Читать книгу Taming The Duke - Jackie Manning - Страница 7

When Dalton returned to the ballroom, he was more determined than ever to find out what Olivia had learned about the mysterious Lady Alicia. His gaze veered toward the crush of his mother’s guests—London’s finest. Damn, his sister was nowhere in sight.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Elizabeth waving to him from a crowd of admiring young bucks. Dalton nodded politely, giving her a warm smile.

His mother caught his attention. Garbed in black widow’s weeds, her diamond tiara atop her elaborately styled black hair, Mildred, the five-and-fifty-year-old dowager duchess of Wexton was still an attractive woman. She held court to the admiring throng of society’s ton as she always had. Several wives of the earls and viscounts met his eye. Dalton gave them a perfunctory nod.

His mother knew the latest rumor and scandal, although she’d never admit it to him. How ironic, he mused. As he stood watching her, the unbidden childhood image of his mother and her lover jumped into Dalton’s thoughts. He immediately pushed away the painful memory.

Reluctantly, Dalton made his way through the crush until he stood at his mother’s side.

“It’s about time you made your appearance, Dalton.” With stony dignity, her fingers brushed the glittering onyx-and-diamond necklace at her throat. In a whisper for his ears only, she added, “I expect you to attend these—”

“Dalton,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She curled her hand around his sleeve, then gave the dowager a most dazzling smile.

“Your grace, surely you don’t wish to keep your son from his guests?” she teased. “We see so little of Dalton as it is.”

A look of pleasure transformed the older woman’s thin face. “Surely my son doesn’t ignore you, dear Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth coquettishly tilted her head at Dalton. “Yes, he ignores me most outlandishly.” She pursed her lips into a delicate pout.

“I have been attending to the needs of one of the guests,” Dalton said without emotion. “A special favor, you might say.”

Curiosity sparkled Elizabeth’s green eyes. “A special guest? Do I know him?”

“I couldn’t say.” Dalton felt a hint of satisfaction in countering her undisguised curiosity. He patted her gloved hand. “I’m afraid I must be leaving,” he said, peeling her hand from his arm. “I hope to see you tomorrow.”

His mother waved her fan in a furious blur.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mother.” He gave her a dismissive bow, then one to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s cheeks blushed. He wasn’t aware that she had followed him out of the ballroom until he reached the hall. She rounded on him. “How dare you ignore me!”

Dalton stepped to one of the small private alcoves along the corridor. “Elizabeth, please—”

“You bastard!” Elizabeth’s eyes glittered with outrage. “How dare you treat me with such open disdain in front of everyone?”

Surprised, Dalton took a step back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She glared back. “Oh, yes, you do. Only this morning, Lady Fredricks told me that I should learn to whinny if I hope to gain any attention from you.” Angry red blotches begin to spread along her face and neck. “I’ll not become a laughingstock because of you. I won’t be ignored any longer!” She slapped his cheek, then spun around and rushed back toward the ballroom.

Dalton rubbed his stinging cheek and sighed. What in hell had brought that on?

“Dalton!” Olivia rushed along the hall to his side. “Whatever did you do to Elizabeth—?”

“I’m afraid it’s not what I did. It’s what I refused to do,” he replied playfully.

“Oh, Dalton. Trifling with Elizabeth can be a dangerous sport.”

Dalton laughed. “Dangerous?”

“Yes, dangerous.” Olivia’s blue eyes widened with alarm. “She fancies herself in love with you, Dalton.”

He felt a sudden jolt of sympathy for Elizabeth. “She’s still so very young, Olivia. Elizabeth only thinks she’s in love. By next week, she’ll outgrow her infatuation and fall hopelessly in love with someone else.” He winked at her. “You’ll see.”

Olivia shook her head. “Elizabeth is a headstrong woman who knows what she wants. She wants you, Dalton. I wish you’d take her seriously.”

He shrugged in futile helplessness. “You’re a delightful romantic, my sister. I hope your belief in true love will never desert you. But I’m afraid that every coupling can’t be as divine as yours and that husband you so cherish.”

Olivia frowned worriedly. “Sometimes you can be the most stubborn man.”

Dalton chuckled. “The evening is too lovely to spend arguing, Sister.” He took her arm and led her back toward the ballroom. “Forgive me for changing the subject, but have you spoken to Great-Aunt Mary about Lady Alicia?”

She stopped and looked up at him. Her fingers worked nervously with the ribbons on her fan. “Yes, I did.”

He glanced around for a quiet place to talk. “Come,” he said, urging his sister through the French doors and onto the terrace, away from the threat of meeting Elizabeth again. He took a deep breath of the invigorating night air. “Let’s take a walk through the gardens.”

Lilting music floated from the ballroom’s open windows as they strolled across the broad terrace. When they came to an empty bench beneath towering rhododendrons, they took a seat.

Olivia collected herself. “Alicia’s father is a notorious drunk, a gambler who has almost lost their family estate many times. Three years ago, when Alicia arrived for her first Season, she was thrown into the most shocking scandal.”

Dalton knew that Olivia, unlike their mother, disliked gossip, and he wished he could have found out what he needed to know about Lady Alicia Spencer some other way. But he needed to be discreet, and Olivia was one of the few people he trusted.

“The incident happened during Lady Alicia’s first ball, which was given by Mother at our London town house. It was also Elizabeth’s first Season. In fact, mother was Elizabeth’s patroness that year. Do you remember, Dalton?”

He shook his head. “No. That spring I was in Portugal, fighting with Wellesley’s campaign. Just before Drake enlisted—”

His words faded when he saw the pained expression cross Olivia’s face at the mention of their brother. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I didn’t mean…”

She laid her white-gloved hand on his sleeve. “It’s quite all right, Dalton.” She paused, glancing up at the stars twinkling overhead. “You’d think after three years that I would accept that he’s never coming home.” She shook her head. “I know I sound foolish, Dalton. Forgive me.”

“You’re not foolish, my dear. I miss him, too.”

“The worst part for me was not having Drake’s body returned to England. I so hate to think—”

He patted her hand. “Drake will remain alive in our hearts as long as we remember him, Olivia. He’d be so proud that you named your first son after him.”

The tight smile on Olivia’s lips faded. “Thank God that you returned safely from the war. I don’t know what I would have done without you, too.”

Olivia, so sensitive, so caring. He squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort. She was almost nine years younger than he; maybe that was why he would always feel so protective of her.

“I haven’t told you the worst about Lady Alicia’s past,” Olivia said, recovering. She met his gaze. “On the evening of Alicia’s first ball, she was found with your friend, Justin Sykes, alone in his bedroom.”

“Sykes?” Dalton released her hand. “I don’t believe it.”

She nodded. “There’s no mistake. In fact, Great-Aunt Mary said that Mother and several of her friends found them together.”

Dalton furrowed his brows in disbelief. Justin Sykes’s reputation as a rake and a scoundrel was well-known. Rumor had it that he’d made his wealth from selling contraband to Napoleon’s troops, but Dalton had never believed it. Certainly an innocent like Alicia would be warned to steer clear of such a scoundrel, unless she thought herself in love with him. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. Word of the affair spread and by nightfall of the next day, Lady Alicia had returned home in utter disgrace.” Blue eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. “Great-Aunt Mary remembers the incident vividly. Before Alicia’s downfall, everyone said that she was by far the most beautiful jewel of the Season.”

“Did Sykes offer for her?”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “That’s what upset everyone the most. Justin Sykes offered to marry her, and the girl turned him down.”

“That’s devilishly queer. Why?”

“Despite all the rumors, no one knew the truth.”

Dalton thought back to the lovely, free-spirited woman who had barely concealed her animosity toward him. Beneath her plain gown, he’d seen the full high breasts and the feminine outline of her tiny waist and gently rounded hips, and he remembered his immediate reaction to her. He prided himself on being able to look beyond this sort of attraction to women in order to make astute judgments of the fair sex.

Yet the more he discovered about Alicia, the more mysterious she became. Now, he understood her initial refusal to tend Bashshar, and the sacrifice she’d made to come to the family estate and face his mother.

“I’ve done Lady Alicia a grave disservice, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean, Dalton?”

“Alicia has put aside her feelings about our mother to help an injured animal. She’s here solely because she wants to cure Bashshar.”

“Hmm. I see she’s impressed you, brother.” A note of inquisitiveness rang on her words. “I’m curious to meet her.”

“Perhaps you could pay her a visit tomorrow. I haven’t told anyone else that she’s arrived. I’m afraid you might be her only friend while she’s here.”

“Oh, Dalton. Mother will never permit her to stay.”

“I’m now the duke. Mother will have to accept the fact.”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t underestimate the damage Mother can do, Dalton. She’s still one of the most powerful members of the ton. She can destroy people with her tongue as easily as Wellington can with his sword.”

“No need to warn me about the dragon,” he answered lightly.

Olivia’s assessing gaze told Dalton that she was wondering, again, what he knew about their mother that had so hardened him against her. But Olivia also knew that he would never speak of the matter.

“Let me escort you back to the ballroom, Sister. Your husband must be frantically looking everywhere for you.” He rose and took her hand, then accompanied her back toward the hall.

After Dalton left Olivia, he headed for the livery stable. He wanted to check on Bashshar for the night.

When he came to the stables, golden light flickered from the west windows of the building. Since the accident, Dalton had ordered the lanterns high above Bashshar’s stall to remain lit, hopeful the small gesture might ease the stallion’s fears.

The memory of Bashshar’s injury still haunted Dalton. So far, he had found no sound reason for anyone to shoot at him. But from the footprints the gamekeeper had found, there was little doubt that the shooter had waited for some time, stalking Dalton when he returned from Bashshar’s workout.

Inside the stable, Dalton strode along the corridors. Several horses whinnied a greeting. When he approached Bashshar’s stable room, a faint nicker told him that Bashshar recognized his footfalls. Dalton smiled, taking that as a sign of improvement. After the accident, Bashshar wasn’t able to recognize what was familiar, what was strange. The horse saw everything as an attack.

When he approached the stall, Dalton noticed the bar across the door had been removed. Irritation rushed through him. It wasn’t like Ulger or the staff to be careless and leave Bashshar’s stall unlocked! Dalton eased the door open.

Alicia stood alone beneath the overhead lantern, barely a few feet from Bashshar. The stallion lowered his head, not making a sound. Dalton wanted to rush to her, protect her in case Bashshar reared. Instead, Dalton hesitated, afraid to make a sudden movement that might startle the horse.

She was dressed in a pristine nightgown, with white lace circling her neck. Her unbound auburn hair shimmered like liquid fire beneath the lamplight. The white wool shawl draped around her shoulders did nothing to prevent his imagination from visualizing what she’d look like naked.

My God, she looked like an enchantress!

He was reminded of the scene painted across the ceiling of the hunting lodge. Potnia, the auburn-haired mistress of wild animals, cavorted in naked splendor among the clouds, surrounded by lions, griffins and deer.

Alicia turned to look at him, her fingers stroking Bashshar’s neck. The stallion raised his powerful black head suddenly, as though showing his master the strange interloper in their midst.

Dalton couldn’t believe his eyes. In one brief visit, Alicia had soothed the animal more than the other handlers had done in the past month.

How vulnerable and alluring she appeared in the soft lantern light. Gone was the stubborn glint in her large brown eyes. Now, those soft, velvety orbs were filled with compassion for Bashshar.

Perhaps it was appreciation that filled his heart. She had put aside her anger to come to the estate to aid a wounded animal. Just watching her with Bashshar gave him hope that this strange young woman might accomplish what the horse experts had said couldn’t be done.

Were you in love with Justin Sykes? he wanted to ask. Then for a split second, Dalton didn’t care. He wanted her. Desire charged through his veins like molten lava. He wanted to be the man who would tame her haughty spirit.

“You’re staring at me.” She bit her bottom lip as she studied him with an innocence that nearly undid him. What the hell was the matter with him? He forced the incredible idea from his mind.

Maybe his strange feelings were the result of learning the details about her fall from grace. When was the last time he’d heard of another human being, with nothing to gain, performing a sacrifice for him?

Sacrifice, hell! Even though Alicia had refused Cinnamon Rose, more than likely she knew that her father would insist upon the mare as payment.

Suddenly Bashshar whinnied, tossing his head, his ears back. Dalton leaped forward, grabbing the stallion’s bridle, holding the horse firmly. “Perhaps it’s best if you return to your cottage.”

“Bashshar has a right to express himself when he wants,” she whispered, not wanting to excite the horse.

Express himself? Dalton turned to stare at her. “Bashshar isn’t your common, tea-party-variety horse, Lady Alicia. He’s injured and he’s not responsible for what he’s doing. Besides, he obeys only me.”

Alicia pulled the shawl tightly around herself and lifted her chin in that stubborn way Dalton was beginning to recognize. “Then give Bashshar the orders, not me. For I don’t obey you, your grace.”

Dalton couldn’t help but laugh. “Then consider it a suggestion rather than an order. Return to your cottage, my lady. I had a good reason for wanting you to wait until morning to see the horses. Many guests wander into the stables, eager for a midnight ride. What would they think if they found an angelic beauty wandering half-clad among the stalls.”

She patted at the folds in her nightgown. “And what are you doing here, so late at night?” Her tone made him feel as though he were the trespasser. “Are you planning a midnight ride?”

“No. I always look in on Bashshar before retiring. Regardless of what you might think of me, I care about Bashshar.”

“Tell me how Bashshar was injured. You’ve frightened your stable boy so badly that the lad is afraid to speak of the incident.”

“You’ve been questioning my servants?” He smiled and folded his arms across his chest.

She glanced at Bashshar. “I’m here to try to heal your horse.” Her aloof expression faded to one of compassion. “I need to know the truth about the accident.” Her voice softened and there was no trace of her earlier rancor.

Dalton studied her. As she gazed at the stallion, goodness illuminated her face. When she looked like that, he felt he could trust her completely.

“It was late afternoon,” he began. “I was returning from exercising Bashshar, when a shot rang out from the nearby gaming fields. We were almost on top of the man when the second gun fired—the shot that struck Bashshar.”

“Did you see the shooter?”

“No, he was too well hidden in the hedgerow.”

“Then why do you think the shooter was a man?”

Surprised, Dalton hesitated. “The idea that it might be a woman never crossed my mind.”

Alicia’s eyes flashed. “Really?” Her lips twitched. “You’ve never given a woman reason to shoot at you?”

He chuckled. “You bring up an interesting point.”

Alicia’s expression turned serious. “Were you injured, too?”

“No.”

Alicia touched the horse’s cheek. “Since the incident, you haven’t found out any more about the shooter?”

“The authorities are still examining the matter.”

She nodded, as though satisfied for the moment. “I believe I understand Bashshar’s fear.” She stroked the length of the animal’s nose with a feather touch.

Dalton studied her delicate hands. For an instant, he could almost imagine those cool, soft, healing fingers upon his brow. “What is it you do? Do you see into the animal’s mind?”

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the horse. “No. I can’t see things. I only sense things. Usually only fragments. But with Bashshar, I felt his panic before I opened the stall door and saw him.” Her eyes brightened. “I also sensed that he wanted me to help him.”

Bashshar was accepting her more readily than Dalton thought possible. What was there about this young woman that filled him with hope? Maybe he only wanted to believe that Bashshar might be saved? “How do you heal the animals?”

The question caused her to turn and smile at Dalton. How lovely she looked when she smiled. Or was it that she seemed, for the first time, to be at ease with him?

“It’s quite natural, really.” Her eyes shone. “First, I must gain their trust. Although this takes time, I begin by filling my mind with a sense of peace. Perhaps the animal senses that if I’m serene, then I won’t harm it.” Her cheeks brightened with a pink tinge, as if she expected he might ridicule her explanation.

Instead, Dalton was enthralled. “Who taught you this skill?”

“My grandfather taught me about horses and their training.”

“Your mother’s father?”

“Yes, the earl of Longworth.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Dalton said, amazed that he hadn’t made the connection between Alicia and her well-known grandfather.

She smiled when she recognized his admiration. “My grandfather built Marston Heath on land he had inherited from his father. Grandfather was an expert horseman, who had developed a fine stable of racing stock before he died.”

Dalton felt overwhelmed with curiosity. He wanted to know everything about her. “What did he teach you about horses?”

She chuckled. “It would take months to answer that question.” She glanced at Bashshar, her face becoming serious. “My grandfather had translated and studied the work of Xenophon, the Greek, whose training of horses in the third century, B.C., advocated kindness rather than cruelty.” Her eyes sparkled with the memory. “My grandfather taught me Xenophon’s techniques, which I’ve used with success on most animals.” She brought her gaze back to his and smiled faintly. “I think you would have liked my grandfather, but he died six years ago.”

“I would have considered meeting him a privilege,” Dalton said, gazing into her immense brown eyes. Standing in the golden lantern light, in Bashshar’s stall, she looked so natural, as though she were at home with the animals.

“The way you look just now, reminds me of Potnia, the Greek goddess of wild animals,” he said. “In the hunting lodge, there’s a ceiling mural of her, standing in the forest among lions and deer.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “She is also called the Sweet Virgin, and she’s usually shown with her magical griffins, which are thought to protect her.”

He lifted a black brow in amazement. “You’re familiar with Greek mythology?”

She smiled. “My grandfather was also a scholar, who believed in the unpopular notion that women should be educated. My mother and her sisters were much too proper to care for books, but I loved to read. My grandfather taught me French, Latin and Greek, which came easily to me. He taught me history, literature and art,” she added wistfully.

He realized again how truly amazing she was. She was nothing like his mother, or Elizabeth or the practiced lovers he had known. Alicia appeared to have a stronger inner strength than his sister, Olivia, but maybe Alicia’s pride gave that impression. All he knew was that the more he learned about Alicia, the more he wanted to know.

“This sense of peace,” Dalton said. “How do you manage it?”

She blushed becomingly, and, if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought her shy. “No one has ever asked me that.” Her gaze remained on the horse, her left hand petting the powerful neck.

Dalton was aware she hadn’t answered his question, but he decided not to pursue it. Instead, he took her free hand and placed it against his chest. “What do you feel now, Alicia?”

Her dark eyes widened as he felt his heartbeat pound beneath her fragile touch. “Surely if you can behold a horse’s spirit, you can behold a man’s?”

A sudden spark ignited between them. He felt it through his fingers. Or had he imagined it?

Alicia curled her fingers into her palm and withdrew her hand. She stepped back, as though he had never asked the question. “I’ll provide you with daily reports of Bashshar’s progress, your grace.” Her voice held no emotion.

What had happened between them? For the briefest of seconds, he knew that she’d sensed it, too. Dalton stepped back, suddenly needing to break away. “If you require anything, ask Ulger, the stable master.” Dalton’s voice held steady, despite his sudden unease. “Ulger has been instructed to tell the servants to protect your privacy.”

Dalton opened the door and allowed her to pass in front of him. “I’ll drive you to your cottage in the carriage. It’s too dark for you to walk the long distance alone,” he added, returning the bar across the latch. He watched the deep crimson strands of her hair shine like live coals when she walked beneath the lantern. She hurried through the long building until the main entrance came into view.

Outside, he handed her into the carriage. “I hope you found your quarters to your liking.”

“Yes, thank you.”

He noticed she was trembling. Was she suddenly afraid to be alone with him? Dalton wondered. Or was it his earlier remark that at any hour, a member of the ton might enter the stables?

When they finally reached the cottage, he helped her down and bowed as gallantly as if she were debutante of the year. “Good night, Lady Alicia.”

Before going inside, she waited until the carriage wheeled along the path and disappeared into the night. “Good night, your grace,” she whispered when her breath finally returned.

The morning’s sunlight bathed the snowy marble walls of the horse stables with gold rays. Alicia checked over her charge. Bashshar stood patiently, showing no sign of his past nervousness. Sensing only mild apprehension in the animal this morning, she felt pleased and relieved that the stallion was accepting her so readily.

Oats brimmed from the grain bucket, fresh hay and water had been carried inside and fed to the stallion. If no one could handle Bashshar except Dalton, that meant the duke must have performed the chores himself, leaving before daylight.

“So, you’ve already seen your master?” She grinned when Bashshar tossed his head. “Then you won’t mind if I leave you for a bit.” She smiled when the stallion hesitated, as though listening to her words. “I’ll look in on you, later.”

She moved at a snail’s pace toward the door, doing nothing that might startle the animal and break the thin line of trust they had established.

Alicia found a shortcut through the woods to the cottage. The walk was shorter but, more important, the trail was more isolated from the chance meeting of strangers along the bridal path nearby. When she heard footsteps outside the cottage door, she peeked out the window. She was surprised to see a gentlewoman standing at the door with her maid. The lady, a lovely, fair-haired woman, was dressed in a green riding costume and matching feathered bonnet.

“Good morning, Lady Alicia,” the woman said when Alicia opened the door. “I’m Lady Olivia Seabrook, Dalton’s sister.”

Alicia invited her inside, then suddenly realized how she must look. “Forgive my appearance, my lady, but—”

“No need to apologize, my dear. You look lovely.” The maid remained outside while Olivia removed her gloves and took a seat by the window. “Last night, my brother confided the circumstances of your visit.” She smiled, and Alicia sensed that her kindness was sincere.

“Thank you, Lady Olivia. I believe I’ve made the beginning of a fragile truce with Bashshar.”

“I understand that you’re duty is foremost to Bashshar, but I’ll not let you spend all of your time in the stables.” Olivia paused, as though expecting Alicia to object. “I was on my way to ride this morning. My favorite mount is Mischief, the high-spirited roan in the east wing of the stable. Why don’t I have Mischief saddled for you, then you can join me on my ride? I’d like the chance for us to get to know each other.”

“But I thought—”

“It’s much too lovely a morning to waste inside.” She smiled, revealing deep dimples, just like Dalton’s.

“Thank you, Lady Olivia, but no. I’d rather remain out of the way of the other guests, if you don’t mind.”

“I thought we’d follow the secret little path I used to ride as a child.” Olivia spoke as though she hadn’t heard Alicia’s protest. “I’ll show you the view from where a waterfall spills into the pool overlooking the hills beyond.”

Alicia knew it would be best to refuse, but having a chance to converse with Dalton’s sister might be the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. The deep loneliness Alicia had perceived last night when he held her hand against his chest came as a shock to her. What she sensed was in direct contrast to the shallow image Dalton portrayed. “Very well, Lady Olivia. I’ll accept. But only a very short ride.”

“Splendid!” Olivia clasped Alicia’s hand. “I’ll call the maid to come inside and help you change. While you’re here, Marie will be your personal maid.”

“Should I ask Marie to instruct the stable master to saddle our horses?”

Olivia chuckled. “Forgive me, Lady Alicia, but I’ve already done so.”

While Alicia was changing into her riding habit, Olivia moved about the small cottage, staring in utter disbelief. “My brother must have used a London decorator. Everything is lovely,” she said finally. She studied the elegant bedroom—the Belgian lace coverlet and curtains, the enormous porcelain bathtub. “I’ve never seen a more beautifully shaped tub!” Pale pink cabbage roses, made so popular by Empress Josephine, were painted along the border of the chamber walls.

The maid finished buttoning the tiny jet clasps along Alicia’s jacket, then stepped back to allow Alicia room to see herself in the gilt-framed threeway mirror.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Olivia exclaimed. “The Prussian blue suits your lovely auburn hair and dark eyes.”

Alicia smiled at the compliment. She hadn’t worn the habit since her coming out three years ago. Her smile faded with the memory. The maid placed the wide-brimmed hat atop Alicia’s head and stepped back. “What thick, shiny hair. It’s a shame to cover it,” Marie said.

“Thank you,” Alicia said, feeling pleased with the way she looked. Vanity was a sin, she reminded herself. Never had she cared about finery, but for a moment, she wondered what Dalton would think if he saw her dressed so becomingly.

She immediately drew back in self-censure. She cared nothing for what that man thought.

Half an hour later, Olivia’s golden mare cantered easily beside Alicia’s spirited filly. “Havencrest is one of the most beautiful estates I’ve ever seen,” Alicia said finally. Besides immaculately groomed riding paths, the views from the verdant, rolling countryside were breathtaking.

“Havencrest has been in the family since the Tudors. When father died last year, Dalton inherited the estate along with the title.” Olivia gave her a sideways glance. “My poor brother. As though he’ll ever enjoy the titled responsibilities.”

Alicia’s curiosity rose. “Why not, my lady?” So far, she had learned very little about Olivia’s brother. It was as though Olivia felt guarded to talk about him.

“Dalton is much too unsettled to enjoy the country life. Only Bashshar’s injury keeps my brother here.”

Of course, Alicia realized. How could she have forgotten what men of the ton were like. Gambling halls, racetracks and beautiful women. Olivia was right. Men like Dalton could never appreciate the pastoral beauty of Havencrest. Yet Dalton had seemed genuinely concerned about Bashshar. A thought struck her.

“Lady Olivia, does your brother plan to race Bashshar?”

Olivia raised a brow. “Bashshar’s sire was an Arabian racer, bred to our English Thoroughbred.” She paused. “My brother’s dream was to see Bashshar win the Newmarket Classic this year.” She sighed. “Now, there’s little chance that will happen.”

So that was the reason Dalton was so desperate for Bashshar to recover. He was concerned with the money and prestige that came with owning a racing champion. The knowledge somehow deflated her spirits.

“I believe Dalton said your family owns racing stock, Lady Alicia. Have you a racehorse entered in an upcoming heat?”

Alicia smiled, thinking of Jupiter, her first racing colt to come from their stable. “My two-year-old has promise. I’m hoping to enter him in the Newmarket Classic this year as well.”

Olivia looked impressed. “I wish you the best.” Before she could say more, the sound of galloping hooves hammered along the path. She looked up to see two riders galloping toward them. Tall, elegantly dressed, both men rode with the agility of experts. They gallantly brought their horses to the verge, allowing Alicia and Olivia the right away.

“Lord Theodore Clitheridge and Lord Templestone,” Olivia greeted the men warmly before introducing Alicia to them.

Lord Clitheridge doffed his hat, staring at Alicia with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. “My compliments to your father, Lady Alicia, for having such a lovely daughter.”

Alicia smiled graciously, despite Lord Clitheridge’s veiled hint that he knew of her damaged reputation by mentioning that he knew her father. No doubt he obliged himself not to give her the cut direct out of deference to Lady Olivia. Alicia would rather show ignorance to his innuendo than let him see her dismay.

The second man, Lord Templestone, was dressed in pink satin and lace at his neck and cuffs. Alicia thought he looked like an overstuffed boudoir pillow.

Templestone tipped his hat. “I’ve never met your sire, Lady Alicia, but your beauty and grace do him much honor.”

Alicia thanked him. Beside her, Olivia chatted with ease. If she was aware of the men’s intimation, she gave no sign. Although Alicia had yearned to ride, she should never have accepted Olivia’s invitation. Those who hadn’t known of her scandal would soon hear of it from those who knew. She forced a brave smile and met the men’s curious glances with confidence.

“Sorry to hear of Dalton’s stallion’s accident,” Lord Templestone said to Olivia. “Bad thing, that.”

“Bashshar is improving nicely,” Olivia answered.

“Heard the horse took quite a beating.” Templestone brushed at the sleeve of his riding jacket.

“You’re misinformed.” Olivia’s smile exuded charm, but her voice held an edge that wasn’t present before.

Lord Clitheridge looked as if he were going to say something when his attention was diverted to a man and woman racing across the green, directly toward them.

Alicia gazed at the riders. She felt a lump in her throat when she recognized Dalton, astride a pure white Arabian stallion. The lady riding beside him was perched sidesaddle atop a dun mare. Beneath the narrow-brimmed hat she wore, the woman’s gold hair shone like a newly minted coin. As they approached, Alicia noticed the lady peer at her with growing interest.

“Sister, I see you’ve met Lady Alicia.” Dalton made no move to introduce Alicia to his beautiful riding companion.

“Good morning, Elizabeth.” Olivia glanced toward Alicia. “Have you met Lady Alicia Spencer?” she asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s perfect features froze into a mask of distaste. With undisguised rancor, she turned to Dalton. “Shall we take the upper path?”

Elizabeth’s failure to acknowledge her, especially when Olivia had directly asked Elizabeth a question, was a cruel cut directed at Alicia.

Dalton’s expression gave no notice, but Alicia thought she saw a flinty look in his blue gaze. “You’ve picked a lively mount, Lady Alicia. Mischief enjoys testing a new rider. I warn you, she’s not as meek as she appears.”

“Don’t worry, your grace. Neither am I.” Alicia refused to remain and subject herself to further abuse. She whirled the spirited filly around. “Excuse me, please,” she said to Olivia before she turned the mare in the direction of the stables.

Almost immediately, the sound of a horse galloping behind her took her attention.

“I’ll race you back,” Dalton called out to her.

“Dalton!” Elizabeth’s voice charged with anger. “I’m your fiancée! You can’t leave me here!”

Dalton’s fiancée? Surprise and disappointment rushed over Alicia. For an engaged man to leave his partner alone while he charged off with another woman was the deepest insult—grave enough to endanger the engagement.

But what did she care? Dalton’s Arabian was almost beside her mare. She leaned forward, urging Mischief with encouragement. Moments later, the mare easily took the lead.

Within seconds, Dalton’s powerful beast galloped beside her again, but the light-footed Mischief had a head to be first. Spirit was everything, Alicia knew. Large, powerful horses might set a burst of endurance at the start, but like humans, a winning spirit was the key to heroic accomplishments.

Stately trees and low thickets rushed past in a green blur as they raced, their horses neck and neck. Surprised to hear her own peal of laughter amid the thundering hooves, she glanced a peek at Dalton.

His jet riding jacket fit his broad shoulders to perfection. Black, shiny leather boots molded to his muscled legs like a second skin. His rich baritone laughter rang through her thoughts. She couldn’t remember when she felt so exhilarated.

The stable’s long stone enclosure rose in the distance. Dalton’s horse inched alongside of Mischief, preparing to take the lead.

Alicia longed to win; she had to win if she was going to beat down the feeling that she was an outcast. She would win!

As they neared the west side of the stables, Dalton leaned over the saddle, easing into the lead. Just then, Alicia spotted the small cottage sitting to the left of the livery stable. If she were to veer to the right of the bungalow, then go behind the stables along the shorter path to the paddock entrance, she might beat Dalton, after all.

When they were within a hundred yards of the stable, Alicia urged her mount to the left. When Dalton glanced up to see where she was going, it was too late for him to follow. Alicia raced Mischief toward the bungalow. Passing the stable, she brought her mount along the side of the paddock.

Several grooms rushed toward her and helped her dismount. Her heart pounded in sweet satisfaction. A few seconds later, Dalton arrived on his stallion, and dismounted a few feet from her.

His mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “You win, Lady Alicia.”

“And a fair win it was,” she returned, waiting for his chiding to follow. Instead, he said nothing as he tossed the reins to a waiting groom.

Dalton would have won if she hadn’t veered from the path, and his gallantry wasn’t making her winning as satisfying as she’d hoped. It was almost as if he didn’t care who won.

“Too bad we didn’t place a wager,” he offered finally, his heated gaze fixed on her. “I might have tried harder.”

“Of course! How could I have forgotten that unless one bets, it’s not worth doing?” She glared at him. “I should be returning to Bashshar.”

“Dressed in such lovely finery?”

For the moment, she’d forgotten about her riding habit. A heat rose to her cheeks, and she wished he would leave. If only he had mentioned that he was engaged earlier.

But why should he? Dalton considered her nothing more than a stable hand, a nursemaid for his horse. Oh, why had she let Olivia talk her into leaving the stable and pretending to be someone she could never be?

Anger, frustration and something she didn’t recognize flamed within her. She was a lady, even if she had been snubbed by the ton. “Yes, I’ll change into something more suitable. If you’ll excuse me—”

Dalton grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her to face him. “I don’t know what possessed Elizabeth to act the way she did. Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged.”

“It’s none of my concern.” She brushed his hands from her shoulders.

“There’s nothing between us, Alicia. I have no arrangement with Elizabeth. We’re both free to do what we want.”

“I didn’t ask you for an explanation.” Alicia stepped back, but he moved with her.

“We’re not engaged.” He took her hand.

She felt his warmth, so close. Much too close. She felt suddenly dizzy. “Please, let me go.”

“It’s important that you believe me.”

“Oh, I see. Elizabeth is the liar and you’re telling me the truth. Is that it?” The paddock fencing seemed to spin around her. She felt warm and light-headed when he looked at her in such an intimate way.

“I don’t want you to think worse of me than you already do.”

“I suggest you have this conversation with your lady love, not with me.” Alicia tried to shake free of his hand, but he held her fast.

“Alicia, please—”

“Lady Alicia, if you please.” They faced each other, the awkward silence adding to the void between them. Finally, he released her. She gathered her skirts and rushed from the paddock.

Her hands were still trembling when she dashed inside the cottage and closed the door. She leaned against the smooth wood, her heart pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut. The handsome face of Dalton Warfield, the duke of Wexton, flooded her mind. His passionate eyes burned into her soul.

Dalton had looked so earnest, so trusting. Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged.

Why should she care if Dalton was telling the truth? She opened her eyes to her own painful truth. She did care. God help her, but she wanted to believe him.