"Really," Lily said with surprise. "Not a pigeon. Coming from you, that's quite a compliment."
"Raiford plays wise—follows runs but never goes deep." Derek turned a smile on her. "Even you wouldn't be able to rook 'im."
Lily ignored the taunt. "Is he as wealthy as the rumors claim?"
That produced an emphatic nod. "More."
"Any family scandals? Secrets, trouble, past affairs, any misdeeds that would reflect badly on his character? Does he seem like
a cold, cruel sort of fellow?"
Derek folded his long, well-tended hands over the balustrade, looking down at his small kingdom. " 'E's quiet. Private. Especially since the woman 'e loved was knocked off a year or two ago."
"Knocked off?" Lily interrupted, both amused and appalled. "Must you be so vulgar?"
Derek ignored the reprimand. "Miss Caroline Whitmore, Whitfield, somefing o' the sort. Broke 'er neck on an 'unt, so they say. Damn little fool, I say."
"Hunt," Lily said, irritated by his meaningful glance. She loved to ride to the hounds, but even Derek didn't approve of such a dangerous activity for a woman. "And I'm not like other women. I can ride as well as any man. Better than most."
" Tis your neck," he replied casually.
"Precisely. Now, that can't be all you know about Wolverton. I know you. You're keeping something from me."
"No." Lily was caught by Derek's steady gaze, transfixed by the cool depths of green. His eyes contained a spark of humor,
but also a warning. Once again she was reminded that despite their friendship, Derek would not be there to help her if she
landed herself in trouble. His voice was shaded with a quiet force that was as troubling as it was rare. "Listen to me, gypsy.
Let it be—the marriage, ewerything. Raiford's not a cruel sort, but 'e's no rum cull. Stay clear ow 'im. You 'as problems enow
to 'andle." His lips twisted wryly, and he corrected himself. "Handle."
Lily considered his advice. Derek was right, of course. She should be preserving her strength, thinking of nothing but getting Nicole back. But for some reason, this question of Wolverton's character had taken root inside her, nagging until she would
not have peace without seeing him. She thought of how docile Penny had always been, never misbehaving or questioning
their parents' decisions. God knew Penny had no one to help her. The image of Zachary's pleading face came before her.
She owed this to him. Lily sighed. "I must meet Wolverton and see for myself," she said stubbornly.
"Then go to the Middleton hunt this week," Derek said, taking special care with his vowels and consonants. Suddenly he
almost sounded like a gentleman. "Most likely he'll be there."
* * *
Assembling at the stables with the others, Alex waited while a small army of grooms brought the horses out to their masters. There was excitement in the air, for all participants knew it would be an exceptional day. It was cool and dry, the course would
be challenging, and the Middleton pack was renowned for its quality, reputedly worth more than three thousand guineas.
Alex glanced at the brightening sky, his mouth twisting with impatience. The hunt had been scheduled for six o'clock. They
would be late getting started. More than half the hunting party hadn't mounted their horses yet. He considered walking over to someone and striking up a conversation. Most of the men here were familiar to him, some of them old classmates. But he
wasn't in a sociable mood. He wanted to ride, lose himself in the chase until he was too tired to think or feel.
He looked across the field at the cool mist that hung over the yellow grasses and edged the dark, gray-green woods. The
nearby covert was thick with spiny, gold-flowered gorse. All at once a flash of memory assailed him . . .
"Carr, you're not going on the hunt."
His fiancee, Caroline Whitmore, laughed and pouted playfully. She was a lovely girl, with peach-colored skin and bright hazel eyes, and hair the dark amber of clover honey. "Darling, you wouldn't deprive me of such
fun, would you? There's no chance of danger. I'm a superb rider, a clipping one, as you British would say."
"You don't know what it's like, riding to a leap in company. There are collisions, refusals, or you could be
thrown or ridden down—"
"I'll ride with the utmost discretion. What do you suppose, that I'll ride neck-or-nothing across every hurdle?
I'll have you know, dearest, that common sense is one of my strongest virtues. Besides, you know it's impossible to change my mind once I'm set on something." Caroline sighed melodramatically. "Why must you be so difficult?"
"Because I love you."
"Then don't love me. At least not tomorrow morning ..."
Alex shook his head roughly, trying to clear away the haunting memories. God, would it always be like this? It had been two
years since her death, and still he was tormented by it.
The past engulfed Alex in an invisible shroud. He had tried to move beyond it, but after a few futile attempts, he had realized he would never be free of Caroline. Of course there were others like her, women of spirit, passion, and beauty, but he did not want that kind of woman anymore. Caroline had told him once that she thought no one would ever be able to love him quite enough.
There had been too many years in which he had been bereft of a woman's nurturing care.
His mother had died in childbirth when Alex was a boy. Her death was followed a year later by the passing of the earl. It was
said that he had willed himself to death, leaving behind his two sons and a mountain of responsibilities. Since the age of eighteen Alex had been occupied with managing business interests, tenants and land agents, household staff and family. He had property
in Herefordshire, set among fertile wheat and corn fields and rivers filled with salmon, and a Buckinghamshire estate poised on
a tract of harshly beautiful land that included steep Chiltern chalk hills.
Alex had devoted himself to caring for and educating his younger brother, Henry. His own needs had been neglected, put aside
to be taken care of at some future date. When he had found a woman to love, the feelings he had pent up for so long were overwhelming. Losing Caroline had nearly killed him. He would never subject himself to such pain again.
That was why he had deliberately sought Penelope Lawson's hand. A demure blonde girl, quintessentially English, she had attracted him with her gentle manner at many of the society balls in London. Penelope was what he needed. It was time to
marry and produce heirs. Penelope couldn't be more different than Caroline. She would share his bed, bear his children, grow
old beside him, all in safety and peace, never becoming a part of him. Alex found ease in Penelope's undemanding presence. There was no spark or vivacity in her pretty brown eyes, no sharp wit in her comments, nothing that threatened to touch his
heart in any way. She would never think to argue with him or contradict him. The distant friendliness between them was something she did not seem to want to bridge any more than he did.
Suddenly Alex's thoughts were interrupted by a remarkable sight. A woman was riding past the edge of the crowd, a young woman mounted on a high-strung white palfrey. Alex dropped his gaze instantly, but the vision blazed across his mind. A
frown knotted itself between his brows.
Exotic, hoydenish, startling, she had appeared from nowhere. She was as slim as a boy, except for the gentle rise of her breasts. Her short, curly black hair was held back from her forehead with a ribbon. Incredulously Alex saw that she straddled the horse the way a man did, that she was wearing breeches underneath her riding gown. Breeches the color of raspberries, for God's sake. Yet no one seemed to find her as astonishing as he did. Most of the men seemed to be acquainted with her, exchanging laughing comments with her, everyone from the fresh-faced Lord Yarborough to crotchety o
ld Lord Harrington. Alex watched expressionlessly as the woman in raspberry breeches rode around the clearing where the bagged fox was to be loosed. There
was something strangely familiar about her.
* * *
Lily suppressed a satisfied smile as she saw that Woiverton had fastened an unblinking gaze on her. He had definitely noticed
her. "My lord," she said to Chester Harrington, a robust older gentleman who had been an admirer of hers for years, "who is
that man staring at me so rudely?"
"Why, it's the earl of Woiverton," Harrington replied. "Lord Raiford. I would have assumed you had made acquaintance with
him before, considering that he is soon to wed your delightful sister."
Lily shook her head with a smile. "No, his lordship and I move in quite different circles. Tell me, is he as boorish as he appears?"
Harrington gave a hearty laugh. "Would you like me to introduce you, so that you may judge for yourself?"
"Thank you, but I believe I will present myself to Raiford unaccompanied." Before he could reply, Lily walked her horse toward Wolverton. As she drew closer to him, she was conscious of an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. She caught a glimpse
of his face and suddenly realized who he was. "My God," she breathed, stopping her horse beside him. "It's you."
His gaze was as piercing as a rapier. "The water party," he murmured. "You were the one who jumped overboard."
"And you were the one with the disapproving stare." Lily grinned at him. "I was an idiot that day," she admitted ruefully.
"But I was slightly foxed. Although I suppose you wouldn't consider that an acceptable excuse."
"What do you want?" His voice caused every fine hair on her spine to rise in awareness. Low, gravelly, it sounded as if he
were growling.
"What do I want?" she repeated, laughing softly. "How direct you are. But I like that in a man."
"You wouldn't have approached me unless you wanted something."
"You're right. Do you know who I am, my lord?"
"No."
"Miss Lily Lawson. Your fiancee's sister."
Concealing his surprise, Alex studied her closely. It didn't seem possible that this creature was related to Penelope. One sister
so fair and angelic, the other dark and smoldering . . . and yet, there was a resemblance. They had the same brown eyes, the same fine features, the same unique sweetness in the curve of the lips. He tried to recall what little the Lawsons had revealed about their eldest daughter. They had preferred not to speak of her, except to say that Lily—or Wilhemina, as her mother called her—had gone "a little mad" after having been jilted at the altar when she was twenty years old. She'd gone to live abroad after that. Under the lax chaperonage of her widowed aunt, Lily had led a wild existence. Alex had been only mildly interested in the story—now he wished he had listened more closely.
"Has my family ever mentioned me to you?" she asked.
"They described you as an eccentric."
"I wondered if they still bother to acknowledge my existence." She leaned down and said conspiratorially, "I have a tarnished reputation—it's taken years of dedicated effort to acquire. The Lawsons don't approve of me. Well, fate chooses our
relatives, as they say. Too late to prune me from the family tree." Lily paused in her friendly chatter as she stared down into
his closed face. Heaven knew what was going on behind those silver eyes. It was clear that he was not going to indulge her
with small talk and smiles, reverting to the game that sociable strangers played.
She wondered if bluntness were the best way to deal with him. "Wolverton," she said briskly, "I want to talk to you about
my sister."
He was silent, watching her with icy gray eyes.
"I know more than anyone about my parents' ambitions of making an exceptional match for Penny," Lily remarked. "She is a lovely and accomplished girl, isn't she? And it would be a brilliant marriage. Miss Penelope Lawson, the countess of Wolverton. No one in my family has ever ascended to such a title. But I wonder . . . would it be in her best interests to become your wife? That is, do you care for my sister, Lord Raiford?"
His face was impassive. "As much as necessary."
"That hardly sets my mind at ease."
"What is your concern, Miss Lawson?" he asked sardonically. "That I'll mistreat your sister? That she's had no choice in the matter? I assure you, Penelope is quite content with the state of affairs." His eyes narrowed, and he continued softly. "And
if you're about to delight everyone with one of your theatrical displays, Miss Lawson, I warn you ... I don't like scenes."
Lily was taken aback by the veiled menace in his tone. Oh, she didn't like him at all! At first she had considered him vaguely amusing, a large, slightly pompous aristocrat with ice water in his veins. But something warned her that his nature was not
only cold, but cruel. "I don't believe your claim that Penny is content," she replied. "I know my sister, and I have no doubt my parents have bullied and prodded her every step of the way to get what they want. You must terrify Penny. Does her happiness matter to you at all? She deserves a man who truly loves her. My instincts tell me that all you want is an obedient, fertile girl
who will produce a string of little blond heirs to carry on your name, and if that's the case you could easily find a hundred other girls to—"
"Enough," he interrupted harshly. "Go interfere in someone else's life, Miss Lawson. I'll see you in hell—no, I'll send you there—before I let you meddle with mine."
Lily gave him an ominous look. "I've found out what I wanted to know," she said, preparing to leave. "Good day, my lord.
You've been most enlightening."
"Wait." Before Alex was aware of what he was doing, he reached out and caught one of her reins.
"Let go!" Lily said in surprised annoyance. His actions were outrageous. To take hold of any rider's reins without invitation, removing control of the horse—it was a demeaning act.
"You're not going to hunt," he said.
"You don't think I came out here to wish you well, do you? Yes, I'm going to hunt. Have no fear, I shan't slow anyone down."
"Women shouldn't hunt."
"Of course they should, if they wish to."
"Only if they happen to be wives or daughters of masters of hounds. Otherwise—"
"A mere accident of birth won't prevent me from hunting. I am a bruising rider, and I insist that no allowance be made for me.
I'll top any fence, no matter how high. I suppose you would like me to stay inside with the other women, tatting and gossiping."
"There you won't pose a danger to anyone. Out here you'll be a hazard to others as well as yourself."
"I'm afraid your opinion is in the minority, Lord Raiford. No one but you takes exception to my presence here."
"No man in his rational mind would want you here."
"Now I suppose I should go away meekly," Lily mused, "my gaze cast down in shame. How dare I interfere in such a manly occupation as hunting? Well, I don't give this—" she made a snapping motion with her gloved fingers, "—for you and your self-righteous opinions. Now let go!"
"You're not riding," Alex muttered. Something broke free inside him, driving him beyond rational thought. Caroline, no,
Oh God—
"I'll be damned if I'm not!" Lily jerked at the reins, while the white palfrey sidestepped uneasily. Alex's grasp remained
unbroken. Shocked, Lily stared into gray eyes as reflective as mirror glass. "You're mad," she whispered. They were both still.
Lily was the first to move, lashing out with her whip in a stroke of rebellious rage. It caught Alex underneath the jaw, leaving
a streak of red that ended at the tip of his chin. Spurring the palfrey forward, Lily used the burst of motion to free the reins
from the snare of his fingers. She rod
e away without looking back.
The confrontation had been so quick that no one had noticed. Alex wiped the smear of blood from his jaw, barely noticing the
sting of pain. His mind was whirling. He wondered what was happening to him. For a few seconds he hadn't been able to
separate the present from the past. Caroline's light, far-away voice came to his ears. "Darling Alex . . . then don't love me . . ." He flinched, his heart beginning to pound as he remembered the day she had fallen . . .
"An accident," one of his friends said quietly. "Unseated. I knew when she fell— "
"Get a doctor," Alex said hoarsely.
"Alex, it's no use."
"Damn you, get a doctor or I'll—"
"Her neck was broken by the fall."
"No-"
"Alex, she's dead. . ."
His groom's voice abruptly recalled him to the present. "My lord?"
Alex blinked and focused his gaze on the shining chestnut gelding, chosen for its combination of power and suppleness. Taking
the reins, he mounted the horse easily and glanced across the clearing. Lily Lawson was chatting and smiling with the other
Then came you, by lisa kleypas.txt Page 4
