The Wedding Affair Page 12

  A peal of giggles cascaded from the breakfast room into the hall, and half a dozen bridesmaids fluttered out. In their midst were Andrew Carlisle and the Earl of Townsend, and the bridesmaids’ attention seemed to be evenly divided.

  So the young ladies were not only pursuing the eligible males, Penelope realized, but some ineligible ones as well.

  Today the earl’s coat was a shade of dark blue that matched his eyes to perfection. His buckskins were spotless, and his boots reflected the spot of sunlight that fell across the marble floor of the hall. He looked absolutely perfect, and Penelope couldn’t take her gaze off him.

  He paused in midstride and returned her look with a thoughtful head-to-foot appraisal that made Penelope felt even more unkempt than usual. Lady Daphne’s stare had been a compliment in comparison, and she wished she had taken a few more minutes with her toilette. Not that it would have made much difference; sooner or later her hair would be falling down no matter what she did. At least no one could argue with the tailoring of her hunter-green habit or the gloss on her riding boots.

  As the group trailed out to the stables, where the horses were already saddled and a row of grooms waited at attention to adjust girths and stirrups, the earl stayed a few steps behind Penelope. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was there, and her heart skidded around in her chest.

  Lady Daphne looked around the stable yard. “Where’s my brother?”

  The stable master ducked his head respectfully. “The duke went out half an hour ago, my lady. He said he’d meet up with you in the village.”

  “Oh, fie. I’d planned to take the river route down to the abbey ruins. But I suppose if we must go to the village first to collect Simon, then we must.” Lady Daphne’s gaze fell on Penelope. “No doubt we’ll have to find some sort of cob you’re capable of riding, even though you’ll hold the rest of us up.”

  Penelope had reached her limit. “Perhaps, my lady, you should give me the most restive mount in the stable. After all, if the horse should throw and trample me, my husband might once more be free for your friends to pursue.”

  She felt the earl’s quick movement behind her. She hadn’t realized he was quite so close, and she hadn’t intended for him to overhear the exchange. She felt herself start to color.

  “We can’t allow an accident.” The earl came up beside her, running an eye over the row of horses. “May I choose a mount for you?”

  Penelope held her breath. He’d never seen her on horseback; there had been little opportunity in London for her to ride. What if he, like Daphne, assumed she was only capable of controlling some fat and placid old nag?

  He pointed out a trim little gray mare. “That one, I think.”

  Penelope nodded gratefully as he led the mare to the mounting block. “Thank you for not suggesting I’d be more at home on a hobbyhorse.”

  “Would you be?” he asked coolly. By the time she’d drawn a breath to answer, he had mounted a big gray gelding.

  Penelope tentatively touched the mare with her heel and moved away from the stable, getting the feel of the horse. She stayed on the fringes of the group, expecting no problem in keeping her distance from the earl. But whenever she glanced around, there he was within a few lengths and always with his gaze on her. His unsmiling regard made her itchy, and her nervousness seemed to transmit itself to the mare, who sidled and shied at shadows.

  Pay attention, Penelope warned herself, unless you want to be thrown and trampled!

  By the time they reached the village, she had herself in hand and had convinced the mare that the horse was not the one in charge of the expedition. She tried not to notice the earl, who seemed to still hover at the corner of her eye, but studied the village instead.

  On their arrival yesterday, they had swept down the main street so quickly that Penelope hadn’t paid much attention. Now she realized what a neat and well-kept little town it was—with a row of shops, a cluster of cottages, and a small stone church surrounded by a graveyard full of tall, bristling stones. A perfect little English village, steeped in tradition.

  Outside one of the cottages she spotted a pair of horses, saddled and bridled, standing by a garden gate. An urchin held the reins, but the animals seemed to pay him no heed; they pulled at his arm as they stretched over the wall to nibble at a flowering bush inside the garden. Coming down the walk from the cottage was the duke and beside him, with her hand on his arm, walked a woman in a well-worn dark habit.

  “At least now we know why he was in such a hurry to get to the village,” the earl said. “And what a reason she is, too.”

  Penelope shot a look at him and then turned to stare at the woman. Despite the slightly shabby habit, there was an air of elegance about her that sent shards of envy through Penelope. No matter what she herself did, she could never acquire that sort of polish—the smooth grace and the easy gliding walk that this woman displayed.

  Lady Daphne’s gaze was sharp enough to hone steel. “Who is that?”

  “Lady Reyne.” Kate sounded as if she had swallowed something large and hard. “But why is Olivia riding with the duke?”

  “Perhaps because he asked her to,” the earl said, and once more Penelope caught a tinge of humor in his voice.

  “But he couldn’t have, sir,” Kate said. “The riding party was not mentioned until after dinner last night. I myself instructed Greeley to send word to the stables that horses would be required, but not until quite late in the evening.”

  “He has servants, Kate,” Penelope pointed out. “Grooms, boot boys, footmen… Any of them would cheerfully run an errand for a few coppers.”

  The earl was smiling. “Especially to the village, where they can stop at the taproom for a moment. It’s hardly any distance at all… for a man who has a mission.”

  Lady Daphne sniffed. “With Halstead full of eligible ladies, why would Simon want to ride with her?”

  The earl turned to survey Lady Daphne as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing. Then his gaze flicked once more over Lady Reyne as the duke helped her onto her horse.

  A born lady, Penelope thought. Lady Reyne was even graceful as she swung into the sidesaddle. And the way the duke was looking at her… He seemed entranced.

  Nothing about his gaze was at all similar to the way the earl was looking at Penelope. “Ma’am, if I might have a word…”

  Penelope said tartly, “You are having one.” She noticed Kate’s look of shock and thought better of her tone of voice. “Of course, sir.” She nudged her mare to the far side of the road.

  The earl followed. “You are a far better rider than you wanted Lady Daphne to believe.”

  That was what he had drawn her aside to say? “I thank you for noticing, my lord. Now that you’ve reassured yourself that I will not embarrass you by my performance, you no longer need to shadow me, and you may go about the business of entertaining Lady Daphne’s friends.” Or staring at the duke’s lady, which you’d seem to prefer.

  “Very well.” His voice dripped irony. “Since I have your gracious permission, I shall take care of entertaining myself for the rest of the day.” He touched his heel to the gelding’s side and moved away.

  Fool, Penelope told herself. Why had she spoken so sharply? She might have at least thanked him for choosing the mare, not some impossible mount. She could have expressed her appreciation for the confidence he had shown in her or for pretending he was concerned about her safety and her riding skills… No, for that would have been sarcastic. He had been concerned about her safety—and she ought to have acknowledged the fact.

  And she would have, if not for the sudden dart of jealousy that had shot through her.

  She watched as her husband paused beside the duke and his companion to exchange a few words. And she was very aware, as the group rode back through the village and took the first turning beyond the farthest cottage, that he did not rejoin the bridesmaids but dawdled toward the rear instead. Was he once more watching… oh, what had Kate called her? Lady Reyne
?

  The riders trailed through a little wood, so crowded by low-hanging branches that they had to ride slowly and single file, and Penelope was barely out from under the trees when she realized the earl had not come out the other side with the rest of them.

  She doubled back through the little grove and caught a glimpse of him wading his horse across a small stream a few hundred yards away.

  Impossible for him to have missed the way, which meant he intended to go somewhere else instead.

  The gelding splashed through the last of the water, climbed the shallow bank, and vanished through a small break in the underbrush.

  Penelope glanced over her shoulder. The group of riders was no longer in sight, and no one seemed to have missed her.

  She turned the mare toward the stream and followed her husband.

  ***

  For a moment when Olivia first woke, she thought she’d dreamed about the garden and the duke. Then she stretched and realized her muscles were sore. Lots of muscles, all over her. Her elbow bumped against a small, warm bundle, and she remembered the end of the evening—Charlotte’s nightmare and how instead of trying to settle the child back into her own bed, Olivia had taken the little girl in with her instead.

  Remorse swept over her. She’d been out in the garden consorting with a man when her baby needed her.

  The only thing worse, she reminded herself, would have been if the duke had been with Olivia in her bed when Charlotte came looking for her mother. At least she’d been spared the need to explain that.

  In fact, Olivia realized, the entire episode could be viewed as a gift—a clear message that she could not continue on this course. Though she was fortunate disaster hadn’t struck last night, only a fool would take such a risk again. How could she have imagined even for an instant that she could carry off an affair in the close confines of the cottage with no one being the wiser?

  “Mama.” Charlotte sat up and yawned. “There was a bad man last night.”

  “It was only a dream, darling. You’re perfectly safe. Come along. You can help me fix your breakfast.”

  Nurse was already in the kitchen, where she had built up the fire and set a pot of porridge boiling. She looked Olivia in the eye and said, “I don’t know how Miss Charlotte got out of the nursery this morning without rousing me, but it won’t happen again.”

  Olivia wished she herself could feel as certain. If Nurse hadn’t even realized it wasn’t morning when Charlotte had wandered off but the middle of the night instead… “You must have been sleeping very soundly.”

  “I was that scared when I found her gone.” Nurse’s voice shook a little. “Even after I peeked in and saw she was with you…”

  Olivia scooped porridge into a bowl and set it on the table to cool.

  “I want to make breakfast,” Charlotte muttered, but at Nurse’s look, she subsided into her chair and stirred the concoction.

  Olivia tied on an apron and cut a slice of bread from yesterday’s baking. “The laundry can wait until tomorrow, but the grapes won’t keep. If we’re to have grape juice and jelly this winter…”

  So much for the idea of a ride this morning, of being out in the countryside enjoying nature and fresh air. Had she ever really let herself believe she might have such an outing? In any case, if the duke did appear this morning…

  As if the thought had summoned him, a shadow fell across the kitchen door and the duke loomed up outside.

  Charlotte’s spoon stopped moving as her big brown eyes focused on the duke. “I remember you.”

  Olivia froze.

  “You caught me when I fell off the wall.”

  The incident hadn’t unfolded quite that way, of course. Memory was an odd thing, and Olivia thought perhaps that was just as well. “Charlotte, practice your curtsey to His Grace, please.”

  “You are not ready to ride, Lady Reyne. Is there a problem?”

  The duke’s rich, deep voice wrapped around Olivia as warmly as the blanket had the night before, and suddenly she felt hot and tense. This was not how she had envisioned their next encounter.

  No, you imagined meeting in a quiet corner where other people couldn’t intrude, where you could enjoy making love forever with no threat of interruption…

  “I can’t go, Your Grace. I have my daughter to look after and far too much to do. This floor needs scrubbing, and we have grape jelly to make.”

  He said quietly, “Am I to understand you’re going back on your word?”

  “I…” She shot a look at Nurse. “Please get Miss Charlotte dressed while her breakfast cools enough to eat.”

  He waited until they were alone and then moved a little closer. “What happened between us last night does not fulfill the bargain we made, Lady Reyne.”

  “I know.” She felt herself color. “That was just the—added spice.”

  “Perhaps you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy that spice?”

  She would be wasting breath to say so. Even if Olivia could bend her tongue around the untruth, this arrogant male would never believe her. In any case, an unvarnished announcement would doubtless carry more weight than any logic or argument. “Do not fear that I shall try to cheat you, Your Grace. You don’t owe me anything. The truth is I simply can’t go on.”

  “If you do not have a distaste for my lovemaking, then it must have been your child waking that upset you so and changed your mind.”

  Olivia nodded. “Nurse was abjectly apologetic this morning, but the fact is… Well, she was my own nurse when I was a child, and though Charlotte loves her—”

  “Perhaps she’s too old to look after such an active sprite as your daughter?”

  “If her only duty was to look after Charlotte, I wouldn’t be so concerned, but in such a small household Nurse has many responsibilities. It’s no surprise if sometimes she sleeps too soundly to hear Charlotte stirring. However, if Charlotte were to stray again and Nurse didn’t hear her, and I was not at hand… I cannot take the chance.”

  “Certainly not.”

  How very odd, Olivia thought, that his stern pronouncement didn’t engender even a whisper of relief. Surely she should feel reassured because he understood her dilemma.

  She told herself she was only upset because the affair would have been such a sensible way to solve all her financial problems. This letdown she was feeling was nothing personal. She couldn’t possibly be disappointed.

  “Miss Charlotte needs more than one person to look after her,” the duke said. “I will make arrangements.”

  “But… Wait. What arrangements can you possibly make? If you’re thinking I need a nursery maid, please stop right now. I can’t afford another servant.”

  He smiled, and Olivia felt her heart rock like a baby doll in a cradle. “Of course you can,” he said gently. “You’re to receive an annuity, remember?”

  She said tartly, “All right, someday I’ll be able to afford another maid. But the fact is that everyone in the district who is able to work is already employed at Halstead. Remember the maid who admitted you yesterday? She’s gone to work for Mrs. Greeley.”

  “Have you paper and ink, Lady Reyne? I wish to send a message.”

  The way he said her name made Olivia’s toes curl. Though he sounded perfectly respectful, the underlying note of sensuality rubbed her like velvet brushing her skin. He hadn’t so much as touched her this morning, but every inch of her body was alert—especially her breasts, her hips, and the secret spots he had caressed so thoroughly last night…

  “Paper?” he repeated. “Ink?”

  Annoyed for letting herself be distracted by the husky note in his voice, Olivia snapped, “I’m poor, Your Grace, not destitute.” Charlotte bounded back into the kitchen, with Nurse close behind. “Run into the sitting room, darling, and bring paper and ink for His Grace. Careful with the inkwell, mind.”

  “Go and put on your habit while I write my message, Lady Reyne. The horses are standing, and the other riders will be along at any moment.” There was an
unmistakable note of command underlying the duke’s soft tone. “You said you wouldn’t cheat me, my lady—and I shall hold you to your promise.”

  ***

  Kate watched in astonishment as the duke gently settled Olivia into the sidesaddle, adjusting the length of her stirrup with his own hands. He had brushed aside the groom who came running up to help, to take care of Lady Reyne himself.

  No wonder the stable master hadn’t dared to look Lady Daphne in the face when he’d told her that her brother had already ridden to the village. No wonder he hadn’t volunteered the fact that the duke had taken a lady’s mount with him…

  Kate stole a glance at Daphne and was not surprised to see her looking dazed. Kate felt the same way. The last time she’d seen Olivia and the duke together, they’d been sniping at each other over diamond bracelets; the time before that, they’d been quarreling over Charlotte. Now they seemed suddenly on the best of terms.

  A roan gelding sidled up beside Kate’s mare, so close that the white cuff atop Andrew Carlisle’s boot brushed the folds of her habit. “Have you any notion what the duke is planning? Who is she, anyway?”

  “Perhaps you should ask His Grace to introduce you. But I wouldn’t suggest flirting with Lady Reyne. She’s a widow and therefore available.” Andrew looked puzzled, and Kate was ashamed of herself. “I overheard you and Lady Townsend last night as you walked her to her door,” she explained without quite looking at him. “You said you were sorry you could not attend her wedding, because if you’d had the opportunity you might have stolen her away from her husband, and…”

  Andrew smiled. “And she asked me whether I flirt with every woman I meet or only the ones who are safely out of reach. Yes, Penny Wise made it clear that whatever else she might be, she’s not a fool. But I am flattered you hovered nearby to listen, Kate. Where were you? I ask only because I find it difficult to believe I didn’t notice you. Somewhere near the top of Halstead’s stairway there must be a hidden corner.”