Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “They are his dependents. Even if you do not live with them, you’ll be thrown together on occasion. And his obligation toward them will be lifelong. It is to everyone’s advantage to see if you can tolerate them. The house party seems like a good way to test the waters.”

  “I would rather have the toothache.”

  “Lizzie, it’s for the best.”

  Lizzie considered the suggestion. She’d given little thought to what married life would be like with Riverton, beyond the no doubt glorious physical aspect of it, and their general compatibility. But the sisters and his mother truly would drive a vicar to murder. Could she tolerate them on those occasions when they were together? Could Marcus’s family tolerate her? Perhaps there was merit in spending some time together.

  Arthur watched the workings of Lizzie’s mind through her expressive face. She would never disgrace the family and she would certainly never abuse the trust of one of her brothers. She didn’t deserve to be used this way. And he’d be damned if he went through with it.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Pardon?” Arthur looked at her.

  “Riverton may not be especially close to his mother and sisters, but he doesn’t deserve to have a family constantly at war. I will go to this party to see if common ground can be found, although I must say the more likely outcome is that I push at least one of them into the river. The rapids are quite strong there, after all. And there is every chance Charlotte will set me on fire, like she did that poor servant.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Lizzie’s surprise couldn’t be more evident, making Arthur feel even more guilty. Did she really think he would send her off alone on such a wretched task? Because there was no doubt the party would be most unpleasant.

  “Surely that won’t be necessary. Aunt Prue and Mariah will chaperone me. I’ll also see if I can convince Rosalind to accompany us, if that horrid stepmother of hers will allow it.” Lizzie scowled and Arthur was once more struck by the openness of her countenance.

  Aunt Prue, Mariah and Rosalind would be no match for Stalford. Arthur knew he must go to protect his sister. “I shall find it a pleasure to accompany you….don’t snort. It is most unbecoming. I shall find great joy in accompanying my only sister on a trip to the Kentish countryside.”

  “I rather think you won’t let me escape your side, once Edith and Charlotte get you in their sights.”

  “I rather think I’ll keep a close eye on you, Lizzie dear. For all our sakes.”

  He left her with a quizzical look on her face, as he made haste to put a serious dent into his own stock of Lynwood’s purloined brandy.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Will you look at that, Lizzie,” said Aunt Prue as the carriage came through the forest, finally giving them a clear view of Riverton Farms. “It rivals even Lynwood Manor in beauty.”

  The view was indeed breathtaking. But, even more than that, the vast property reminded Lizzie of the many responsibilities she’d be taking on as the new Marchioness of Riverton. Her Aunt Agatha had spent an interminable morning with her the day before, first lecturing her on the complete impropriety of her treatise and how she was fortunate indeed that Riverton had not cried off, leaving her completely unmarriageable. Then she’d droned on and on about the many duties of a wife – except for the marital ones Lizzie wanted to hear about most.

  Lizzie looked out the carriage window at the enormous stone mansion that must be at least three hundred years old. The name Riverton Farms was accurate insomuch as the estate was a major producer of agricultural products. Tenant farms were well run and known for the quality of their crops. But the principal residence looked more like a royal retreat than a place where one organized a great farm. Lizzie wondered what Riverton wore when he was here. He was always so formally dressed in London. Did he ever venture out without a jacket here? Wear only shirtsleeves with a loosened cravat? She suddenly wished he were here, instead of tending to a crisis on another estate. She would like to see this land through his eyes. She wanted to observe the man on his own land, with his own people.

  Lizzie looked at Arthur, who was riding his horse beside the carriage. If anything, he looked even worse than he had a few days earlier when he’d first broached the idea of the house party. Lizzie had asked more than once if something was wrong and if she might do anything to help. But her offers had only made him more cross and out of sorts.

  Gentlemen could be so very difficult to understand.

  As if aware of her thoughts, Arthur turned to her. He looked like he wanted to say something, then shook his head, put heels to his horse and set off on a course across country, leaving the carriage to make its way on the road.

  * * *

  Arthur had been torn by guilt ever since persuading Lizzie to accept the damned invitation. How had he been so stupid to become indebted to Stalford? He could remember nothing of the evening prior to waking in Stalford’s quarters. He could find no witnesses to corroborate the “friendly” game the two had engaged in that resulted in his steep losses. All he had were the vowels Stalford produced which were written in Arthur’s hand.

  And whatever had possessed him to use opium? While he had tried it on a few occasions when he was a young man new to the excesses of town, Lynwood had quickly disabused him of any further association with the drug after taking him first to the most wretched of dens, then to Bedlam where addicts were housed. It had very effectively quelled Arthur’s desire to use the drug, which made it all the more perplexing that he would’ve ended up so doped.

  Lost in thought, Arthur let his horse wander the estate of his own accord. He noticed they were approaching a small lake. It was no wonder Merlin – Lizzie had named the horse, but Arthur was secretly quite satisfied with the choice – had found the cool water. The ride had been hot and dusty. The water would be a welcome distraction for them both.

  He dismounted, then led Merlin toward the lake. As he approached the water’s edge, he saw a most astonishing sight: some female’s shapely legs exposed from bare feet to perfect knees.

  Arthur was fanciful enough to wonder if the woman in front of him was even of this earth, rather than a vision sent from above. Or, more interestingly, from below. She wasn’t wearing a dress, although her chemise, corset and petticoats covered her just as much as if she had been, except for the beautiful expanse of legs. It was a shame she hadn’t hiked her petticoats higher, or, better yet, taken them off all together. But a quick look around showed the only garments on the shore to be her dress, stockings and half boots.

  She was turned away from him, bent over, as if looking for something in the water. In that position Arthur had a perfect view of a rounded bottom, padded enough for him to grab onto, but not out of proportion with her slim build.

  Bent over like that, it was impossible to see how tall she was, although Arthur suspected her head would be a few inches beneath his shoulder. But at the moment, he didn’t want her to stand up. He imagined her bent over even more, enabling him to come up from behind, grab on to that delectable arse and fill her to the brim with his suddenly hard cock.

  As if sensing his master’s discomfort and wanting to call attention to it, Merlin chose that moment to whinny.

  The lady in the lake stood straight up. He expected her to be frightened and cursed himself for not alerting her to his presence. The last thing he wanted was a female beset by the vapors in six inches of water. He had no desire to ruin his best pair of boots by having to carry her out. Would it be too ungentlemanly to remove them first if called to her rescue?

  It was only an academic question, because as she turned to face him, she wasn’t frightened, although she was surprised. She was beautiful, with dark red hair barely confined to the braid that was twisted into a knot. Wisps of hair escaped, giving her a tousled look that did nothing to rid Arthur of the erection which was becoming all the more painful.

  She had eyes of the deepest sapphire. And right now they were narrowed in an emotion that most assured
ly wasn’t fear.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she accused, with hands on hips as she barely held on to her petticoats. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she also stamped a foot, making an ineffectual splash.

  “Watering my horse. My sincerest apologies. I didn’t know this part of the lake was occupied,” said Arthur, fascinated by her reaction to him. Most ladies would’ve been humiliated to have been caught in undergarments, but not this chit. Her accent was that of a lady, although it had a lilt to it that marked it as from another part of the country. Yet, she showed no modesty, which made her all the more intriguing.

  “If you can manage to avert your eyes from my….” she stammered for a moment, gesturing in the direction of her impossibly pert breasts.

  “I understand your meaning. If I can avert my eyes from that delightful general vicinity…go on.”

  For a moment, it looked like she’d quite forgotten what she was going to say, as she studied him from head to toe. Arthur enjoyed the perusal, and liked the way it flustered her even more.

  “You were saying, ma’am?”

  She quickly recovered. “Keep your eyes on that sorry excuse for a horse while I get out of the water and set myself to rights.”

  “While I will most reluctantly look away from the area you could not name and I could not help but notice,” he said as he turned to his horse, “I must take umbrage at the insult you’ve hurled at Merlin. He is a most excellent steed.”

  “I assure you I am as good of a judge of horse flesh as…”

  The rest of her sentence was lost as Arthur heard a short scream followed by a big splash. He turned to see his red-headed virago sitting in water up to her neck, struggling to stand in petticoats soaked with water. It was obviously a task she could not do on her own, though she certainly flailed about an impressive amount.

  Without hesitating, Arthur waded into the lake, ruining his favorite pair of boots. He lifted her out of the water.

  “What are you doing?” she sputtered.

  “Earning my valet’s wrath.” He carried her out of the lake, onto the bank and considerably past the point where he should have put her down.

  “Unhand me, sir!” she said, as she struggled in his arms.

  “As you wish,” he answered, putting her down to stand on slightly unsteady feet. He’d been right. The top of her head was below his shoulders. And she was just as nicely curved as he’d imagined. The latter was made particularly clear by her wet clinging garments. A true gentleman would look away. Arthur couldn’t do it if his life depended on it.

  “Your interference was quite unnecessary you know,” said the flame-haired beauty with hands once again on hips.

  “It was either pick you up myself or send Merlin to do the job. And since his feelings were hurt by your comments, I couldn’t very well ask him.” Arthur had never seen such luscious curves. He had a mind to dunk himself in the lake to cool off.

  “Sir!” she said, as she finally became aware of just where his eyes had been fixed. “Decency demands that you turn away.”

  “If you held decency in high regard,” said Arthur as he reluctantly turned away, “I doubt you would’ve gone bathing without your clothes, although I can only be grateful that your dedication to propriety has been a rather latent impulse.”

  He heard the squishing of her petticoats as she moved in the direction of her gown. His mind immediately filled in all the details of her dressing, although he had a suspicion his imagination was no match for the real thing.

  And he had a vivid imagination.

  “You’ll need to remove those petticoats,” he said, while picturing her doing that very thing.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said, highly affronted.

  “They’ll soak your dress and you’ll have a difficult time explaining how you came to be soaking wet without revealing you’d gone bathing.”

  “I wasn’t bathing,” she said, from the midst of her squishing petticoats.

  “Then what were you doing?”

  His inquiry was met with silence, then muttering that sounded suspiciously like an oath.

  “Did you just use a very unladylike word?” he asked.

  “You’re hardly one to challenge another’s behavior after sneaking up on me like that. If you hadn’t discomposed me, I wouldn’t have fallen and would not now be faced with the most vexing problem of how to avoid soaking my dress.”

  “If I might make a suggestion?”

  “If I might completely ignore it.”

  “Take off your wet undergarments, then put the dress on. If you like, I can assist with both parts, although I’ve found the former considerably more fun than the latter.”

  “Yes, I have no doubt you have experience helping any number of ladies undress,” she said in quelling tones. “But you shall come no closer to me than you are right now. And if you turn around, I’ll scream.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, ma’am. If it would put your mind at ease, I’ll even have Merlin look away.”

  “That is the most preposterous…”

  Her tirade was broken by a whistle from Arthur, which got Merlin’s attention. A simple flick of the master’s hand was enough to send the horse’s gaze out to the lake.

  Arthur could have sworn he heard the lady smother a giggle.

  After some rustling noises that set Arthur’s imagination alight, as well as hardened his cock even further, she told him she was decent and that he could turn around.

  Her dress was surprisingly modest, with a high neckline and long sleeves, despite the warmth of the day. It was a drab mustard color that did nothing to set off her skin or her hair. She should be wearing a light blue to complement her eyes and the bodice should be cut low enough to show the bosom he’d felt pressed against his chest as he’d carried her out of the lake. He was still in a raging state of arousal because, judging from the wet undergarments on the ground, she’d obviously taken his advice about stripping down to nothing. Now, if only she’d take the hideous gown off, as well.

  She began picking up her garments, holding them at arm’s length to keep from getting wet. “Oh, dear,” she said, as it became apparent she’d be forced to hold her undergarments out for all to see.

  “Oh dear, indeed,” said Arthur, tsking. “Where is your destination?”

  “That hardly seems to be any business of yours, sir.”

  “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  “I would not wager on it.”

  Arthur’s countenance closed just a bit. “A wise decision, since gaming can most adversely affect a person’s life. Do you live around here?” She looked at him with such suspicion, he felt compelled to add, “Don’t worry. I’m not the excise man.”

  “I am a guest at a house party. Beyond that, you do not need to know.”

  “Then I suggest you hide your garments here and return for them when they are dry, enabling you to carry them without giving yourself a soaking or displaying them for all to see.”

  She looked at him. “A surprisingly sound suggestion from a rake.”

  “Today is my day to be surprising and sound.”

  “And a rake,” she added waspishly.

  “I’m always a rake.”

  After she hid her petticoats behind a nearby bush, she grudgingly dipped a brief curtsy. “Thank you, sir, for your assistance. A pleasant journey to you.” She then turned and walked away.

  Arthur grinned at the back of the woman who’d helped him forget his predicament for even the briefest of moments. Then he picked up her discarded undergarments, loaded them into his saddlebags and mounted Merlin.

  * * *

  As a rule, Riverton enjoyed meeting with his tenant farmers. They were good, hard working men and women with respect for the land. They raised their families with solid values and an appreciation of community and friends. But at the moment, stuck on one of his lesser properties near the Cornish coast, he could wish the lot of them to the devil. He’d received an urgent summons that his personal
intervention was needed to settle a dispute. But as he stood in the common area used by his farmers as a meeting place, he could only wonder what had been so important that required his presence.

  Since arriving, he’d congratulated three families on four new babies, heard gossip about the Taylor boy who was stepping out with the Whitsett girl which everyone expected to end in marriage and been offered brandy that rivaled even Lynwood’s stock. The only recent disagreement had been one involving an amorous sheepdog and an offended goat. But from what he’d heard in colorful detail, that contretemps had been resolved with a well-placed kick from the goat.

  However, since he’d made the trip all the way to Cornwall, he felt obliged to meet with his tenants and ensure they had everything they needed. His stewards and staff were quite capable, but he believed he had an obligation to personally check in with his people at least once a year.

  As he walked the windswept coast, he thought about bringing Lizzie there. He had a private cove on his property which had always been a favorite spot for swimming. He imagined stripping bare with Lizzie then diving into the waves where they’d make love. That was the direction most of his thoughts ran these days. Different places to make love to Lizzie. His mind had become quite adept at thinking of new places and interesting ways. He looked forward to the day he could finally put his plans in motion.

  “So ye see, milord, that keeping the sheepdog away from the goat was the only thin’ to do,” said Owen Lintle, whose family had worked the land longer than Riverton’s family had owned it. “The goat wouldna stay penned and t’weren’t the fault of the goat no how. Why punish the goat when it was the dog that had no manners?”

  After a moment when Riverton’s mind had been far removed, he realized some sort of acknowledgement was in order. He nodded with a very proper “Right you are.”

  Lintle continued even though Riverton felt he’d already heard every pertinent detail in the sheepdog/goat courtship. “Put the goat off her milk, it did. Can’t imagine the sheepdog was feeling all to rights, neither. Once got kicked by a goat meself in the ribs. Couldna move without groaning for a week.”