by Norma Darcy
“He is beautiful…you must own that he is, Emmy.”
“Spare me your impure thoughts, Lou, and concentrate on how we are to get our clothes back!”
“Where did we leave them?”
They peered over the edge again, their eyes scanning the delta of large flat rocks and rounded pebbles. “That rock down there. Just the other side of where their boots are, do you see? I can just make out the pink ribbon of your bonnet.”
“Oh it’s too far to make a run to it without being seen.”
“And what if they come out of the water…?”
Louisa swallowed on a laugh. “We will go down there together and call to them from behind that big rock at the bottom. It will shield us from their view. They will then bring our clothes to us.”
“They are stark naked!” said Emma, flushing at the thought.
“Then we will close our eyes until they are decent. Come on. You take the picnic basket and hold it in front of you.”
“It’s not big enough.”
Louisa choked on a laugh.
“Not that, the picnic basket!” said Emma in exasperation. “For God’s sake Louisa, get a grip on yourself.”
“What would Papa say if he could see us now?”
“Don’t even think it. Come on, follow me. Keep low and try to be as quiet as you can.”
The two girls crept slowly downwards, one rock at a time, sitting down where they could to keep out of sight. Emma kicked a stone that caused a miniature avalanche of pebbles and both of them froze, terrified lest they should be seen by the two men swimming in the pool below them. After what seemed like an age, they negotiated their way down to the big fat rock that marked the start of the upward path. Crouching behind it, Emma peered around the corner, saw one of the men had swam to the far side of the pool, almost behind the waterfall and she settled back against the rock. She looked at her sister, her eyes large with excitement.
“I think I can make a run for our clothes,” she said. “They are swimming around to the back.”
“Be quick then,” whispered Louisa.
In a trice she was gone and Louisa leaned her back thankfully against the cold side of the rock. It was then that she saw him.
The breath was driven from her lungs with shock. Standing directly in front of her was the Duke of Malvern, entirely naked and staring back at her in equal amazement. He hastily moved his hands to cover his modesty but not before Louisa had seen altogether too much for her peace of mind. He had come out of the lake, his hair was wet and slicked back from his forehead, the water had streamlined the hair on his chest into one dark vertical arrow that ran down the centre of his belly.
Louisa felt the colour flame in her cheeks and she rose to her feet, whirled around so fast that she caught her ankle in a hollow between two rocks and she fell, wincing with pain as her foot was twisted beneath her. She let out a cry of dismay, and the Duke, now wearing nothing more than a pair of hastily donned breeches, was coming after her. She hauled herself inelegantly on to a rounded rock and felt wave after wave of stabbing pain pulse through her foot.
“Louisa, are you alright?”
“Your grace, go away… you are not…decent. Come to think of it, I’m not decent either!” she said, wrapping her arms across her breasts.
“You’ve hurt yourself. Let me look…dammit woman, let me see.”
“It’s fine…really. I just stumbled, that’s all.”
He picked up her foot and gently pushed the hem of her chemise up above her knees. Louisa flushed and tried to pull it down again. He had one hand on her calf; she felt the cold wet touch of his fingers as if they were red hot.
“I’m fine…really,” she murmured.
“If you will permit me, my lady? I’m trying to see if it’s broken.”
“It’s not broken. I twisted it.”
She carefully arranged her gaze on a distant clump of trees as he examined her foot. He had gooseflesh on his upper arms and water droplets on the muscles of his chest. How did she know that? Had she been looking? She felt suddenly very hot, as if she were sitting inside a furnace. He was so close, his shoulders filled her vision and she had to concentrate very hard on her distant clump of trees.
“No, it’s not broken, at least I don’t think it is but you ought not to put any weight on it. Wait here while I get dressed,” he said, rising to his feet. “My horse is over there, I’ll give you a ride back to Foxhill.”
“And my clothes, sir? My sister has gone to fetch them from that rock over there.”
“Wait here,” he said curtly and strode back to the rock where his and Ashworth’s clothes were laid out. He picked up his coat and came back across the pebbles as if they were using stepping stones and handed it to her.
“You’re cold,” he said softly, his eyes drifting down the length of her damp chemise as she unfolded her arms to put his coat on.
She could not answer him. She knew that he’d gotten quite as good a look at her as she had of him. She shuddered, folding the material about her to shield herself from his gaze.
“I’ll…er…I’ll go and get dressed then,” he said without moving a muscle.
“I’ll go and find Emma.”
“You may not wish to do that at this precise moment in time. Marcus is just coming out of the water.”
“Oh…but what about Emma―?”
They must have heard the shriek three miles away in Netherby.
“I think she has just seen rather more than she bargained for,” said his grace with more than a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Well, don’t just stand there! Do something.”
He spread his hands, half laughing. “Like what? It’s not my fault.”
“Go and take him his clothes, for God’s sake. And while you’re at it, put yours on too.”
“Hark at you, miss, sitting there in nothing more than a shift, which I may tell you does not leave an awful lot to my imagination.”
Colour blistered her face and she tugged his coat closer around her. “Your imagination, sir, can do what it likes!”
“Oh it is. It is running riot, let me assure you,” he replied softly, his eyes warm with amusement and something else, something that made her heart skip a beat.
“Go!”
He turned away grinning, and Louisa struggled to keep the smile from her face.
* * *
Louisa picked up her bonnet and rammed it down over her hair.
She was dressed and decent and her eyes met the Duke’s fully for the first time since he had come out of the water completely naked. Her face burned every time her traitorous mind conjured up the image of his athletic body.
Malvern held his hat in his hands, staring down at it as he rotated it between his fingers. “My lady, allow me to apologise…for earlier, I mean. I had not intended…I mean…I would never have wished for you to have witnessed…such a shock for a young lady.”
Louisa’s unruly bottom lip began to wobble and she clamped her teeth down hard upon it.
“Indeed, I am quite overcome,” she said in an unsteady voice.
“I am mortified that you should have seen me so…so…”
“Exposed?” she managed, a handkerchief to her mouth.
“Er…yes. I…um…hope that I have not ruined the friendship that I have begun to hold so dear.”
Malvern stared at her, worrying that he had grievously offended her, now just when they had become such easy friends. He cursed himself and the rotten misfortune that persuaded him to suggest to Mr Ashworth that they go for a swim to cool off. He frowned, wondering how he would ever win back her respect, when to his surprise, he saw a twinkle of laughter in her eyes. He watched as she lost the battle with her control and burst out laughing.
“Why you little…” he said, grinning.
“Oh Malvern!” she cried, wiping her eyes. “Your face!”
“I should throttle you. I was worried!”
Louisa went off into another peal of giggles.
/> “Wretch,” he said, laughing himself. “I thought I had mortally wounded your sensibilities!”
“Oh you have. Can you not tell?”
“You are horrible. You see a man completely stark naked and all you can do is laugh at him. My pride will never recover.”
“Oh lord, I haven’t laughed so much since Emma got her head stuck between the railings at Grandmama’s house!”
“Thank you,” said the Duke, dryly.
“I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at the situation.”
“You relieve me.”
“Dear sir, how could you think I would laugh at you? Indeed, you need not be so embarrassed. You saw me too, remember?”
“I do indeed remember. In fact I think it will be a long time before I forget it. But that was a very un-gentlemanly thing to say, and not at all the conversation for friends, and now you are blushing and I deserve that you should punish me for such a speech.”
She turned away, embarrassed. “I should, your grace.”
“I apologise then, if you wish me to,” he said, and then more seriously, a frown between his brows: “You were not…offended?”
“Not in the least,” she returned airily. “Now let us go out into the sunshine for it grows chilly.”
He followed her as she limped out from the shade of the trees and walked towards his horse, grazing by the fence.
“Wait there, I shall fetch my horse. I do not think you should try and walk on that ankle. It is already swollen.”
She grasped the branch of a nearby tree, standing on one leg to keep the weight off her sore foot.
The Duke brought his horse over to her and the animal nuzzled her arm.
“Oh, is she yours?” Louisa asked raising a hand to stroke the horse’s nose.
“No, I stole her.”
She threw him a laughing look.
“Yes, she is mine. Turn towards me and I will lift you up,” the Duke responded coming up beside her.
Louisa’s heart began to pound. Was he suggesting that she share the horse with him? Was he suggesting that she sit on his lap within the circle of his arms, her head against his shoulder? She tried not to imagine riding thus. She tried to tell herself that it was highly improper and that she did not want such intimacy with him, but to no avail. Her mind was running riot.
“But I don’t have a lady’s side-saddle,” she said softly.
“Do you need one?”
She stared at him. “Are you suggesting that I ride that saddle?” she demanded, blushing at the thought of spreading her legs wide over the horse’s back, her gown riding up around her hips.
“I might be,” he replied with a slow smile. “You must have ridden thus when you were a child.”
“Oh, yes, but…” She could not go on.
“I will set you down long before the house. No-one need know.”
Louisa felt her stomach plummet with disappointment. He was treating her as if she were a child! She bit her tongue to stop the angry retort that sprang to her lips. He thought he was giving her a high treat as he might have done to a small child. A ride on his horse. Was he to ask her if she wanted to play jackstraws next?
“But it is highly improper, your grace.”
“So is marching about the countryside without a stitch on. Come. I am not such a dull creature all the time, you know.”
She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t think you were, sir.”
He looked amused but let it pass and held out a hand to her. She did not take it.
“I am not used to riding that saddle sir,” she said. “I might fall.”
“Nonsense. Come, I will lift you.”
“Is there not another way for me to ride home?” she asked, blushing at her own brazenness.
He dropped the hand that had been extended in invitation, misreading her reluctance to take it for a rejection of him. He looped the reins of his horse around the branch of the tree and smiled into her uncertain eyes. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Do you think I am such a poor judge of horseflesh that my mare will land you in the ditch?” he teased.
“I am sure that she won’t.”
“Perhaps you think a man of my advanced years should not be purchasing such a creature and risk over exciting himself in such a fashion. What did you recommend for me? A landau?”
She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Did that offend you, Duke?”
“Offend me? No. It mortally wounded my pride. I am thirty two; not one hundred and thirty two.”
She laughed. “I apologise then. But Nicholas says you are too old for me,” she said.
“I know he does. He no doubt put the idea in your head that I am too old to ride a horse. And do you…do you think I am too old for other things too?” he asked softly.
“What things?” she countered, blushing.
He took a step forward and then another until he was less than six inches away from her. Her eyes met his. They held each other’s gaze in a long breathless moment that set her pulse racing.
“Chess?” he suggested after a long moment of exquisitely tense silence.
She laughed nervously, knowing full well that the noble game of chess was not the activity currently occupying both their minds. “Chess?”
“Very strenuous, you know,” he murmured. “Could sprain a thumb if one is not careful.”
“No,” she replied breathlessly, “I don’t think you too old for…chess.”
He reached out a hand and smoothed a wisp of hair away from her eyes. “Quite right,” he agreed.
She shivered but it was not from the cold.
He placed his hands upon her waist and in one smooth move lifted her high onto the back of his horse, his eyes never leaving hers. Her stomach flipped over as his hands held her aloft. She felt powerless and ridiculously alive as if every nerve in her body jumped at his touch.
“I am not going to ride home with that man,” said Lady Emma with a glare over her shoulder at Mr Ashworth who followed, looking mildly amused as he led his horse up to them. “I am not so lost to all propriety as to sit on the same horse as him, whatever he may think to the contrary.”
The spell was completely and utterly broken. Whatever magic had been in the air shattered like glass, and Louisa turned to hide her acute disappointment as Malvern walked away.
Chapter 9
Mrs Henry Trent, whose marital home was only a few miles from Foxhill, wrote to her mama with the news that Louisa was in the neighbourhood staying with their uncle and that the Duke of Malvern was often in attendance. They were getting on famously, declared Sophie, and she would not be at all surprised if her sister and the Duke did not make a match of it after all.
The arrival of her letter precipitated a need of Louisa’s father to oversee proceedings and it wasn’t long before the Earl and his Countess arrived uninvited to Foxhill to manage the situation to their own satisfaction.
However, within one hour of arriving at Mr King’s quiet country home, the peace of the beautiful Tudor manor house was seriously compromised.
“I will not!” cried Louisa, standing and flinging down her embroidery. “I will not marry him and you cannot make me!”
The Countess of Crowborough observed her daughter’s departure in long suffering silence. The door when it slammed caused a painting to shift on the wall, the gentleman and his wig now at an alarming angle.
Uncle Ned exchanged glances with his daughter. “More tea?” he asked in his soft voice.
Determined to catch Malvern in his noose before the Duke left for town again, the Earl had gone about the task in entirely the wrong manner. It was his view that Louisa was spoiled and all she needed was a firm hand.
“You are a fool, John,” Lady Crowborough said softly to her husband.
The Earl spread his hands. “What have I done?”
“All you will do is drive her into young Ashworth’s arms. Is that what you want?”
“Of c
ourse it isn’t. But you have seen her and Malvern together. They are getting along famously.”
“Yes,” replied her ladyship, pouring out another cup of tea. “And if you would just let things progress naturally, I think she would be very likely to have him. But she is like you and stubborn―now don’t fly up onto your high ropes, my love, you know that you are. When did you ever do anything that someone else ordered you to do?”
“This morning,” he replied promptly. “You told me specifically not to get marmalade on Ned’s newspaper because he particularly doesn’t like it. You ventured to drop me a hint and I was happy to obey.”
Mr King reddened and assured them that he did not mind such trifling matters as marmalade on his newspaper.
The Countess ignored this speech and sighed. “A hint, yes. Bludgeoning you with it would have met with a mulish determination to carry on as you were before.”
“So what would you have me do then? Let her throw herself away on that young buck who hasn’t two pennies to rub together?”
“Of course not. But I think that her affection for him, such as it is, will wear itself out before long. All we need do is wait.”
“She will marry Malvern!” he said, slamming his hand down upon the table. “It is the fondest wish of both her family and his.”
Lady Crowborough sighed, exchanged a meaningful glance with Eliza and gave up. She returned to her magazine, examining a fashion plate with some dismay. “Long sleeves are in fashion again.”
“How tedious,” agreed Miss Eliza King, nibbling a cake.
“Damn impudence!” rumbled his lordship. “That chit of a girl thinks she can run rings around me―”
“Primrose yellow too…do you think I would look well in yellow, my love? I did once have a gown that colour when I was expecting Sophie. I thought it became me rather well…”
“I’m fed up with being told what to do by the women in my house. Surrounded by ‘em! Four females are enough to drive any man to Bedlam.”
“Papa,” said Emma, coming into the room at that moment. “Whatever is the matter? I could hear you arguing the other side of the house!”
“Your sister!” responded the Earl wrathfully. “She’s still set against Malvern.”
