Читать книгу Project Duchess - Sabrina Jeffries - Страница 15

Chapter Six

The day after the funeral, Beatrice hurried up the hill to the kennels where she hoped to find Joshua. Unfortunately, she could no longer put off discussing her impending debut with him.

Fortunately, the funeral had gone according to plan yesterday. Judging from the compliments Beatrice had received from the male servants in attendance, everything had met with the family’s approval. Not to mention, the townsfolk’s. The liberal pouring of port for the mourners hadn’t gone unnoticed. The Wolfe family’s generosity had mightily impressed the locals who hadn’t been fond of Uncle Armie and his skinflint lack of support for the town.

That might also ease how Sanforth’s citizens regarded her and Joshua, who were both presently seen as somewhat freakish—her because of her tomboy ways and Joshua because of his erratic behavior and his bad leg. If the town accepted their relatives, and their relatives accepted her and Joshua, then the town might actually change its opinion about her and Joshua, too.

She could only hope so, since she feared that despite her aunt’s efforts, she was well on her way to becoming a spinster. Especially if Joshua refused to allow her aunt to give her a come-out.

Oh, but she would give him what for if he balked. Just see if she didn’t.

Emboldened by that thought, she entered the empty yard that adjoined the kennels, a limestone structure at the other end. The yard, too, was surrounded by limestone—high walls meant to keep the hounds in when they were dashing about.

At once she spotted her brother leaning on his cane and speaking to the Master of the Hounds, Mr. MacTilly. She closed the gate behind her, so no dogs could escape.

When Mr. MacTilly saw her coming, he halted his conversation to tip his hat to her. “A good day to ye, miss. Come to take some of the wee beasties for a walk, are you?”

“That . . . and to speak to my brother.”

Joshua swiveled to face her, his weathered face wrought in a frown. “What about?”

“And a cheery good morning to you, too,” she said acidly. “You must have risen quite early. If you came home last night at all.” When Joshua’s frown deepened, she cast Mr. MacTilly a meaningful glance, who hastily said, “I’ll go gather the hounds most in need of exercise,” before hurrying off into the building itself.

“What do you want, Beatrice?” Joshua asked.

“Aside from desiring to know where you were last night that had you coming in so late I never saw you?”

His face closed up. “I had things to attend to in Leicester.”

Leicester was three hours away by post. He’d been making frequent trips there in the past few months, for no reason she could see. “Oh, and what might those things be?”

“None of your concern.”

“Joshua—”

“I don’t have time for one of your inquisitions!” When she stiffened, he rubbed his hand over his face. “Just tell me what you need, all right? So I can get on with my work.”

What she needed was to hear why he’d been disappearing to Leicester for several nights in the past year, but she’d asked before, and “none of your concern” or something of that ilk was all he ever said. She would worry he spent the time drinking in one of the taverns, except that he never smelled of spirits and there were taverns in Sanforth he could go to more easily. So what was he up to that required such secrecy?

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t why she was here, anyway. Let him keep his secrets, as long as they didn’t involve her. “I need to talk to you about something concerning our aunt and cousins.”

He muttered an oath. “I went to the funeral as you demanded, even though you know I’d rather bite off my tongue than go to such an affair. So, in my estimation, I’ve more than met my obligations to our relations.”

Egad, sometimes the man was so testy it made her insane. “Well, just barely, since you didn’t even come back to the house after the funeral to speak to my aunt or the other ladies.” When he bristled, she added hastily, “But don’t get your dander up. I’m not asking you to do anything more for them.” She thrust her hands behind her back to hide how her fingers were already forming fists. “I merely need to inform you of something they’re planning to do for me. Unless the gentlemen already mentioned it yesterday?”

His frown vanished. “No, no one mentioned anything. Thankfully, they spoke to me very little.”

“I can’t imagine why,” she said dryly. “You’re always so amiable in company.”

To her surprise, he laughed, which was rare enough that it heartened her. Perhaps this would go better than she’d feared.

“Anyway,” she went on, forcing some softness into her voice, “Aunt Lydia wishes to help me have a come-out. Along with Lady Gwyn.”

His amusement vanished as myriad other emotions washed his face, none of them readable, even to her. “A come-out,” he said dully. “In London society.”

“Of course, ‘in London society.’ Where else would it be? It’s hardly considered a come-out if I show up at an assembly in Sanforth, not that I ever could, since you won’t accompany me.”

“Your precious aunt Lydia could accompany you,” he said snidely. “Or even that Lady Gwyn woman, now that they both live at Armitage Hall.”

She stepped close to hiss, “Before long, they may be living in our house, and we may be living in the street. Once Sheridan takes a wife, he might wish to move Aunt Lydia into the dower house. And then where will we be?”

Looking away, he rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin.

“At least I am trying to endear myself to them,” she went on. “Not that it’s any great trial. They’re nice people. They treat me like family. And they don’t go hieing off to places at any hour of the night to do Lord knows what without a word to anyone. Nor do they expect their sisters to hang about for years, futilely hoping for some . . . some future beyond—”

“Enough, Beatrice.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “If you want a come-out, have one. I’ll see if I can’t . . . scrape together some funds.”

“You don’t need to. My aunt says she can afford to pay for mine since Thornstock is paying for his twin’s. Indeed, both Aunt Lydia and Lady Gwyn seem eager to help me gain a husband.”

“Which is all you want, isn’t it?” he said bitterly. “To get away from me.”

Of course he would see it like that. “I want to have a life, blast it! Yes, I want a husband and children to love and a home of my own that I can be sure won’t be pulled out from under me! Is that so unreasonable?”

He gaped at her, clearly thrown off by her fervent expression of her true desires, which she did try to hide around him, because she never knew what might set him off.

“It’s not unreasonable,” he finally said, tightening his hand on the head of his cane. “I just wish you would find a husband here, in town.”

“Yes, because there are so many young men around with a war on.”

The minute he went rigid she regretted mentioning the war. “Right,” he snapped. “All those men off serving their country while I hobble around here—” He caught himself. “Forgive me. I’m merely . . . annoyed that I can’t be the one to help you gain what you want. To ensure you have a proper debut.”

That stuck a pin in the balloon of her anger. “Oh, Joshua. I know where your heart is. I do.” She couldn’t resist lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. When he shied away from the affectionate gesture, she stifled a sigh and dropped her hand. “And it’s not as if you could do it on your own, anyway. I must have a woman present me. It’s really very kind of our aunt to offer.”

“Very kind, indeed,” he bit out. “That lot is nothing if not ‘kind.’”

The way he said it gave her pause. “What is that supposed to mean? You’ve barely spent time with our aunt, you ignore Sheridan, and you haven’t even met Lady Gwyn.”

“None of them has ever given a . . . bloody damn about what happens to you until now, and suddenly they show up offering you a debut in good society? Mark my words, they have some ulterior motive.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

Somehow she had to get her and Joshua out of this place, find somewhere more secure, where he could flourish. . . where she could flourish. Because right now they were dying a slow, miserable death amid the debris of Papa’s scandalous actions and Joshua’s deep wounds.

She was so sick of it. “Are you saying you won’t approve the scheme?”

The bleak anger in his hazel eyes made her want to cry. To her surprise, he said, “Of course I’ll approve it.”

She threw her arms about his neck, unable to keep from touching him. “Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re the best brother ever!”

Though he stiffened a bit, he didn’t push her away as he usually did. But he did say gruffly, “It isn’t as if you’re giving me much of a choice.”

She hugged him close. “I always give you a choice, Brother. As long as you make the right one.”

When she drew back, he was actually smiling. “I swear, duckie, you are growing up too fast.”

He hadn’t called her “duckie” in an age. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not only fully grown but rapidly approaching spinsterhood.”

“Nonsense. Any man with eyes can see you’re a diamond of the first water.”

“A diamond in the rough, perhaps,” she quipped. “And apparently, only blind men live around here.”

“Except our cousins, right?” Before she could answer, he added, “Very well, go on out into the great, wide world. I shan’t stop you.”

“You could accompany us to London,” she said on a breath. “I’m sure our aunt wouldn’t mind. And you deserve to be out in society, too.”

He scowled. “There is no way in hell I’m going near that cesspool. And trust me, no one wants me there, poking at all their pretensions.” He shoved his free hand in his coat pocket. “You go and enjoy yourself. You’ll have more fun without me. Just . . . well, I hope you’ll return here occasionally once you’ve taken some fine fellow for a husband.”

“I’ll be here so often you’ll be sick of me,” she said.

Still, she earnestly hoped that her “fine fellow” of a husband could help her discover a better post for her brother. One that made use of his education and experience and banished the sorrow in his eyes.

Because he deserved better. And by God, so did she.

* * *

Grey stood outside the gate to the kennel, noting the sounds of dogs barking as Miss Wolfe greeted each by name. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her and her brother. He’d come looking for her partly out of restlessness and partly out of a desire to get started on Sheridan’s damned assignment.

But then he’d overheard them arguing and had figured he might as well find out what he could, if only to pacify Sheridan. Grey had met Wolfe at the funeral, but he’d only had the chance to notice a few things. Wolfe was better-looking and more gentlemanly in appearance than Grey had expected, given his profession. Sheridan hadn’t been wrong about Wolfe’s arms, either—the major was built like a wrestler. He might walk with a cane, but it clearly didn’t keep him from working with his hands. And he was tall, too, though Grey had anticipated that since Beatrice wasn’t exactly short.

Still, other than noting aspects of Wolfe’s appearance, Grey had gleaned little, since he and the major had scarcely spoken two words to each other.

At least eavesdropping had elicited a bit more information. Grey hadn’t been able to make out the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough to determine that Miss Wolfe was concerned for her future. And rightfully so, since Wolfe was apparently going out at night to places he wouldn’t speak of to his sister.

But despite that and the major’s general crankiness, Wolfe didn’t seem the sort to fight for the dukedom. Nor did he sound like the reckless, half-mad fellow Sheridan had described. Wolfe certainly didn’t seem interested in murdering four men to inherit.

Miss Wolfe spoke from inside the kennel yard, “All right, lads, time for our walk.”

Holy hell. They were coming out. Grey didn’t want her to catch him lurking about like a servant listening at doors.

Feeling like an idiot, he retreated a short way down the hill, then waited until the kennel door opened before he retraced his steps up the hill toward her.

She emerged with three leashed pointers and shut the door behind them. Then she bent to say, in a girlish voice, “Now don’t tell Mr. MacTilly, but we’re going to have a fine run without these leashes, aren’t we?”

Caught off guard by her tone, Grey paused to watch as she continued to speak sweet nothings to the dogs while she unfastened the first leash.

He’d seen her shrewish and he’d seen her subservient, but he hadn’t yet seen her gentle. It twisted something inside his chest, making him uneasy.

When she went on to the next dog, she put her back to him and bent in a way that showcased her lovely bottom. Damn it all to hell. Her simple gown of black wool skimmed it provocatively. Ah, how he would love to put his hands on that luscious, full derriere.

To the last dog, she said, “None of that misbehavior you showed last time, do you hear me, Hercules? You’ll be a good boy for Beatrice, won’t you? I know you will, you darling rascal.”

As Grey’s loins clenched, he had the errant thought, Ah, yes, Miss Wolfe, I will be a very good boy for you. Just try me.

He wondered what she’d be like in bed, with her soft hands and full mouth caressing him. Or perhaps she’d turn fiery as she had the day they’d met, and she’d rise to meet his every thrust, wrapping those long legs about his hips as they—

God help him, what was he thinking?

Fortunately, just then the dogs rushed off down the hill and she turned to see him approaching.

She blushed deeply. “Your Grace.” Nervously she glanced back at the closed door, and lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he said as he reached her. “Sheridan told me you would most likely be at the kennels, and someone directed me to them.”

To you. And your very fetching behind.

Good God, he must get that image of her bottom out of his head. He felt as off-kilter as the hounds, who dashed madly down the hill, then back up, trying to coax her into following.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. One of the hounds came up to nuzzle her hand, and she scratched his head idly. “Does Aunt Lydia need me?”

Her mention of his mother dampened his desire at once. “No. She’s taking today to rest, thank God.”

An instant wariness darkened her features, which her short-brimmed bonnet didn’t shield in the least. “So why are you here?”

“Before I begin advising you and Gwyn on society’s rules, I thought you and I should get to know each other better. It might make things easier.”

“Then why isn’t Lady Gwyn joining us?” she asked, now clearly on her guard.

“Because I already know my sister quite well, Miss Wolfe,” he joked.

She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I-I meant . . . That is . . .”

“I know what you meant,” he said, taking pity on her. He wished he could make her feel as easy around him as she clearly did around Sheridan. “And besides, Gwyn is keeping Mother company.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Refusing to look at him, she smoothed down her rumpled skirts. “I have to walk the dogs. Pointers need lots of exercise or they—”

“—become restless and unmanageable. Yes, I know. Why don’t we walk them together? I promise I don’t bite, Miss Wolfe. No pun intended.”

Her lips twitched as if she fought a smile. “In my experience, sir, any man can bite if provoked.”

“Then don’t provoke me, and I won’t show my teeth.” When she bristled, he flashed her a grin meant to soothe. “You may have noticed I’m not easy to provoke. I’m like your pointers—ready to come to heel at a command.”

She snorted. “I rather doubt that, Your Grace.”

The use of the honorific irritated him. “Call me Grey, if you please, like the others do. Or even Greycourt, if you prefer. You’re not a servant, and I’m not your master.”

“All right. But then you must call me Beatrice like the rest of the family.”

“Not Bea?” he asked.

A sigh escaped her. “Don’t say anything to the others, but I can’t stand ‘Bea.’ It makes me think of old ladies.”

“Thank you for telling me. Though you ought to tell them, too.”

“I can’t. They’ve been so kind to me.”

“Ah. And no one could ever accuse me of that.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m teasing you,” he said with a laugh. “I told you, I’m not easy to provoke. All appearances to the contrary.”

“If you say so . . . Grey.” But her tone showed she was still wary.

Not waiting for him to lead the way, she headed down the hill with the dogs dancing ahead of her. Grey followed, noting how she seemed to control the hounds with an invisible leash. They never got too far ahead of her nor dashed off into the woods. And when one of them looked as if he might do so, she merely murmured a word, and he came to heel instantly.

“Your pointers are very well trained,” he observed.

“If you can tell that, you must be quite the hunter.”

“Actually, hunting isn’t my favorite pastime, but I do know dogs. I used to have two setters as pets. They were not well trained or even well behaved, for that matter. You’ve never seen a more rambunctious pair of rascals. No one could control them, including me.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Though I daresay you could have.”

“I should hope so. Setters aren’t so hard to train.” She fixed her gaze on the dogs gamboling ahead of them. “You said you ‘used to.’ What happened to your pets?”

After a moment, he said, “I had to leave them behind in Prussia when I came back to England to attend Eton.”

“Oh, how awful.” Sympathy flooded her face. “You must have missed them terribly.”

Not as much as I missed my family. “They were dogs, Miss Wolfe. Not children.”

He’d meant to put her off. Instead, she eyed him closely. “That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t miss them just the same.”

“I didn’t have time to miss them,” he said, then changed the subject. “So, I understand that you and your brother live in the dower house on the estate.”

For some reason, that turned her prickly once more. “We do, yes. At least as long as your mother prefers to live in the hall.”

“Trust me, my mother will always live as close to her children as is possible, so unless Sheridan kicks her out—”

“Or his new wife does,” she said tartly. Then she caught herself. “Forgive me, Your Grace. That was too blunt.”

“Would you please stop that?”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I meant to say ‘Grey.’”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Stop apologizing for saying what you think. It’s what I do every day of my life.”

That made her stiffen. “Because you can. You’re a duke, and a wealthy one at that. No one is going to stand up to you, and if I had any sense, I wouldn’t, either.”

Her forthright retort made him chuckle. “That’s more like it.” When she blanched and opened her mouth, he added, “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

Her eyes glittered at him. “I wasn’t going to.”

“The hell you weren’t.” When she glanced pointedly down to where his hand still gripped her arm, he released her. “Looks like it’s my turn to apologize. Forgive me for manhandling you. Though I get the impression that everything I do annoys you.”

With a furtive look down the hill to make sure the dogs were still in her line of sight, she said, “That’s not true. You were kind enough not to tell my cousin about our . . . heated exchange when we first met.”

“Was it heated?” he quipped. “I hadn’t noticed.”

That brought a small smile to her lips. “Liar.”

“I tell you what. How about if we pretend that I am not a duke and you are not my mother’s latest pro—” He caught himself before he could say, “project.” “My mother’s pro-tégée. Let’s pretend, for the moment, that we are merely two people with no ulterior motives. I will say what I think, and you will say what you think, and neither of us will apologize.”

“Why?”

“Because your stopping to apologize is taking up far too much of my valuable time,” he said with a smile. “You see? That’s how it’s done. I will be my usual arrogant self, and you will be your usual forthright self, and we will get through this together with a minimum of fuss.”

And perhaps she would reveal some useful secret about her brother. Not to mention that he would get to see the real her more often.

She eyed him askance. “I thought you were supposed to be preparing me for moving in high society. I doubt that in such a case I should be saying whatever comes into my mind.”

“I agree—you should not. Unless it’s to me alone. As long as no one else hears, as long as it’s between us, it will be perfectly acceptable. And it might actually keep you from blurting out the wrong thing elsewhere.”

Coloring very prettily, she said, “So you’ve noticed my tendency to . . . er . . .”

“Blurt? How could I not? It’s the thing I find most refreshing about you.”

“Truly?”

“I swear.” He thrust out his hand. “So, what do you think? Do we have a bargain?”

She hesitated before taking his hand. “I suppose. As long as what we say goes no further.”

“I can’t promise that.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, making her slip her hand from his and her brow cloud over. Hastily he recouped. “Mother is going to want to know everything we said to each other, and I’ll have to tell her something.”

Her face cleared. “Oh. I’m sure that’s true.” She touched one gloved finger to her chin and shot him a mischievous glance. “Very well. You may tell her that my come-out lessons are progressing wonderfully.”

He laughed. “Come-out lessons?”

“That’s how I’ve been thinking of them.” She lifted one eyebrow. “It’s better than thinking of myself as your mother’s latest project.”

He winced. “You caught that.”

“It’s all right,” she said lightly. “Sheridan called me her ‘project’ first.”

“I would apologize, but it would go against our new rules.”

She smirked at him. “Indeed, it would . . . Grey.”

Now that was more like it. When she was like this, teasing him, with her eyes dancing, he could easily imagine her in an evening gown, flirting with some fellow at a ball. Preferably him.

Damn it to hell. Not him.

She turned to look down the hill, and her smirk vanished. “Oh no, the dogs are into the gorse again. I should have been paying better attention. If I don’t keep my eye on them, they get bored. A pox on them!”

The lady cursed, too? Sheridan hadn’t been lying when he’d called her a hoyden. Though when she picked up her skirts and bolted down the hill, it was a woman’s stockinged calves Grey saw flashing white above her half-boots.

And quite a trim pair of calves they were, too, momentarily distracting him from the interesting sight of her trying to coax the dogs out of the gorse bushes. Perhaps he should help.

He strode down the hill. “I’ll get them out.”

“Don’t you dare go in there!” Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “They’ll come out eventually. But the last time they got into the gorse, Mr. MacTilly went in after them and got stuck fast. If you do the same, at the very least you’ll destroy your fancy clothes.”

“Which is precisely why I’m not going in after them.” He pulled a funeral biscuit out of his greatcoat pocket, opened the wrapping, and broke a piece off. Tossing it to the closest dog, he watched as the hound scarfed it up and then barked at him for more.

When he held another piece up, the dog came running out after it. That was all it took for the others to come trotting out, too, and he rewarded them by giving each a piece.

Squatting down, he petted the one whose name he remembered. “There’s a good lad, Hercules.” He looked up at Miss Wolfe, who was gaping at him. “What?”

“How did you . . . Why on earth would you have funeral biscuits in your pocket?”

Because I never want to be trapped without something to eat ever again.

No, that would require revealing too much. So instead he shrugged. “I’d been told you were at the kennels. Since that meant I was about to be around dogs, I figured it was best if I brought treats.”

In other words, he’d come prepared to win her over by winning over her dogs. Was it working?

Perhaps. Because a helpless laugh escaped her. “You’re as much a rascal as they.”

“Probably.” He grinned at her. “What are the names of the other two?”

With a shake of her head, she came up to seize one by the collar. “This is Hero. And the one with the spots is Hector.”

“Whoever named them certainly has a fondness for Greek mythology.”

“It wasn’t me,” she said. “I prefer a good novel, myself.”

“I prefer the Times.” He scratched Hector behind the ears. “What about you, lad? Do you enjoy being saddled with a fancy name like Hector?”

Hector’s answer was to lick his face. Though Grey chuckled, Miss Wolfe frowned.

“Stop that, Hector!” she ordered, and the dog instantly obeyed, though he then licked Grey’s gloved hand. She sighed. “We’ll have to put you lot back on the leashes, if only to keep you from slobbering all over His Grace.”

“Don’t do it on my account,” Grey said as he stood and dusted off his trousers. “A little dog slobber never hurt anyone.”

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically. “All the same, I don’t want to risk them bolting into the gorse again, either. You’ll run out of those biscuits eventually.”

“True.”

She put their leashes on, though Grey noticed that she knelt to do it this time, more’s the pity. Then she tugged at the dogs’ leashes. “Come on, lads, let’s go to the woods.”

But they were hoping for more treats and stood about Grey, sniffing at his greatcoat. Apparently, his presence had thrown their good behavior into disarray.

She scowled at them. “Come along now. You know you like tramping through the woods, you scoundrels.”

“I’m flattered that you noticed, Beatrice,” Grey joked.

Clearly fighting a smile, she said, “Watch it, sir, or I’ll make you take them walking.”

“As long as you lead the way, I wouldn’t mind that a bit,” he countered, and held out his hand for the leashes. “We scoundrels will follow you anywhere.”

She swallowed, her throat undulating in a fashion that made him want to put his lips just there, in the hollow. Now where had that thought come from?

Then she seemed to catch herself, for she went rigid as she held out the leashes. “All right. Then you can walk them. If you think you can keep up.”

When he took the leashes from her, her fingers brushed his accidentally, and an alarming current snapped between them.

But if she felt the same, she showed no sign of it. As she pivoted on her heel and marched off along the edge of the gorse toward what looked like a forest of elms, he hurried after her with the dogs.

“You see, lads,” he drawled, “the way to turn a lady up sweet is to acquiesce to whatever she wants. That’s how you get exactly what you want.”

Her sniff made it clear she’d heard him. So did the very feminine toss of her head and the subtle swing of her hips as if she were aware of him watching her from behind.

Satisfaction coursed through him. Clearly, a day with Beatrice was going to be far more interesting than spending his time cooped up in the study with Sheridan and going over estate documents, as they’d done last evening after the funeral.

And who knew? It might even give him a chance to look at the infamous bridge where Maurice had died, so he could report to Sheridan on that as well. All he had to do was coax her into showing him the dower house.

He began to think that might not be as difficult as he’d feared.