciated her support. But things weren’t as clear-cut as Jennifer saw them. “I’m not sure I’d dare call Sandra’s bluff. What if she decided to fight me? The British press would smell a scandal. Lisa would be caught in the middle. I can’t put her through that.”

  “No,” Jennifer said sadly, “of course not.”

  But as they drove north again, Christopher thought that confronting Sandra might not have been the worst thing. At least he’d acted. At Jennifer’s urging, he had done something instead of brooding helplessly. He felt better for it, at least for the time being.

  That night as they lay together in bed, Christopher kissed Jennifer good-night on the tip of her nose, their signal that they wouldn’t make love that night but that all was well between them. However, Jennifer took things into her own increasingly capable hands.

  Lifting the sheet, she slid down beneath the covers.

  “What’s this all about?” he asked with a surprised laugh.

  She pressed her lips to his bare stomach and smoothed her hands upward over his muscled chest. “It’s been a nasty day. You need to relax, m’lord,” she purred playfully.

  “What makes you think I’m not— Good grief! What are you doing, Jenny?”

  She trailed kisses down the patch of male fur below his navel, lower still, then pressed her cheek over him. He hardened beneath the soft pad of her cheek.

  Christopher groaned. “Getting a little adventurous, aren’t you?”

  “I’m experimenting. Are you game?”

  “Be my guest.” He chuckled, delighted with her spirit.

  She closed one hand around him, touched him tentatively with the tip of her tongue, stroked him and closed her lips around him. Christopher moaned with each subtle motion of her mouth and loving fingers before he clutched her fiercely to him. A low primal moan of male satisfaction escaped his lips.

  Five days of black skies, unrelenting rain and no opportunity to work out-of-doors inevitably darkened Christopher’s mood again.

  Jennifer kept herself busy. She surveyed the furnishings of the bedroom where she was refinishing the crown molding—a jumble of lovely eighteenth-century antiques, flea-market junk, two marble-topped tables that might be as old as the castle itself and a moth-eaten fifties recliner. With the help of two stable hands she carted away the furniture that was of no value, then rearranged the room with the period pieces alone.

  Christopher poked his head inside and looked around. “They told me you were throwing out perfectly good stuff.”

  “Perfectly good for a rummage sale,” she declared. “Displaying cheap modern furniture alongside such gorgeous old things is a crime. It’s fine to mix centuries and styles, as long as each piece lives up to Donan’s traditions.”

  “The room still needs a bed,” Christopher commented thoughtfully.

  “When the weather clears, I’ll visit a couple of nearby estate sales,” she said. “In the meantime, we can go through the other rooms and choose what to keep or give away.”

  Jennifer worked energetically, enjoying the challenge of identifying rare treasures from Donan’s forgotten rooms with the help of catalogs ordered from the museum in Edinburgh.

  Christopher strove to show enthusiasm for her efforts, but she often found him wandering the castle halls, doing battle with a dour mood. When he tried to help her, his mind drifted and he accomplished little. She feared that all of her cheerfulness and hard work were doing him little good.

  One day his old spirit unexpectedly reappeared. He announced that the weather was predicted to clear in the afternoon, and they would drive to a friend’s estate where there was to be a polo match. He assured her that this group was friendly and would welcome her.

  The grooms loaded their boss’s four favorite horses into a trailer, since frequent changes of mounts were required in a hard-ridden game of polo. The trailer was hitched to a truck and driven by the head groom, Jamie. Jennifer rode with Christopher in the Jaguar.

  He talked nonstop all the way. Jennifer was thrilled to see the change, but wary, too, for the sudden shift in moods was unsettling.

  “I’ll ride Prince’s Pride first,” he told Jamie when they arrived at the host estate. “It may be a few hours before we begin, but you might as well get him ready.”

  A crowd of cars, horse vans, riders and observers rapidly gathered around the edges of the broad field that stretched below an elegant country house. Under a pavilion warmed by a toasty fire, an elaborate spread of food awaited hungry guests. Christopher introduced Jennifer to everyone. Many people had heard that Castle Donan was in the throes of a major restoration and everyone was eager for details.

  “Jenny is amazing.” Christopher smiled appreciatively at her and squeezed her hand. “She has an excellent historical background and makes all the right decisions.”

  “I would love you to have a peek at a few of my rooms,” their hostess said with a hopeful smile. “Is it your business, restoration?”

  “No,” Jennifer admitted, “but I wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m enjoying myself immensely.”

  “Well, let’s have a look-see,” the woman said and gave Christopher a knowing wink. “If Lord Smythe can spare you?”

  He kissed her heartily on the mouth and gave her an encouraging nudge. “Off you go, then. I’ll stay with the horses.”

  The peek at a few rooms turned out to be an hour-long excursion of the Victorian mansion. But Jennifer so enjoyed herself time didn’t matter. She was able to give
Emma Dorchester several ideas for redecorating. And while they talked about furnishings, wallpaper, paint and historical details of the house, Jennifer learned more about Emma. All of which she liked. Married to a diamond importer, she was a granddaughter of a famous prime minister of England. Emma loved her extensive gardens and worked often in them, but her favorite hobby was jewelry design. Her creations were in high demand in exclusive London shops.

  They ended up in front of a window overlooking the polo field. Riders were mounted and taking practice swats with long-handled mallets at small balls hidden by the grass.

  “Oh, they’re starting already,” Jennifer cried excitedly. This time she would be pulling for Christopher, not wishing for his demise.

  “So they are.” Emma took her arm. “Let’s go down. I thought we’d wait a little longer but someone must be eager.”

  Chris, Jennifer thought immediately.

  She could see him tearing up and down the field on the glistening back of Prince’s Pride. The black horse dug in its hooves as it spun in a sharp turn at the tug on his reins, sending clods of turf flying.

  This is why we’re here, she realized.

  For a few hours Christopher would try to wipe from his mind the bitter disappointment that plagued him. Visions of the tragic riding accident of a famous actor flashed through her mind. Jennifer felt the need to keep a close watch on him.

  “Yes, let’s go,” she said breathlessly.

  Christopher saw Jennifer standing at the far end of the field. He finished negotiating a handicap with the other team’s field captain, spun his horse and rode at breakneck pace to pull up with just inches to spare in front of her.

  He felt stronger than he had in days. Prince snuffled and flared his nostrils, dancing restlessly beneath him as if just as eager to begin.

  “Wish me luck, luv. We’ve got a lot riding on this match, and I had to give the other side four bloody points!”

  “More money for Lisa’s school?” she asked.

  “This time most will go to a school in Edinburgh for troubled kids.”

  She smiled up at him and stroked his horse’s velvety muzzle. “Fund-raising seems to be developing into a profession for you.”

  He shrugged. “I like the kids, what can I say?”

  “Just be careful out there,” she whispered.

  He bent down from his saddle and kissed her on the mouth, amused but also warmed by the apprehension in her pretty green eyes.

  Wheeling his mount, he left her to find a seat among the folding chairs arranged along one side of the field. He kept Prince moving while the remaining players took the field. Four to each team. The two umpires mounted up. The referee signaled the start of the first period, and they were off.

  “Have you ever played?” Jennifer asked Emma when she took the seat beside her.

  “Far too many broken bones for my taste. I’d rather watch.”

  Jennifer followed the play, sliding farther and farther forward on her seat. The speed of the horses, shouts of the players, cracks of mallets and earth-shaking hoofbeats made her feel part of the fierce action.

  To her surprise the horses were all Thoroughbreds—big, strong animals topping a thousand pounds each, not the agile polo ponies she had imagined galloping lightly down the field. The first of the six, seven-minute periods came to an end with the score 1-to-2 in favor of the other side.

  Christopher had ridden hard and taken far more risks than in the other match she had watched. Several players changed horses, but Christopher did not.

  In the second period he played even more recklessly. He ran his horse full-out at the ball, swinging his long-handled mallet like a Scottish warrior attacking the enemy. Standing in his stirrups, he shouted commands to his teammates and traded curses or victorious bellows. High-strung mounts collided, were forced off the line of play, then retaliated by bumping an opponent out of range of a shot. As brutal as the game seemed to her, few fouls were called.

  The rich appeared to enjoy playing rough.

  At the second break Christopher still didn’t bring Prince’s Pride to the sidelines. Jennifer noticed Jamie waving at him from the edge of the field, holding the bridle of one of his other horses. Christopher shook him off.

  “Damn him,” Jennifer muttered. She pushed up from her chair and jogged down the sideline to where the groom stood, looking annoyed. “What’s wrong, Jamie?”

  “Lord Smythe is like a madman t’day,” the older man grumbled. “If he don’t change horses soon, he’ll be killin’ off that handsome animal.”

  Jennifer’s chest tightened as she watched Prince’s Pride stumble through a fast turn. Christopher’s eyes were bright and fixed on the ball as he kicked the horse on. Prince snorted, strained, rolled his eyes but plunged on obediently.

  Impulsively Jennifer dashed down the edge of the field as close as possible to the tangle of horses and riders engulfed in a cloud of dust.

  “Christopher!” she shouted between cupped palms. “Take another horse!”

  He flashed her a wild look and kept on riding.

  “You’ll destroy him if you—” Three horses veered in her direction. She jumped out of their way. Christopher shot her a warning glare. “That arrogant jerk,” she swore.

  Her heart pounding, Jennifer ran back to Jamie.

  “Don’t be doin’ that, miss,” he warned. “It’s dangerous standin’ out on the field like that.”

  “Then give me that horse, and I won’t be standing,” she shouted above the noise of thundering hooves.

  He stared at her. “But Lord Smythe will be needin’ him in—”

  “He needs him right now, and he’s going to take him if I have to knock him off one damn horse and throw him onto the other.”

  Without waiting for a response, Jennifer seized the chestnut’s reins.

  It was fortunate that she had spent time riding between chores at Donan. The second horse was impatient to have his turn at the game. She was barely into the saddle before he broke into a gallop across the field. She didn’t even have to steer him in the right direction. His instincts led him directly toward the crowd of horses, milling wildly around the ball.

  A whistle shrieked, and shouts from the umpires brought play to a sudden halt. Christopher turned in his saddle with a puzzled glare and finally saw her riding toward him. “What the bloody hell are you—”

  “You,” she asserted, “are changing horses. Now, sir!” She brought the chestnut up close to Prince and slid from her saddle to the ground. Before Christopher could object, she gripped his mount’s bridle to prevent him from riding away.

  A burst of laughter rose from the dust-covered riders around them.

  “Guess she told you, Smythe!”

  “We know who’s boss at Castle Donan these days!”

  Jennifer feared the worst. Christopher had a temper, and his expression at the moment was black and volatile. Stepping closer, she reached up and laid her free hand on his knee as his horse’s breath rattled in and out of its heaving chest. Its muzzle was thick with white froth.

  “Kill yourself if you like,” she whispered urgently at him, “but don’t take this loyal creature with you.”

  Christopher stared at her in disbelief. No one ever interrupted play other than the ref or the umpires, and even they sometimes had trouble making themselves heard in a heated game. Jennifer was dwarfed by the ten restless horses and their athletic riders milling around her.

  The rage drained from his heart. He was amazed by her nerve. Slowly his mind cleared and he took stock of his mount’s condition. The horse’s massive ribs expanded and contracted with effort; its forelegs were trembling; its coat streamed sweat. Another ten minutes, and he might have ruined him forever.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff with exertion as he pressed a damp palm over her hand and slid off Prince.

  They walked the two horses to a table where cold drinks had been set out for the players. Jamie took Prince’s Pride away for a good rubdown and rest, a
nd Christopher drank thirstily from a bottle of spring water.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get your money for the schools,” she said, although she knew it was more than charity that drove him to gamble with his life.

  Eventually Christopher’s team won by a handsome margin, even with their handicap. But he was so exhausted they decided not to stay for Emma’s dinner that evening.

  “Would you mind driving?” he asked as he pulled off his muddy shirt and riding breeches, using the horse van as a changing room.

  She handed him a clean shirt and pants. “I actually get to drive the Jaguar?” she teased. “You must really be tired to trust her to a female driver.”

  “If I can trust her to anyone, it would be you.” He smiled wearily at her. “While you drive, I’ll count the spoils.”

  Fifteen minutes later Jennifer steered the sports car onto the back road leading to Donan.

  “How much did we take in?” she asked, feeling like the getaway driver after a bank heist. She could see twenty-and hundred-pound notes, but also a dozen or more checks for amounts that danced with zeroes.

  Christopher added up the proceeds silently. “Nearly five thousand.”

  She gasped. “Five-thousand pounds!”

  He laughed. “Should buy those little ruffians some new books and three or four computers for their classrooms, don’t you think?”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jennifer said, then turned her attention to the road. He watched her drive for a while, then dozed off in the passenger seat as the adrenaline in his system slowly seeped away. When he opened his eyes, she was slanting a questioning look at him.

  “Awake now?” she asked.

  “Yup. Good as new.” Except when he moved a sharp pain jabbed at his left side, which made him wonder if he might have cracked a rib.

  “Great, I have an interesting thought,” she said cautiously as she passed a slow-moving lorry. “Why don’t I take the train into London someday this week, by myself.”

  “To buy furniture?” he guessed.

  “To have lunch with Lady Ellington.”

  It felt as if she had driven a blade into his chest. Christopher straightened in the passenger seat but said nothing.