The Hazards of Hunting a Duke

by Julia London

  She found the cottage easily enough, but when she knocked on the door, young Edmond Foote opened it.

  “Mr. Foote, we meet again, but under less pleasant circumstances,” she said. “Where is your father?”

  “Setting traps, mu’um.”

  “Then is your mother within?”

  “She’s in heaven.”

  “Oh dear.” Ava glanced up at the sky. The sun had started its descent into late afternoon. “All right, then, young man, you are the one who must help me. You must go to the abbey at once and tell Mr. Dawson there has been an accident.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. “What sort of accident?” he asked eagerly, coming out of the cottage to have a look around, obviously hoping the accident had occurred close by.

  Ava clamped a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. “Edmond, listen carefully. The footman has broken his ankle. You must go to the abbey and bring help.”

  “But I’m not allowed at the abbey,” he said, looking very concerned.

  Good God, was the child allowed anywhere but the forest? “You have my special permission,” she said. “Now go at once.”

  Edmond glanced uneasily at the cottage behind him.

  “Now, Edmond. I will speak to your father and tell him that I demanded you go.”

  “Yes, mu’um,” he said, and set out at a run.

  “I will meet you at the fork!” Ava shouted after him.

  Jared returned from his rounds to his tenants at teatime, having determined that he should be more accommodating to his young bride until she was accustomed to their arrangement. But instead of finding her painting or sewing, or whatever it was wives did to occupy their time, he found a rather frantic Dawson.

  In all the years of their association, he’d never seen Dawson in such a state. “What is it?” Jared asked.

  “It is Lady Middleton, my lord. She walked to the village—”

  “Walked?”

  “I said that she shouldn’t, but she insisted. I sent Robert, the footman, along with her, but they’ve been gone too long. Billy has just come back from the village, but could find neither hide nor hair of them.”

  The edge of panic nosed Jared. He would never forgive himself if something had happened.

  He quickly strode outside with the intention of getting his mount and riding the walking path himself, but he was brought up short by the appearance of a boy on the drive. He knew the boy—of course he knew him. He’d seen him about the grounds, but he’d never seen him so close and was taken aback.

  The boy looked frightened and was wringing his wool cap in his hands. “I know I’m not to come to the house, my lord, but the marchioness sent me.”

  “Where is she?” Jared asked, snapping out of his surprise. “Is she all right?”

  “There’s been an accident,” the child said, and Jared felt his heart plummet.

  He caught the boy by the shoulder and shook him, forcing him to look up at him. “What sort of accident? Is she all right?”

  “She is!” he cried. “It’s the footman! He’s broken his ankle!”

  Jared instantly let go of the boy and turned to the servants who had rushed outside to see what had happened. “Have Billy bring two mounts—he and I will go and fetch them.”

  One of the footmen began running, and Jared turned and looked at the boy, his gaze taking in his face—his dark red lips, the tilt of his nose. His eyes…his eyes. “Well done, Edmond,” he said quietly, and the child’s face broke into a gap-toothed smile.

  By the time Jared and Billy found Ava and the footman, they had been rescued from the stream by the gamekeeper. Jared swung down from his mount, then helped Edmond down. Edmond had ridden in front of Jared, leaning forward, stroking the horse’s mane along the way. The boy ran to his father, who instantly put a protective arm around him and held him close to his side.

  “Mr. Foote,” Jared said, acknowledging the gamekeeper. “Your son is to be commended for coming to the marchioness’s aid.”

  The man nodded and glanced at Robert, who was gritting his teeth as Billy, Jared’s longtime grounds-keeper, had a look at his ankle. “I was setting traps for the boar,” Mr. Foote said, “and I come across them, down by the stream.”

  Jared nodded and swallowed hard. “It would seem I owe you yet another debt of thanks,” he said, but Mr. Foote shrugged and tightened his grip on his son.

  Jared moved to Ava’s side. The light was beginning to dim, but he could see her muddied walking gown and the thick strands of hair that had fallen loose from her bonnet. Robert was as gray as a winter sky.

  Jared didn’t say much—he couldn’t seem to find his voice, either from relief that she was unharmed or anger that she’d come so close to harm. He helped Billy put Robert on the back of Billy’s mount, then moved to put Ava on his horse. But she darted away from him, to the side of the path and a bundle he’d not noticed before that moment. She picked it up, walked back to his horse, and stuffed it into the bonnet that was hanging from her wrist.

  He looked into her eyes; she smiled a little. “Sweetmeats, from the confectioner’s shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Still unable to speak without emotion, he shook his head, put his hands to her waist, and lifted her up, setting her atop the big gray he’d ridden. “Hold on to the pommel,” he told her.

  Ava shifted her bundle and held on to the pommel as instructed. Jared swung up behind her and put his arms securely around her, her bare head tucked beneath his chin.

  He sent the bay trotting along the path. Billy and Robert would follow behind, but at a slower pace to keep the pain from Robert’s ankle as best they could.

  When they were a good distance from Billy, Jared said, “Lady Middleton, you are not to walk to Broderick.”

  “But I—”

  “You may have a carriage take you, or you may ride horseback in the company of a servant. If you do not ride, I will teach you, but you are not to walk. Am I perfectly clear?”

  “Perfectly,” she said in a small voice.

  He let another moment pass and asked her gently, “Do you ride?”

  She said nothing for a moment; her hand went to the nape of her neck, as if she were somehow debating her answer. At last, she admitted, “I do not.”

  “Then I shall teach you when I have returned from Marshbridge.”

  She said nothing at all, but slowly sank back against him, her head on his shoulder, the warm weight of her against his chest.

  He dropped one arm from the reins, slipped it around her middle, and held her tightly to him. He took in the rosewater scent of her hair, felt the softness of her body, and felt that little nudge inside him, just as he’d felt when Dawson had said she’d gone missing.

  It was the edge of panic again, only a panic born of a different sort of fear entirely.

  Twenty

  M iddleton did not come to Ava’s suite that night, nor did he invite her to his, but the next morning, she was startled awake by him standing over her bed. She gasped and quickly pushed herself up.

  He said nothing, just gazed down at her. He was dressed to go out, his cloak draped over his shoulders. He held gloves in one hand that he kept slapping into the palm of his other hand.

  Ava pushed herself up a little farther and brushed the braid of her hair over her shoulder. “My lord?”

  His gaze swept over her, from the top of her hair to the shape of her feet beneath the bedcovers. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes,” she said uncertainly.

  He nodded and slapped the gloves against his hand again. “I’m to Marshbridge,” he said. “I shall return in a day or two.”

  She nodded.

  He smiled a little lopsidedly. “I am personally informing you,” he added, and sat on the edge of her bed. He leaned close to her and looked her in the eye. “You are not to walk to Broderick, madam.”

  Ava sighed and rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “I am very well aware of that. You’ve mentioned it more than once.”

  Mi
ddleton’s gaze roamed over her once more. He lifted his hand, brushed her bare collarbone, then trailed his fingers into the gap of her nightgown, between her breasts. When he lifted his gaze again, it seemed to be simmering, and Ava suppressed a shiver. He looked as if he intended to speak, as if he wanted to speak…but he pressed his lips together, put his hand to her cheek, and kissed her.

  Carefully, achingly, he kissed her.

  Ava wrapped her hand around his wrist, sought to put her other hand on his chest. But Middleton stopped her by covering her hand with his and lifting his head. He said nothing; he stood, put his hand to the crown of her head, and caressed her hair. “Good day,” he said, and strode out, his cloak snapping around his ankles.

  When he’d gone out, Ava grabbed her pillow tightly to her, sank back into the feather mattress, and wished again that he would love her, if only a little.

  All day long, Ava felt she was being watched by a chicken hawk. Wherever she went, Mr. Dawson or Miss Hillier seemed to be nearby.

  Miss Hillier, Ava was learning, was a very disapproving woman. She kept rattling off all the things a marchioness would never do, such as walk to town. Or feed the chickens. Or tidy up her own room. Or inquire after a footman and his ankle, which, Miss Hillier assured her, was doing perfectly well.

  It was as if Lady Purnam’s spirit had come to reside in Miss Hillier.

  With the constant watching after her, Ava felt trapped inside the enormous Broderick Abbey. It was old and drafty and quite damp, but worse than anything, there was absolutely no life there. It seemed as if everyone just toiled in their daily labors.

  After luncheon, Ava walked outside. The day was warm and bright, and she wandered in the direction of the lake she’d seen the first day she had come to Broderick Abbey. It was near the entrance to the estate, she recalled, and indeed, she found it within a mile of the house. She stood at the edge of the water, breathing in the fresh air.

  A flock of swans swimming furiously to the middle of the lake caught her attention, and she saw the reason for their distress: On the left bank was Edmond Foote. Ava lifted her hand high above her head and waved. Edmond waved back.

  He was fishing, she realized, and she decided to have a look at what he’d caught. She walked around the lake, finally reaching him. “Any luck?” she asked as she made her way down to the water’s edge.

  “No, mu’um. I think my line is caught,” he said, and tugged at the string. He started to move toward the water’s edge, but Ava quickly stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

  “Your father would not approve of you going into the lake, young man. I’ll fetch it for you,” she said, and sat down on the rock next to him to pull off her stockings and shoes.

  “You mustn’t put bare feet in lake water, mu’um. My mother said cold water on cold feet will catch your death. Didn’t your mother ever tell you so?”

  She laughed as she rolled off her stockings. “My mother told me many things, but never that.”

  “Where is your mother?” he asked curiously.

  “In heaven, like yours.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “Does she know you’ve been sent to Broderick Abbey?”

  He made it sound as if she’d been sent against her will, but she smiled and winked at him. “In a way, I think she does.”

  “I think mine does, too,” he said with a firm nod of his head.

  Ava stood up, picked up her skirts so that her legs were exposed from the knees down, and waded into the lake. The water was clear but frigid, and she winced with each step. The fishing line had caught on some debris, and with a bit of a tug, Ava was able to free it, much to the delight of young Edmond. He pulled in the line as Ava waded back to the shore.

  “Thank you, marchioness!” he said, picking up his bucket.

  “Wait!” she cried, still wading in. “Where are you off to?”

  “Home!” he shouted, and skipped off.

  “That’s a fine how do you do,” she muttered to herself, and took a step, sinking into mud up to her ankle. Drat. She pulled her foot free and stepped out of the water.

  “Good day!”

  With a gasp, Ava inadvertently dropped her skirt and looked up. A woman in a very fetching riding habit was atop her horse, on the rise above the lake, waving a gloved hand at Ava.

  “Oh dear God,” Ava whispered, and glanced down at her skirt. The hem was soaked and stained brown now.

  “Good day, good day!” the woman said again as she sent her horse down the slope. She was a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty—the sort, Ava thought, that was often painted around London.

  “May I introduce myself? I am Lady Kettle. My late husband’s estate borders yours.”

  “How do you do,” Ava said. “I am—”

  “Oh my goodness, I know who you are!” she cried cheerfully. “I would have made proper introduction at your wedding, but I only just yesterday returned from Scotland.”

  “Ah,” Ava said.

  Lady Kettle’s horse stopped just above Ava, and Lady Kettle smiled down at her, her gaze taking in Ava’s gown.

  “You will forgive me,” Ava said hastily. “I was helping the gamekeeper’s son free his fishing line.”

  “Who?” Lady Kettle asked, peering around the lake.

  “The gamekeeper’s son,” Ava said, and glanced over her shoulder. Around a bend in the lake, Edmond had stopped to throw rocks at the swans.

  “I wasn’t aware the gamekeeper had a son,” Lady Kettle said absently. “I hope you won’t mind my intrusion, Lady Middleton,” she said, turning her attention to Ava again, “but I saw your handsome husband this morning and he urged me to come and make your acquaintance.”

  Ava put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun as she looked up at Lady Kettle. “You saw him this morning?”

  “Mmm, we breakfasted,” she said, nodding, and at Ava’s look of confusion, she flicked her wrist and said cheerfully, “Oh, I’ve known him for ages, since we were children. We were often in one another’s company coming up.”

  Ava was still having trouble comprehending that her husband had left her this morning to breakfast with Lady Kettle. To breakfast with beautiful Lady Kettle.

  “Oh, I mustn’t forget, I’ve some medicinals from the surgeon for your footman. They should ease his pain a bit.”

  “Oh,” Ava said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “He told you of our accident.”

  “I heard of it in Broderick,” Lady Kettle corrected her.

  “You did?”

  Lady Kettle laughed at her astonishment. “We are a small parish, Lady Middleton. Word travels very fast. Almost as fast, I suppose, as it does in London.”

  “How remarkable,” Ava said, meaning it.

  “Poor Middleton is quite worried about you. ‘She walked all the way to Broderick,’ ” she said, mimicking him.

  Ava tried to smile, but there was something unsettling about Lady Kettle. Perhaps it was that her husband found time to call and breakfast with her when he might have breakfasted with his wife. Perhaps it was that during their breakfast, he talked to Lady Kettle of his worry about his wife. Whatever it was, Ava suddenly felt very much the outsider.

  “I thought to invite you to have a ride in the near future. The weather has been glorious and there are so many pleasing vistas around the abbey.”

  Of course Lady Kettle would know of the vistas around the abbey. Ava, on the other hand, was hardly allowed to walk to the lake unescorted.

  “Would you like that?”

  “I would,” Ava said, but then remembered that her husband had yet to teach her. “That is, when my husband teaches me how to ride.”

  “You could have no better instructor. I speak from experience—he taught me,” Lady Kettle said, and laughed gaily. “And he still insists on instructing me, even though I am an accomplished rider.”

  Ava’s laugh sounded forced. She could well imagine that he had taught Lady Kettle. She was beautiful, and quite cheerful. And her riding habit, Ava thought,
was to be envied.

  “Well, then, I will leave you to your fishing, Lady Middleton. May I call again?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I can scarcely wait to tell Middleton that we’ve met and I find you absolutely charming.”

  Ava smiled, folding her arms tightly across her, and hoped that Lady Kettle would at least leave out the part about her sloshing about in the lake. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

  “I look forward to a time we can come to know one another.”

  “Yes, that would be lovely,” Ava said, wishing she’d never come to the lake, that she’d never taken off her shoes or her stockings.

  Feeling at sixes and sevens, Ava put on her stockings and shoes and made her way back to the abbey, where the sight of a plain black coach on the drive relieved and rejuvenated her at once. Sally!

  By the time Ava had reached the drive, Sally had climbed, rather lazily, out of the coach, put her hands to her back, and stretched backward. “Bloody awful road,” she said as Ava bounced to a halt before her, just ahead of Dawson. She glanced at Ava’s gown. “What have you done to your gown, mu’um?”

  “I’m so glad to see you, Sally,” Ava said, and threw her arms around her lady’s maid to Dawson’s complete shock, judging by his expression. She let go and turned to Dawson. “Might I introduce you to my lady’s maid, Miss Pierce.”

  Sally curtsied. Dawson looked at her, then at Ava. And the hem of her dress. “Very good, madam,” he said, as if he didn’t quite know what to say, and pointed a footman to Sally’s bags. “I will show her to her quarters.”

  “In a moment,” Ava said. “I should like a word with her first.” She linked her arm through Sally’s, tugging her along.

  As they stepped into the abbey, Sally pulled back and let out a low whistle. “Quite grand, ain’t it?” she said, her voice full of awe as she turned around in a circle.

  “Quite,” Ava said, and grabbed Sally’s hand. “Come on, then—there will be ample opportunity to gape at it.” She pulled Sally up the curving staircase, down the long corridor to her suite, opened the door, pushed Sally through, and shut it behind her.