by Lavinia Kent
“And you are an expert at avoiding anything scandalous, are you not, Lord Colton?”
Again, he felt that Miss Pratcher was saying far more than her mere words conveyed. “I am always honorable.”
“I will ride ahead, then, but I will be back frequently to check—and if at any point you are not in plain sight…” She let her words trail off.
“I understand completely.”
Miss Pratcher nodded once and spurred her gelding.
“Do you think you are?” Angela asked.
“What?” He slowed his horse to come beside her.
“Honorable. Are you always honorable?”
“I try.”
“That is not the same.”
“It is the best any of us can do.”
“And was bringing Granderson honorable?”
Now, that was an easy answer. “Most definitely. I was only trying to get you to back down. I have already explained—and you sensed it anyway.” He knew he sounded exasperated.
“If you were trying to get me to stop, you should just have refused to play.”
“I believe I did and you didn’t. And we already had this conversation.”
“But, then, you had entered the game at the ball. I certainly did not believe you were disinterested after that.”
“And hence my dilemma. It seemed easier to convince you that you did not wish to play than to convince you that I did not.”
Her cheeks flushed becomingly, although perhaps that was the early-morning chill. “I would admit that I seldom change my mind once I have formed an opinion.”
He could do nothing but raise a brow in mocking agreement.
“The problem is,” she continued, “I am so often right.”
He held his expression.
“Well, I am. And I was not wrong in this instance. Well, actually in either instance.”
He had to suppress a smile as a memory of a similar conversation from months ago played through his mind. He could hear Angela insisting that steam locomotives were the way of the future. She’d gone on for what felt like hours, not giving him a chance to agree—which he did. And when he’d dared to mention canals, she’d glared at him, a spark of fire in her eyes. And then she’d laughed, full-bodied and deep from the belly. She’d never been afraid to laugh at herself and knew her own weaknesses well.
He nodded for her to continue, still not speaking, lost in his memory.
“I was correct that you did have feelings for me in the beginning. I am still not clear why you chose to end that relationship, and I am correct that you enjoyed what happened between us both at the ball and at Madame Rouge’s. It was rather unmistakable at Madame Rouge’s.”
He forced his attention back. He did suppose that was undeniable. He just didn’t understand why they needed to discuss it to death—but that was Angela, and he would indulge her, at least for another moment or two. “I must plead guilty to the latter, but I do not see why you are so sure of the former. I do not believe I have mentioned feelings.”
That made her smile. “I can only go by what my eyes and my heart tell me. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am not talking about love or other tender emotions. I merely think that you liked me then and you like me now. I believe it is why you have tried to protect me from myself rather than allow me to suffer the cost of my own foolishness. And I think—”
“You do like to talk,” he said with a grin, prodding his horse to a slightly faster pace. She would find it hard to talk while bouncing at a trot. He glanced back. And she did bounce, most delightfully. He wasn’t sure he’d ever quite appreciated the joy of a hard trot before. Even through the stiff wool of her jacket, movement was unmistakable. And his man’s mind instantly had her nude and astride—not a horse.
Chapter 11
Blast. She was going to lose a tooth. Or two. Or ten. Why was Colton moving at such a pace? He knew she did not like to ride. He was definitely punishing her, although for what she was not sure. She had only spoken the truth.
Understanding dawned.
He did not like the truth. He did not wish to deny it verbally, but he did not want to accept it either.
He did like her. He still liked her.
He might not want to like her, but he did; that was why he didn’t wish to answer her questions, didn’t wish to examine his feelings.
A warmth grew in her chest, even as other parts of her felt ready to fly off.
And then another thought came to her.
She pulled back on the reins, bringing the mare to a smooth walk. LadyBelle was more than pleased to slow and instantly relaxed beneath her. She smiled to herself. Ignoring the man ahead, she enjoyed the beauty of the day, concentrating on the way the early-morning sun formed dappled patterns through the multicolored leaves, admiring the brightly hued chrysanthemums. Guiding LadyBelle away from a display of dark-purple cabbages, in which the mare was showing a non-aesthetic interest, Angela allowed her to lower her head and munch at some slightly longer grass at the edge of the path.
Now, this was not so bad. She could almost say she enjoyed riding as long as the horse didn’t move.
“I am not sure that even qualifies as walking,” Colton said, his mount moving at a brisk walk as he returned.
Angela wondered how long he’d proceeded before realizing her mare was not at his heels. She tipped her face up to the sun and enjoyed the soft warmth.
“You’ll get freckles,” he cautioned.
“That has never been my problem,” she said, then added with a smile, “and I’ve a feeling you don’t mind a few freckles.”
“I would admit that I never notice them except in the most extreme cases.”
“Exactly.” She kept her face turned up.
“You stopped following,” he said.
“You are right. I did.”
He said nothing.
She returned the favor.
“Why?” For such a simple word, it sounded dragged from him.
“I wanted to.”
“I thought that what you wanted was to please me,” he said with a laugh.
“I only want to please you some of the time—and you know exactly when and where. I certainly have no intention of doing everything you say.”
“So why did you want to stop? Or was the ride simply too much?”
She was not going to comment on her riding abilities any further. “The purpose of the expedition was to talk, and I thought that might be hard to do if I left all my teeth along the path.”
He did not chuckle. “You want to plan our next encounter.”
“Yes.”
“And you are sure we will have one.”
Rolling her eyes was not out of the question. “You would not have invited me here if you did not wish to continue.”
“I invited you before I heard from Simms about Swanston.”
“Oh—and yet you did send the mare.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“I am not quite sure what else to say. I assume if he was going to expose me that he would have already—or at least, I hope so….Oh, I don’t mean I hope he’s talked; I mean—”
“I understand, and you can be assured he is not a man to talk.”
“Did you speak with him?”
“Yes, but not directly about you. However, I could tell from his expression that he will be discreet.”
“Good. I have been trying so very hard not to think about it. It did seem a shame to have it all end before it truly began and in such a fashion.”
He gave a long sigh. “It might be wiser if we did let it end.”
She did not feel like being wise. She had gone this far and refused to turn back. “We both know that what we are doing is not strictly wise, and we both know we are going to do it anyway. Why waste time discussing the matter? I would rather talk about—about fishing.”
His expression clouded and then cleared. “And do you like fishing?”
“You think I will say no, but in truth I rather adore the sp
ort. Or at least most of it. I do admit that I am enough of a lady not to be fond of the actual fish part. I have only once attempted to remove the fish from the line, when my brother dared me to, and it is not a good memory. Fishing with a companion is quite nice, however. As long as somebody else handles putting the fish in the basket—or back in the stream—I am quite fond of the recreation. And if forced to fish alone when I am on my father’s land, I can always not use bait. That does solve the problem of the actual fish.”
“Fishing without bait?” He looked quite nonplussed.
“Yes. The real joy of fishing is in the sitting and not being bothered. You don’t actually need to catch a fish for that. And I’ve never been quite certain that the fish that Cook serves when I’ve been out at the streams are the same ones I caught. They often seem to grow in size when they appear on my plate. I rather think the local cats get more benefit than anyone else from the fish I catch.”
Now, that brought a smile to his cheeks; she did like it when he smiled. She wished he would do it more often.
“And do you fish often?” he asked after a moment.
“I would like to, but we spend more of each year in Town, and my mother is not content for me to wander on my own when we are in the country. When I was younger I could disappear for hours and she never noticed. Now I believe that if I am on my own for more than twenty minutes she fears the cows are assaulting my virtue.”
“Clever cows—or that should be bulls.” Another smile.
“I wish I was as clever and could figure a way to be on my own without arousing such suspicion.”
“Yet you have managed to meet me alone on four occasions now.”
“I hardly think the first counts as our being alone. We were within a hundred feet of most of society—at least most of those who still remain in London.”
“That is true, and I believe that is much of what you enjoyed.” His smile turned to a smirk.
She was not going to discuss that. “Think what you will. And I was gone for barely over my allotted twenty minutes of freedom. Another five and I daresay my mother or one of my aunts or their friends would have happened to wander after me.”
“Wouldn’t that have been a delight.”
She ignored his comment. “As for the second occasion: It did take some cleverness to take to my bed early without arousing either suspicion or the need to be sure that I was feeling well.”
“And how did you accomplish that?”
“I stayed up most of the night before, wandering the halls and complaining loudly that I could not sleep. I did my best to keep the whole household awake. The following night, when I announced I was tired and went early to bed, I think all were so glad of the rest themselves that they did not question it. The hardest was keeping my mother from her afternoon nap. I dropped things with a loud clatter twice, and I am ashamed to say I tripped the maid who was carrying the silver back to the pantries. I am still feeling quite guilty over the tongue-lashing the poor girl took, but I will arrange some form of recompense. An extra afternoon off, or perhaps I’ll be sure that one of my old day dresses is sent her way.”
He was smiling again. “Quite enterprising, but hard to repeat too often.”
“I will manage. And I believe I already explained about the last time I met you at Ruby’s, but I admit that was luck. However, I am sure I can figure something out.” She would. She had no choice. “So what is our next plan?”
“I think an inn. Even though Swanston will be discreet, it would be unwise to risk our luck at Madame Rouge’s again soon. There is always the possibility that someone else may have seen you.”
“Am I any less likely to be recognized at an inn?”
“I will choose a quiet one, visited by few of our class—and then perhaps I can borrow a friend’s house for an afternoon or two.”
“Borrow a house.”
“Yes, I know a couple of gentlemen who are between mistresses and may have spare accommodation.”
“And they just let you borrow a house?” It was of great interest that he did not own such a house himself, one kept for a mistress or secret dalliance—assuming he spoke the truth.
“There is normally some form of subtle trade involved. An introduction to an opera singer. A badly placed wager when they are in need of funds. Perhaps I will not buy a finely matched pair at Tattersall’s when I know they are interested.”
“Oh yes, I do know how that works.” Her trades normally involved letting someone else choose her gown first at the modiste or deliberately wearing a less-becoming bonnet, but it was all the same.
“Then I will send you a note.”
“No, that will not work; my mother will insist on reading it.”
“Should we just arrange to meet one night next week? Then I can take you on to wherever we are headed.”
“Oh, I can’t meet next week. I am headed to a party at Lady Perse’s estate. I should probably have mentioned it earlier, but it is one more on the great list of things I choose not to think of. My mother is quite convinced that I will find a husband. There is not the slightest chance that she would let me miss it for anything less than death.”
“And here I remain convinced that you are hunting me as a husband.”
“I assure you that I am quite past that notion.” Well, she had decided that she truly did not wish him as an unwilling husband, which still did not mean she did not wish him to ask. It was still such a delight to imagine turning him down, to dream of the look upon his face.
“Well, then, perhaps knowing that I am safe with you, I should visit Lady Perse’s myself. I am quite sure if I call on her she will extend an invite, and then there are all sorts of possibilities. It may even be better than trying to meet in Town. The country is designed for forbidden escape.”
“I am not sure…”
“My estate is barely a mile from Lady Perse’s, and I know every turn of her lands quite well. I assure you that I can think of a dozen ways for us to be alone, and all of them will grant us more than twenty minutes. Perhaps I will take you fishing.”
It sounded too good to be true. Also too…too…too…She didn’t know exactly what she meant. It would be wonderful to have more places to sneak off to, but it all seemed so much more like part of her life and less like escape.
And that was perhaps the crux of the matter. Ever since she’d bared herself in the garden, none of this had felt quite real. It was separate from her mother chiding her to find a husband.
She had called it a game, and it was—and games did not meld well with real life.
Still, the thought of being alone with Colton certainly had her body tingling and her legs tightening.
—
The house rose high and grand as the carriage pulled up the long walk. Angela had known that it would be a great estate, but this was almost like a duke’s home—not that she’d ever actually visited a duke, but her mother had once in her girlhood. This was far more reminiscent of those stories than anything Angela had ever seen, except perhaps for the royal palaces in London, but, then, those were royal palaces and anyone could see them—at least from the street. Angela had only been inside one upon her presentation to the queen, and that had been several years ago.
It would be interesting to see how this tall granite structure compared. It was hard to imagine that any house that the formidable Lady Perse had the management of would not hold up to the highest of standards.
Angela glanced to the side. Her mother had her face plastered to the glass of the window, much as Angela did, a delighted smile playing upon her face. It reminded Angela of Colton’s smile and the joy she had found in it.
Could any moment be better than when a loved one smiled?
Not that she loved Colton. She definitely did not.
She might once have been infatuated with him and with her own dreams, but now that she was beginning to know the man better, she certainly didn’t love him.
Although she might be fond of him—and she was becoming mo
re than fond of specific parts of him.
“What on earth or you giggling at, Angela?” Her mother turned away from the window to glare at her. “Get yourself together. We will be greeting Lady Perse shortly, and you don’t want her to think you are still a schoolgirl.”
“I am quite sure she knows I am not still a schoolgirl, given how everyone talks as if my last days of youth are slipping rapidly away.”
“That is still no reason to act like a child.”
“Yes, Mother.” Angela pulled her face to placid calmness.
She looked out the window again. The façade of the house was quite compelling, the stone almost pink in the afternoon light and the carved reliefs over each of the high windows depicting medieval valor. The house could not be that old—the style spoke of far-more-recent years—but perhaps the reliefs had been moved from some earlier castle. Angela knew that often a grand house was built upon the remains of the last. And that was if they bothered to tear the last one down at all. She’d seen homes where one piece was simply added to the last, until the building became a warren of different styles and materials. Her own home suffered to some extent, Tudor pilings mixed with more-current brickwork.
Lady Perse’s house suffered from no such hodgepodge. Whoever designed it had clearly taken only the desired pieces of the past and banished all else. It was a fine house.
And that was a fine man.
Lord Colton stood at the top of the stairs next to Lady Perse, who had come out to greet them personally. Angela’s eyes were drawn to him and stayed. Tight buckskins covered his legs, more than hinting at his strong thighs. The dark blue of his coat contrasted with the starched white linen of his shirt, stretched tight across his broad chest.
He reached out and pointed at the carriage, saying something to Lady Perse, and Angela could almost feel the strong fingers stroking her flesh. She swallowed. It was all too easy to imagine just what he might do to her. She’d followed his advice while lying in bed at night, had given his face to her French lieutenant, had brought him out of the shadows, had…
“Stop squirming. I don’t know what is wrong with you today, my dear, but I trust you will behave once we are out of the carriage.”
