“Thank you, Miss Richardson.” He cleared his throat. “Your messenger must have gotten lost on the way here to announce your arrival,” he said in a careful tone. “So, you must forgive me if your rooms are not ready. I’ll have Cook prepare some refreshments in the drawing room.”
“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” Simon said.
He led them out of his office toward the drawing room down the hall. However, as they made their way, a small figure darted down the hallway.
“Uncle Reed!” came William’s boisterous laugh. “She’s coming after me! Help!”
He bent down to catch his nephew before he bumped into him or his guests, but as he looked up, his gaze crashed into brilliant blue eyes.
Elise seemed just as surprised to see him, and she suddenly stopped to a halt a few inches from him. Her chest rose and fell from exertion, and she let out a series of quick breaths. “Your … Grace.” She curtseyed. “We were playing and—”
“Elise is so good at tag,” William declared. “She’s caught me twice already, and I thought if I ran inside, she wouldn’t be able to find me. I’m sorry to bother you, Uncle Reed.”
“You’re not a bother at all, William. But young lords shouldn’t run inside the house,” he said as he put William down, though he couldn’t help but smile and ruffle his hair. He glanced up at Elise again, but she averted his gaze. He couldn’t blame her but couldn’t stop himself from admiring her in her light blue morning gown which clung to her curves. A rope of her brazen red hair had escaped her coiffure and curled around her delicate, swan-like neck.
A cough from behind made him startle. “Your Grace,” Viscount Daly began. “Why don’t you introduce us to your nephew and his, uh, friend?”
Reed straightened his spine. “Of course.” He introduced William to the three before turning to Elise. “And this is Miss Elise Henney. She’s our … guest from America.”
“How do you do?” Elise said.
“An honor, Miss Henney.” Viscount Daly took her gloved hand and kissed it.
“Lovely to meet you,” Elise greeted back.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Simon said.
Reed’s wolf suddenly began to growl at him and he was glad the Richardsons weren’t Lycan. But why his wolf was acting that way, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was the way Viscount Daly’s lips seemed to linger too long on her hand or Simon’s eyes quickly darted down her décolletage.
“We should be off.” Reed patted William on the head. “Run along now, William. Miss Henney.” With a quick nod, he sidestepped them and proceeded down the hallway to the drawing room, ignoring his wolf’s protests.
Since Reed’s unexpected guests had decided to stay for two days, he couldn’t avoid joining the evening’s dinner. Eleanor was not too pleased with newcomers, but she could hardly say anything since it was his home. Grandmama, on the other hand, welcomed their presence. “He’s the perfect test,” she had said. “A member of the ton, so he knows how to act in society, yet he’s been away long enough that he doesn’t hold too much influence if any of the girls have any missteps.”
After his valet helped him dress in his customary evening formalwear, he headed down to the library for drinks. Everyone was already there, even Jeremy, who had arrived sometime in the afternoon. He was chatting with the dowager duchess, while Signore Rossi, Eleanor, Cross, Bridget, and Julianna were sitting on the settee by the fireplace listening to Viscount Daly talk about his home in the West Indies. However, his gaze was once again drawn toward Elise who looked stunning in a green satin evening gown. A dark, unknown feeling stabbed through him when he saw Simon Richardson talking to her, which only grew when Elise laughed at something he must have said.
Ignoring his own family—and all propriety—his strode toward them, hands clenched at his sides.
“And so, while I was chasing the puppy—” Simon’s blue eyes widened when he saw Reed approach. “Your Grace.” He dipped his head. “Good evening.”
Elise’s mouth parted, and even as she curtseyed, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how soft and delicious it was the other night when he kissed her. That night seemed like it was a long time ago. “Good evening. I trust your rooms are comfortable, Mr. Richardson?” He wasn’t above reminding the young fop who owned this house.
“They are, Your Grace,” he answered. “Thank you.”
His eyes darted toward Elise. She was doing that thing again where she was looking right through him. It damn well irritated him. “It seems I’ve interrupted your story. Please, go on.”
“It wasn’t important, Your Grace,” Simon said.
“Your Grace.” Beatrice Richardson seemingly popped up from nowhere. “Good evening.” She gave a low curtsey, bending forward slightly so he could see the daring neckline of her silver evening dress. “Thank you for being such a generous host to us.”
“My pleasure,” he said, giving her a bright smile. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Elise’s narrowed gaze and flared nostrils at the arrival of the other woman. Interesting.
“Dinner is served,” came Edwards’s announcement.
“Miss Richardson, may I have the honor?” He offered his arm to her.
Her face lit up. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She took his arm, her smile wide.
As they walked out, he heard Simon offer his arm to Elise and while he felt a flash of anger, he buried it deep inside along with his wolf’s yowls. When they arrived at the dining room, he escorted Beatrice to her chair which was in the middle of the table seeing as she wasn’t one of the higher ranking ladies. He took his seat at the head, while Grandmama took the opposite end. Much to his dismay, Simon was seated next to Elise and he had to watch him charm her—and the other ladies around him—through most of the dinner.
“You know, that veal is already dead,” Eleanor remarked.
“Excuse me?”
She looked at his plate. “Your veal. It’s already cooked and dead, you don’t have to torture it.”
He froze and realized that he was holding his knife and fork with a vice-like grip and had viciously cut the meat into tiny pieces without eating a single morsel. “Very funny, Ellie.”
“Your Grace,” Viscount Daly said. “Is it true you’re having some unseasonably warm weather lately?”
“That’s what my gardeners told me,” Reed answered.
“Maybe we could have a tour of the estate?” Daly continued. “I’ve heard that Huntington Park is the most splendid estate in England. Even grander than the royal palace.”
“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Reed said. “But it had been expanded and kept up well.”
“How about a picnic?” Beatrice suggested. “It would be a shame not to take advantage of the weather.”
Reed snorted. “I don’t—”
Eleanor placed a firm hand on his arm. “It will be a nice break for everybody.” She glanced at Bridget, Julianna, and Elise. “I’m sure we would all enjoy it.”
He was about to protest when his grandmother chimed it. “What a splendid idea.” The dowager duchess waved away the footman who moved closer to refill her wine. “We should definitely have a picnic.”
“It must be so beautiful this time of year,” Signore Rossi said. “I’m eager to see the beauty of the English countryside, and perhaps I shall be inspired to paint.”
“There’s nothing more beautiful,” the duchess said. “I’ve always loved the grounds of Huntington Park, though I didn’t agree with all the newer additions.”
Though she hid her smile behind her napkin, Eleanor’s grin reached her eyes and he knew exactly what she was thinking and what their grandmother was referring to.
Their parents’ passion for each other was no secret, and they expressed it in many different ways. One way was a private garden they had built on the estate filled with erotic statues they had collected from all over the continent. “Lovemaking is a beautiful thing,” his father had said when he showed Reed the private area when he was coming of age. “E
specially with your mate. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”
Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Elise again. Her head was turned to her right, chatting with Julianna, and his eyes immediately went to her exposed neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have just stopped so soon the other night. He would have liked to nuzzle down all the way to her—
“Reed.” Eleanor’s voice was firm. “How about it? A picnic tomorrow?”
He focused his attention back to his meal. “A picnic it is.” If everyone was going, he supposed it wouldn’t be too bad. And he could always talk business with Lord Daly and head back to the house if things got too boring which picnics often did.
“Excellent, I’ll have Mrs. Jameson arrange it,” Eleanor said.
Reed took a sip of his wine, contemplating leaving the picnic after an hour or so. Yes, that was a good plan. He would show up as he didn’t want to offend his guests, especially Viscount Daly, then he would make his excuses.
Beatrice sent him a knowing glance and a small smile, lifting her glass of wine toward him boldly. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that she was trying to flirt with him and normally he wouldn’t have entertained such thoughts, especially from a young miss and the daughter of a future partner in a lucrative business deal. However, it didn’t escape his notice that Elise was currently shooting daggers at Miss Richardson.
Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be boring at all.
Chapter Eight
“You look lovely, miss,” Melinda said as she gave Elise a final inspection.
“This riding habit is lovely,” she corrected, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. Despite what the maid said, she could only see the dark circles under her eyes and the sallow color of her skin, which was the result of long, sleepless nights.
Despite the fact that they spent two nights here, they still only had time to search twenty rooms so far. It was difficult to get into the more private rooms—such as the east wing where Reed, Eleanor and Jeremy, and the dowager duchess were staying because during the day there were dozens of servants milling about and at night, the family was there. They had tried their best to get more information out of Eleanor, but it sounded like she didn’t know anything either, while the duchess barely spoke to them unless it was to correct whatever mistake she and Julianna had made during their “lessons.”
It was frustrating to say the least, but Elise was glad that between her days with the dowager and nights searching for the dagger, she didn’t have time to think about Reed.
Except maybe right before she fell into bed, exhausted.
Or as soon as she woke up.
Or when she was dazing off into space while the dowager was giving some lecture about appropriate topics for small talk.
Ugh.
Damn Reed. Why did he have to go and kiss her? And, more important, why wasn’t he shocked into a coma?
Not all witches and warlocks had a power, but as her mother was one of those “blessed” with one, it wasn’t far off that she would be, too. It manifested itself when she was four years old, and she had shorted their entire house’s electrical system when she touched a power outlet. Uncle Daric had bound her powers after that, and while he unbound them when she was fourteen, she never could control it, no matter how many lessons she got from Lara or Daric.
And of course, her cursed power malfunctioned at the worst time and hurt the last person she kissed—the love of her life and best friend.
To this day, no one knows how or why it happened. One moment Chris had his lips on her and then the next, electricity was coursing through his body. They were just outside the house, so she ran into the house, calling her mother and father for help and brought Chris to the hospital.
While they were able to help cover up the whole incident, they couldn’t help Chris. He was in a coma for three months, and when he woke up, he couldn’t remember what happened. While he was asleep, her parents had whisked her away, sending her to live in upstate New York with her grandmother until she went to college. Chris had tried getting in contact with her, but she couldn’t bear to see him again and told him to forget about her. She knew she hurt him, but it was for his own good. Last she heard he was married with a kid on the way.
And here she was. Still stuck with a power she couldn’t control or want. The gloves helped keep the electricity from harming anyone else, and she didn’t dare get too close to anyone ever again, afraid that the touch of her bare skin would send someone else into a coma.
That is, until Reed Townsend.
“Miss?” Melinda’s voice was full of concern. “Are ye all right? Ye seem like a million miles away.”
Over two hundred years away, she corrected mentally. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She wished she had some concealer. “The outfit really is lovely.” It was lemon yellow, perfect for a picnic on a sunny day and had sturdy leather boots to match.
“I’m sure Mr. Richardson will like it,” the maid said with a grin.
She laughed. “Simon? What makes you say that?”
“Oh, you know …” Melinda raised a brow. “Us downstairs people, we talk. And the footmen said that handsome devil was payin’ ye particular attention, out of all the lovely ladies during dinner.”
“He was sitting beside me, so that could be why he was giving me all his attention.” Simon really was handsome—exactly what she thought a hero in a regency romance would be like. But there was something about him … or rather, something that just wasn’t there.
“Whatever you say, miss.” Melinda gave her a wink before asking to be excused.
Was Simon really into her? Well, maybe she would have noticed if that sister of his wasn’t making cow eyes at Reed the whole night. “Thank you for being such a generous host to us,” she mocked into the mirror, copying Beatrice’s high-pitched, posh tone and twirling a lock of hair with her finger while cocking her hip like some high-school girl.
Stop it. She righted her posture and smoothed her hands down her gown. It was just a stupid kiss, and soon they would find the dagger and be back home and Reed would be far away.
A thought made her chest ache. In the future, Reed would not be around at all. He would be gone.
“Elise! C’mon.”
Turning her head, she saw Julianna’s head poking through the door. “You’re running late. We were supposed to meet everyone in the stables five minutes ago.”
“The stables?” She hoped Julianna was joking.
But she was not.
“Don’t ye worry, miss,” the groom said as he led a mare to her. They didn’t actually have to go into the stables as the grooms and stable hands were assisting everyone with their horses, but still, it was intimidating to be around the huge beasts. “This is one of my gentlest ones.”
Looking over her shoulder, she saw everyone else seemed to be more relaxed around the horses. Even Julianna and Cross had mounted their rides with ease.
“I, uh …” Nervousness made her hand shake as she accepted the reins. Sure, she worked at an animal shelter and was really good with animals, but she’d never actually ridden one before. And this horse seemed so huge.
“Miss Henney, may I be of some help?”
She turned around and saw Simon Richardson behind her, looking handsome and well put-together in a dark blue velvet riding jacket, brown breeches, and calfskin boots. He held a hat under one arm. If she really was a miss from this era, she probably would have swooned.
“Um, I’ve actually never ridden before.” And certainly not side-saddle.
“Don’t worry, Miss Henney.” He fixed his hat on his head. “Please. Allow me.” Simon linked his hands together and lowered them. “Place your left foot here and then hold on to my right shoulder.”
While she thought a ladder would have been a better idea, the groom didn’t seem to object. With a shrug, she followed his instructions.
“All right, straighten your knee … that’s it.” Slowly, he raised his cupped hands and lifted her up. Her body brushed against his, a fact
that he seemed fully aware of as his lips curled into a lazy smile. A shiver ran through her—and not the good kind.
“There now,” he said as she settled into the saddle. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“Not at all.” She tried not to think of how close he was and how his hand was on her mare’s flank which meant it was only inches from her thigh.
Suddenly, a thunderous sound came from behind the stables. A large black horse galloped toward them, stopping short just a few feet from Simon. Of course it was him.
Dressed in all black and sitting atop the huge black stallion, Reed looked like he had ridden from hell itself. “Mr. Richardson,” he began, his voice flat and his expression looked like he was ready to bite someone’s head off. “Perhaps you should get on your own horse, so we may proceed. You’re the only one not mounted yet.”
“I was just helping Miss Henney get on her horse.” Simon cocked his head at her. “She’s never ridden a horse. I was thinking I could guide her mare alongside mine.”
“Benton will assist her from now on.” Reed signaled to the groom, who took the reins from Simon. “You needn’t bother.”
“Of course.” Simon nodded to Elise. “I’ll see you at the picnic then.”
“I’ll see you there,” she said to Simon sweetly, then glared at Reed. But she didn’t have time to retort to him as the groom began to lead her away.
The nerve of that man! Simon was only helping her. Sure, he was getting fresh, at least it was for this time, but Reed didn’t have to dismiss him like he was nothing. But then again, was she surprised? The man treated anyone he didn’t deem his equal with contempt.
Deciding not to let him ruin the one day she didn’t have to worry about dancing, table manners, or suitable dinner conversation subjects, Elise found herself admiring the beautiful countryside. Huntington Park really was breathtaking. Everything was so green and smelled so fresh. The rolling hills seemed to go on forever, and for a moment, she forgot all about her troubles and what brought her here as she just basked in the wonders of Mother Nature. Maybe it was the witch side of her—but she felt so much more connected to it out here where there was no pollution, no cars, no technology.
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