by Gayle Callen
But when they entered the drawing room, although Mr. Reyburn was there with Simon, so were two other gentlemen. They all rose when the women entered, and it was like being ringed by a tower of trees. Georgie almost skidded to a stop, and as Louisa came up beside her, Louisa gave her an encouraging look. Simon, who was still seated on the sofa, cocked his head.
Georgie cleared her throat. “Good afternoon, Simon. I’m sorry we interrupted. It is Miss Shelby and I.”
As Simon rose to his feet, the other three men bowed almost in unison. Louisa, who was used to the attention, curtsied back, but it took Georgie a moment to do the same. The girl was flushed, but it made her prettier.
There was a different air in the drawing room, of horses and the outdoors. Not many things could compare with a man’s admiring gaze. And there were three of them to admire Georgie.
“Ladies,” Simon said. “Do join us.”
Two gentlemen slid more chairs near the sofa, and Georgie and Louisa sat down.
“Some of you might have met my sister, Miss Wade,” Simon said. “Her friend is Miss Shelby.”
Louisa blushed at the interested glances cast her way, but she was determined to let Georgie do all the talking. If she could have pushed her chair back into a corner, she would have.
Simon introduced Mr. Tilden, a redhead who blushed when his name was spoken, and Lord Keane, an elegant man who leisurely looked Georgie up and down since her brother could not see him.
Lord Keane said, “I haven’t had the good fortune to meet you, Miss Wade. It is lucky we rode out from London to cheer up your brother.”
Georgie mumbled a reply, and Louisa withheld a wince. She saw Mr. Reyburn do it for her. She wanted to speak up, to guide Georgie into a conversation that the girl could be a part of, but unlike the discussion with the soldiers, this time Louisa had to remain in the background and let her student try alone.
“I told them I don’t need cheering up,” Simon said. “But they refused to believe me.”
“Now, Simon,” Mr. Reyburn said, “when Tilden and Keane came by to recruit me this morning, I thought it might be an interesting afternoon. You have to admit that you’ve enjoyed hearing what our London friends are up to.”
Lord Keane was still watching Georgie with narrowed eyes. He suddenly brightened. “I know where I’ve seen you before. We all had a good laugh when you caused Wallingford’s whelp to plant his face before the ton. Brilliant.”
Louisa held her breath, Simon angrily opened his mouth, but Georgie took a deep breath and beat him to it.
“Yes, Lord Keane, I did it quite deliberately,” she said conspiratorially, batting her eyelashes at him. “How else to make a splash in my debut?”
The tentative thread of sarcasm made the others smile and Lord Keane look uncomfortable—and angry about it. Louisa was wondering how Georgie would forestall another sly comment.
“But Lord Keane,” Georgie continued innocently, “were you there when I spilled my drink on Lady May?” She shook her head and sighed. “It caused a scandal I haven’t recovered from yet.”
Except for Lord Keane and Simon, the other two men rushed to assure her it was just an accident, that it had all been forgotten. Louisa wished she could share a satisfied glance with Simon. She was happy to see that he’d relaxed, that he hadn’t immediately rushed to defend his sister.
“Well, Wade,” Lord Keane boomed, as if he had to dominate any gathering, “your sister seems to be blossoming, along with so many other ladies.”
He glanced at Louisa, then gave her a grin he must have thought charming, but she only thought of as sly.
“It’s a shame you have to watch from the sidelines, Wade.” Lord Keane paused. “Forgive me—you can’t exactly watch.”
Simon smiled benignly. “No, but I have ways of knowing what’s going on.”
Lord Keane grinned, while the other men glanced at each other uneasily.
Louisa fumed in silence. How dare the man make insinuations in Simon’s own house! And right to his face, as if he couldn’t do anything about it.
Mr. Reyburn awkwardly distracted the men with the topic of a coming horse race. Georgie gave Louisa a worried glance. As a maid entered the room, pushing a cart loaded with tea and sandwiches, Louisa surreptitiously motioned Georgie toward it. The two women met, turned their backs to the men, and after the maid had been dismissed, began randomly moving the sandwiches from plate to plate.
Bending her head to Georgie, Louisa whispered, “I cannot stand how Lord Keane is treating your brother, as if his blindness makes him unattractive to women.”
“But what can we do?” Georgie whispered back.
“I’m the only available woman here, but if I fawn all over Lord Wade, it will seem like I’m a servant currying favor.”
“What if you simply talk to him,” Georgie said with excitement, “showing interest in a favorite subject of his? You will seem interested in his mind, which of course is as sound as ever.”
“I’m not sure Lord Keane would care about that, but it’s all we have. So what is a favorite subject of his?”
They looked at each other in a panic, and Louisa’s mind went blank.
“Rowing?” Georgie squeaked.
“That’s a sport!”
“But…he’s designing modifications on his boat.”
“Really?” Louisa said, so intrigued she almost forgot to whisper. “What are they?”
“I don’t really know,” Georgie said. “Something about an oarlock and how the oar fits into it.”
“Ladies,” called Simon, “do you need help with the tea?”
Louisa gave Georgie a determined smile. “Wish me luck.”
They turned and began to ask the gentlemen how they preferred their tea. When all had been served, Louisa sat back down across from Simon.
Taking a deep breath, she said into the silence, “Lord Wade, of course your friends know about your rowing, but I understand from your sister that you’re working on a new design for an oarlock.”
He lifted his head as if looking at her. She could read nothing in his eyes, of course, but she knew him well enough to sense his skepticism. Then his mouth turned up in a half smile, as if he suddenly knew what she was doing.
“Rowing?” Lord Keane said.
Mr. Tilden cleared his throat and blushed. “You row, Lord Wade?”
“Oh, he does,” Louisa said. “I am amazed by the speed at which he flies across the lake.” Trying to look serious and contemplative, she added, “This oarlock design sounds—”
“You should think of competing,” Mr. Tilden said. “At my club, we—”
“Thank you for the suggestion, Tilden,” Simon said, “but I’m afraid I would lose terribly, because the weight of my navigator would slow me down.”
“And without a navigator, you’d end up in the reeds,” Lord Keane said.
Louisa and Georgie exchanged wide-eyed looks. This wasn’t the direction they’d meant the conversation to take.
Chapter 12
Simon listened to Georgie try to steer the conversation to someone’s upcoming ball. He was proud of how she had made light of her own mistakes, how she seemed to be holding her own in a room full of men.
Until she’d begun to conspire with Louisa Shelby to defend him against Keane’s barbs. He knew damn well what they were doing. He would make sure they understood how unnecessary it was.
“Wade,” Keane said, “I can’t help but admire that you try to row in your condition.”
Back to this topic, Simon thought in frustration. What had Louisa been thinking? “I like being out in the fresh air,” he said mildly.
“Although of course you can’t race with Tilden’s club,” Keane continued. “What do you say to a little rowing wager right now?”
Simon didn’t need to see, not when he could hear the low mumbling of angry voices. This wasn’t worth starting a fight over.
“Keane, leave off it,” Paul said stiffly.
He could hear skirts r
ustling loudly, as if Louisa and Georgie were about to burst to their feet in outrage.
Simon tilted his head. “What do you have in mind?”
The reaction was silence, except for Keane’s chuckle. “I’ll challenge you to a race across your little lake.”
“Across and back?” Simon said softly.
He heard Louisa’s indrawn breath.
“Agreed,” Keane responded.
“But Lord Wade needs a navigator,” Tilden interrupted hesitantly.
“Then I’ll have one, as well. We’ll wager nothing too extravagant—fifty quid?”
Simon nodded. “Done.”
As everyone started to rise, Keane spoke again. “Let’s make it even more interesting. The ladies can navigate.”
Georgie’s was the first voice he could understand above the excited chatter. “But I don’t know how.”
“Then you’ll ride with me,” Keane said smoothly. “I don’t need much help. Wade, you may have the lovely Miss Shelby.”
Simon felt her arm slide through his as she whispered, “I think he meant something sordid by that.”
“Hmm.”
She paused. “May I escort you?”
“I enjoy being displayed on the arm of a beautiful woman.”
He felt her arm tighten in his, but all she did was laugh, that husky laugh that made him yearn to hear it in private.
She was patient and cautious as they walked, speaking softly of every obstacle in the way. He was the one who couldn’t concentrate, with her soft breast pressed into his upper arm. He stumbled once when they reached the terrace, and she hugged his arm even tighter. He could have groaned.
The voices in front of them faded away as they were outdistanced.
“So what are they all doing?” Simon asked.
“The big bully is already down by the lake, pulling off his coat.” She hesitated. “Do you think you can win?”
“I’ve spent months doing this several times a day. I don’t have any doubts.”
“Do you forgive me for instigating this? That Lord Keane is so infuriating.”
He grinned. “I forgive you.”
“He looks in fine physical condition,” she added.
“He fences. A little boxing, too.”
“Oh.”
“Do I hear doubts?”
“Well—”
“And what would it matter anyway?” Simon asked lightly, slowing as the gravel beneath his feet sloped away toward the lake. “So he defeats a blind man. Can you imagine the gossip headlines? ‘Keane Outrows Blind Viscount.’ If I can’t win, I’ll enjoy that.”
“But you’ll win.”
“Of course. Even better would be ‘Blind Viscount Routs Keane.’”
“Simon, how evil of you.” She playfully swatted his arm.
He gave her a smile. “Have the servants brought a second boat?” he asked.
“They just launched it and are tying it up to the pier. Manvil is there.”
“He’ll be upset that he isn’t with me. This is what he’s been waiting for.”
“Oh, dear. Should I withdraw?”
Simon laughed. “Trust me, he wouldn’t want that. Would you mind putting my coat somewhere?” He stripped it off and handed it to her, along with his cravat.
“Ah,” Keane said, “a serious opponent. I’ll enjoy that.”
“Then I hope you enjoy the spray from my boat hitting you in the back of your head.”
As everyone hooted with laughter, Simon was surprised at how much he was relishing this challenge. He would have to thank Louisa for instigating it, and even pompous Keane for suggesting it.
“Georgie?” Simon called.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Now you help Keane. He’s going to need it.”
He felt a hand on his arm and a soft kiss on his cheek. “Good luck, Simon,” Georgie said.
“He’ll be the one who needs it,” Keane said, his voice not quite so jovial.
Louisa led Simon down to the pier. “How should I help you in?”
Manvil spoke at his side. “I’m here, my lord. I’ll hold the boat for you both to get in.”
When he and Louisa were seated, he said, “Manvil, bring both of the boats to the end of the pier, you hold onto one, and have Robert the gardener hold the other. I assume all the outdoor servants are gathered?”
“Of course, my lord. There are wagers to be had.”
Simon grinned. “The two of you will let go when you give the signal to start. Don’t worry, Keane,” he called. “Unlike me, you’ll be able to see if anyone is tempted to cheat. But then Georgie will be watching you.”
“I do not cheat,” Keane said darkly.
Louisa sat in the stern of the boat and clutched both sides, not because she was worried. She was so thrilled to be a part of this race that she could barely control herself. She wanted to raise her fists in the air defiantly at that scoundrel, Lord Keane. The day was sunny with an endless blue sky. The grassy bank where the gathering spectators stood was so green as to make a desert weep. Everything was perfect.
And there was Lord Keane in the other boat; he was lean but powerful, his expression a grimace of concentration. Though Georgie was seated in the stern facing him, Louisa sensed he didn’t really see her. Georgie gave Louisa a smile, but Louisa knew her well enough by now to see her nerves. She was holding her own with the men, so she should be enjoying the day.
Georgie held an umbrella over her head, and Louisa reluctantly opened the one a maid had handed her. It wouldn’t do for every freckle on her face to pop out.
Robert the gardener helped Manvil guide both boats to the end of the pier. The boat rocked gently beneath her, and she was wondering how much it would really rock once Simon was rowing. She’d seen how hard he worked, how fast the boat went. She prayed that she was not the type to get seasick.
“The course is such, gentlemen,” Manvil said. “Row straight across the lake from this pier. Begin turning back after your bow passes the large boulder off the far shore. Remember to turn to the outside. Ladies, do make sure they don’t hit anything, including each other. The first one whose bow passes the end of this pier wins. You should have sufficient time to slow before you scrape bottom near the shore. I will count to three, and then call ‘start.’ Are we ready?”
Simon gripped the oars, his head bent in obvious concentration. She could see the tense line of muscles in his arms, the taut skin over his knuckles.
“What should I do, Simon?” she asked.
“Just tell me if I veer off this straight line. And watch your fingers.”
Puzzled, she clasped her hands together. To her shock, he spread his legs and braced them on her seat on either side of her. Her skirt was caught on one side, but she said nothing. She just watched his tense expression in fascination. Who would have guessed that such a casual, easygoing man would be so competitive?
As Manvil started his slow count, Simon leaned toward her, his oars behind him in the water. At “Start!” he pulled straight back, the oars moving powerfully. The boat surged forward, and Louisa swayed backward. She gripped the seat between his boot and her hips.
He didn’t need much correction from her, whereas within twenty yards, she heard Georgie shout, “To the left. I mean my left!”
Keane was glancing constantly over his shoulder to the far side of the lake, obviously not trusting Georgie. Simon did not have that distraction. He was totally focused on moving the oars as swiftly and evenly as possible. His arms moved like a machine, and they began to pull ahead of Lord Keane.
“He’s falling behind, Simon,” Louisa called. “Veer a little to your right.”
As he corrected his course, he gave her a grimace that was part smile. Sweat broke out on his forehead. As they neared the far side, his shirt began to stick to his body. To her surprise it was a sheer garment, and the wetter it became, the more she could see. Whenever he leaned back, she could see the dark shadow of his nipples. And always, there was the spread
of his legs right before her, and the interesting way his trousers fit him.
She wished she’d brought a fan to flutter in her hot face.
“We’re approaching the boulder!” she called. “It’s between the two boats, but we don’t look like we’re going to hit it.”
“How far back…is he?” Simon asked between grunts.
“Maybe five yards?”
“Not…enough.”
“Our bow has passed the boulder!”
She found herself falling to the side as Simon abruptly began to row each oar in opposite directions, turning in a tight circle.
“Stop turning!” she cried, impressed, as he reversed the rowing to steady the boat. “You can go straight.”
For two full strokes of the oars, they were moving in the opposite direction from Keane. Louisa saw his shocked expression, then watched with satisfaction as he began to turn. Apparently he wasn’t used to rowing, because he only used one oar, and they turned in a wide circle. But she saw the surge in his shoulders when he began to chase them once more.
Louisa looked over her shoulder. “He’s done turning.” Facing the pier again, she said, “Veer a little to your right!”
“How far…is he behind?”
“Maybe twenty yards?”
“I want…more.”
She didn’t think that he could go any faster, but he did. The wind tossed her hair back, and several curls finally escaped their pins. She laughed with the sheer exuberance of feeling like she was flying.
“Oh, Simon, this is wonderful!”
But his face was grimacing with the strain, his muscles heaving and bunching, and still he continued to row at this punishing pace. Louisa turned back to see that Lord Keane had fallen even farther behind.
As they reached the pier, Manvil shouted, “The winner!”
Simon immediately rowed in the opposite direction and she fell forward, catching herself with a hand on his thigh. She pulled back quickly, but not before she got the impression of damp wool and hot, hard muscle. Simon rowed slower and slower, then finally pulled in his oars. She didn’t know where to look as he took in great gulps of air, his chest heaving, his body slumped tiredly as he propped his arms on his thighs. The boat bumped gently on the bottom, with barely a scraping sound.
