The Duke's Legacy Read online

  She stirred in his arms, wound her arms around his neck and with a soft little sigh leaned her body into his. Sebastian’s sense of triumph was out of all proportion to the scale of his victory. Rational thought once again left him and he set to work doing what he’d been told he excelled at. His swirling tongue lazily probed the recesses of her mouth as he took his time to become familiar with the taste of her.

  The desire that raged through him caused Sebastian to break the kiss before it had really started. He absolutely shouldn’t be doing this and if he didn’t stop now, he was unsure if he would be able to.

  “What am I to do with you, Lady Abigail?” he asked softly.

  She made no answer, nor had he expected her to, but the expression in her glowing eyes spoke volumes. Sebastian leaned his back against the tree which had so inconveniently dislodged Abbey from her saddle, creating a situation he ought to have avoided like the plague. Never one to waste time on remorse, Sebastian gave in to temptation, pulled her more closely against him and forced his hands to remain at her waist as he kissed her again.

  ***

  Abbey felt the full force of his lips as they fused with hers, causing her pulse to quicken and her breath to come out in uneven gasps. Lord Denver was no longer treating her as a child and her body was on fire as a consequence. She was curious to know what might happen next, even if it would be unwise to allow matters to develop. He was devastatingly attractive, but was also dangerous and knew how to indulge in flirtations without engaging his emotions.

  She did not.

  Glorious though the fizzing was, it couldn’t go on…well, not for much longer anyway. Her head was spinning, but not because she’d fallen from her horse. She desperately gulped air from the mouth that covered hers, convinced he must be able to hear the thud of her heart as it crashed its irregular beat against her ribs. Presumably it was gauche to feel so aroused, but she simply didn’t care. Just as with the hunting, she gave herself up completely to the experience because it was new, exciting, intriguing…and forbidden.

  His tongue darted inside her mouth on a fresh sortie, forcing her lips apart, demanding and easily receiving her complete capitulation. Too easily, surely? Whatever must he think of her? He deepened the kiss, held her a little tighter and all thoughts of propriety, duty and responsibility vacated her mind. Instead a tide of surging pleasure coursed through her, transporting her to a place beyond rationality.

  Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it stopped. Abbey bit her lip to prevent herself from protesting. A moment ago she had definitely wanted him to stop—she was almost certain she had. Now she felt affronted because he had done so without her permission. She struggled out of his embrace, hot with embarrassment, and turned her back on him as she endeavoured to regain her composure.

  “I’ve upset you,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I apologise. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Abbey, trembling with a combination of desire and confusion, shook his hand off. “What is that you want of me?” she asked, keeping her back turned towards him so he wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes.

  “It was wrong of me—”

  “One moment you’re treating me as though I’m a child. The next you are…well, you’re making advances.” Anger replaced her confusion and she swirled around, no longer caring if he saw how distressed she was. “Perhaps it’s true what everyone says about you.”

  “That rather depends upon what they say.”

  “They say you…well, that you have mistresses all over the place and you are anxious to leave here because you have a lady waiting for you at your hunting box.”

  He quirked a brow. “And yet I stopped here with the deliberate intention of helping you. Or perhaps you think I mean to seduce you?”

  “No, of course not!” She moved away from him. “Presumably you’re bored, but I won’t be your play thing. I absolutely will not!”

  “I’m not surprised you have such a poor opinion of me. It shows how desperate you must have been to seek my help anyway,” he said softly. “And now I’ve offended you.”

  “I’m not offended.” She tossed her head, willing the tears not to fall and spoil her display of dignity. “We ought to get back.”

  “You have twigs in your hair,” he said.

  “Have I?”

  When he moved closer and extracted them, Abbey froze with indecision. She didn’t want him to touch her—not even her hair—but couldn’t return home decorated with twigs. She looked away until he had tidied her to his satisfaction. Then his thumb gently wiped away a rebellious fat tear that had slipped past her guard. Trust him to notice!

  “There, that’s better.” His voice took on a brisk edge. “Come, we should get back before the snow starts.”

  The horses had wandered to graze on a patch of grass close by. He caught them, helped her into her saddle, mounted Warrior and fell into step beside her. Abbey was still struggling to make sense of what had just happened. It was clear Lord Denver would offer no further explanation and so she tried to put the incident behind her. She still needed his help and it would be better not to frighten him off with missish displays of outrage.

  “You ought to be aware that due to the grossest misfortune our presence at the chase was observed by Evans,” he said.

  “Oh botheration!” Abbey’s hand flew to a face. “I thought you said we would remain undetected at the back of the field.”

  “And so we would have done, had Evans not disobliged us by falling at that hawthorn hedge and then looking up just as we were clearing it.”

  “I’ll be for it now,” she said gloomily.

  “That’s why I gave you advance warning. Place the blame at my door and convince them I persuaded you to join the chase against your better judgement. They will have no difficulty in believing you.”

  “Since you speak nothing less than the truth that is obviously what I shall tell them.”

  He sent her an annoyingly smug smile. “Your uncle will be angry at first, I dare say, but he’ll get over it.”

  “Perhaps Lord Evans won’t tell him,” she said without much conviction.

  “We both know he will.”

  “I expect my uncle will be more concerned that I rode out with you unescorted than anything else.”

  “Yes, but no one else need be privy to that information so no lasting harm has been done to your reputation. Once your uncle recovers from his annoyance, he won’t wish it to be known. Besides, this is hardly the ton and the rules are less stringent in the country.”

  “Lord Evans knows,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but it wouldn’t suit his purpose to broadcast the fact. As to your uncle, apart from evicting me from the house and ordering you never to speak to me again, what else can he do?”

  Insist that you marry me. Please make him insist that!

  Lord Denver’s apparent unconcern at the prospect of being deprived of her company caused a dull ache to take up residence in her breast and her temper to bubble over.

  “If they do that,” she said, treating him to a quelling glance, “then how are we supposed to discover who wants to kill me?”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Really, the man was insufferable. She lifted her chin as they rode into the stable yard and tried for a lofty expression. “You’re far too sure of yourself, my lord.”

  “Sebastian,” he whispered in her ear as he dismounted, placed his hands on her waist and lifted her to the ground. “My friends call me Sebastian.”

  “We’re not friends, Lord Denver.”

  “Then what are we?”

  “Temporary allies?”

  He laughed. “Is that what they’re calling it this week?”

  The first fat snowflakes fell as they made their way towards the house.

  “By the time the others return the snow will be at least two inches thick,” he said.

  “That will be convenient,
” Abbey replied, smiling in spite of herself. “Are you even able to bend the weather conditions to suit your purpose?”

  Sebastian’s grin was disgustingly wayward. “I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you.”

  “Liar! You know very well what I mean.” The train of her riding habit, heavy with mud, was slow to follow her movements and she almost tripped over it when it tangled with her feet. With a squeal of irritation she swung it over her arm, causing wet mud to fly in Sebastian’s direction. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, only partially successful in quelling her laughter.

  He shrugged impossibly broad shoulders. “Accidents happen.”

  “However, as I was saying, if the weather closes in and makes the roads impassable, you will be unable to leave even if Mr. Hodges’s condition should happen to improve. That will provide you with an excellent excuse to remain with us, although I expect your paramour will be quite out of charity with you for keeping her waiting.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Oh, so there is…” Abbey could have kicked herself for re-instigating a subject she shouldn’t have raised in the first place.

  “Yes?” He fixed her with an expression of innocent enquiry.

  “Nothing,” she snapped, aware of her face blazing with embarrassment.

  “Hodges will be gratified if the weather comes to his aid,” he said, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “He will be able to make a remarkable recovery and mingle with your guests’ retainers in the servants’ hall. You would be amazed how much information is to be gleaned from such a source, if one knows the right questions to ask.”

  “I dare say.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot, Hodges asked me to send his grateful thanks for the chicken pie your maid managed to smuggle up to him last night.” Sebastian flashed a wicked grin that caused her insides to melt. “And for the gift of the maid herself, for that matter.”

  “Sally?” Abbey furled her brow. “I hope she didn’t offend Mr. Hodges.”

  Sebastian winked at her. “I believe she gave complete satisfaction.”

  “That’s good. She’s the only person I have taken into my confidence regarding your true reasons for being here.” Sebastian still seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. Had she somehow misunderstood the situation? Perdition, playing mind games with Lord Denver was deuced difficult. “Since she accompanied me to your house, and to my meeting with you in the park, I could scarce do anything less.”

  “I’m sure she’s devoted to you and entirely trustworthy.”

  “I believe she is.”

  “Good. Hodges also thanks you for the substantial breakfast Sally provided him with this morning.”

  “Breakfast?” She shook her head. “I didn’t send him anything to eat.”

  Sebastian laughed. “I wasn’t referring to food.”

  Entering the house by a side door, the opportunity to ask him what he meant was lost to her. She took advantage of the deserted hallway to scamper up the stairs and change her muddy attire. Clean and freshly gowned, she then joined her aunt and cousin, exchanging covert glances of sympathy with Bea as her aunt continued to bewail the deterioration in the weather. Anticipating the ructions to come when her presence at the hunt was revealed, Abbey sought to ingratiate herself with her aunt by paying particular attention to her unending lamentations about the conditions under foot and the adverse effect they would have on the preparation for the wedding.

  “I knew we should have delayed and made it a spring wedding,” she bemoaned so often that even Abbey, determined to be on her best behaviour, wanted to scream.

  “Calm yourself, Aunt,” Abbey said, patting her hand. “You and I both know nothing will stop the guests attending the wedding of the season, especially not something as insignificant as a little snow. Besides, there are weeks to go yet.”

  “Of course you’re right, Abbey dear. What a comfort you are to me.” Aunt Constance clutched Abbey’s proffered arm as they walked slowly from the room, her jowls wobbling as she shook her head over the dismal weather conditions. “And how have you occupied your time this morning, my love?”

  Abbey was able to avoid answering the question she had been dreading by the arrival of Sebastian himself at the door to the dining-room. He bowed to her aunt and, with the suggestion of a wink in Abbey’s direction, begged permission to escort her into luncheon.

  After the meal Aunt Constance retired to her chamber and Bea went in search of her sketch book. Abbey and Sebastian were once again alone, which was precisely the situation she had hoped to avoid. On the one occasion she could do with Mr. Graves’s company, he had taken himself off for the day to visit a local acquaintance.

  Abbey had been hot with embarrassment since arriving home and recalling the immature manner in which she had reacted to Sebastian’s kiss. No wonder he looked upon her as a child. Gentlemen stealing kisses wasn’t such a very iniquitous crime, even if in this instance it had been a spur of the moment decision born out of boredom.

  “I should find some occupation, Lord Denver,” she said, avoiding his eye.

  “Sebastian,” he reminded her as they traversed the hall together. “Say it. I want to hear my name pass your lips.”

  “Certainly not. Let me go,” she hissed, attempting to free herself from the arm that had snaked its way around her waist. It was like a band of steel and her efforts had no discernible effect.

  “Say it and then I’ll release you.”

  “No!”

  His only response was to tighten the arm that held her and to cock a challenging brow.

  “Oh, this is farcical.” She was conscious of heat again rising to her cheeks. “Sebastian,” she muttered, shooting him a withering glare. “There, are you satisfied now?”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He removed his arm and it took considerable self-control for Abbey not to ask him to replace it. It had made her feel safe and protected. She gave herself a mental dressing down, told herself not to be such a silly goose and returned her attention to what he was saying to her. “Now then, what shall we do this afternoon?”

  “I’m not sure we should do anything together. I’m already in enough trouble as it is, thanks to you.”

  “I’m a guest in your house so it’s your responsibility to keep me entertained.” He smiled that annoyingly smug smile of his. “Consider it practise for when you’re married to Lord Evans and have to entertain his guests.”

  “I’m not engaged to Lord Evans.”

  “No, but didn’t you tell me that you thought he would make a suitable husband?”

  That was before I met you.

  Abbey narrowed her eyes at him. “Should you not be searching for clues, or whatever it is you do in order to solve mysteries?”

  “Not possible until the rest of the party return from their day’s sport. It’s their behaviour towards you that I most particularly wish to study. Besides, you’ll be gratified to learn that Hodges has already made a remarkable recovery and is even now consorting with the other servants. I’d wager half my fortune that he will uncover something to interest us before the end of the day.” This time the wretched man’s smile was so meltingly intimate that Abbey’s insides melted right along with it. “And so, you see, I’m entirely at your disposal.”

  “Lucky me,” she muttered.

  They passed the open door to the billiards room. “Do you play billiards?” he asked.

  “No, it’s a game for the gentlemen.”

  “That’s where you are quite wrong.” He steered her into the room and closed the door behind them. “Several ladies of my acquaintance are very proficient players.”

  She offered him another withering glare. “Given the type of ladies you consort with, I don’t doubt it.”

  The implied insult bounced harmlessly off his amused expression. “You’ve taken to the hunting field for the first time today. Why not continue with your rebellious turn and try your hand at another new game?”

  At least he ha
d the tact not to refer to the second new game she had tried that day, but from the dangerous glint in his eye it was clear he was thinking about it.

  “I have better things to do with my time,” she told him, biting at her lip with indecision, sorely tempted.

  “What things? Embroidery, sketching, practising your performance at the pianoforte?”

  “Now you’re just being ungentlemanly, highlighting my lack of accomplishments.” She turned away from him but his hand brushing across her shoulder forced her to turn back and face him again.

  “Not at all,” he said softly. “That you don’t follow the throng and pursue all the usual feminine pass times is a refreshing change.”

  “What makes you suppose I want to play billiards?”

  His looked disgustingly sure of himself. “You want to,” he said.

  Was she that easy to read? Regardless, the temptation to transgress, to spend a little more time in the presence of this accomplished roué, was compelling. Making up her mind, she turned to face him and nodded.

  “Very well, what must I do?”

  He sent her a look that suggested she could have phrased her question more tactfully. “What do you know about the rudiments of the game?”

  Upon receiving her confession that she knew little or nothing, Sebastian succinctly outlined the aims while setting up the balls.

  “The skill lies in striking the cue ball crisply, exactly in its centre, while lining one’s shot up with the pocket one intends to sink the ball into. The key is to hold one’s cue correctly. Like this.” He stuck the cue ball dead centre, sending a red shooting smartly into the pocket opposite. “Now you try.” He ushered her to the side of the table and handed her his cue. “First decide which ball you intend to pot.”

  “That one over there.” She pointed out what looked like an easy shot.

  “Good choice. Now then, you hold the cue by sliding it between your thumb and index finger, making a groove in your hand for it to rest upon.” She experimented and earned a nod of approval from Sebastian. “That’s right, but it’s vital to look straight down the cue, in the direction you intend to send the ball.”