Of Dukes and Deceptions Page 7

  Gibson looked as though he wanted to make another of his ribald comments but, catching sight of the warning in Nick’s expression, he wisely held his tongue.

  In any event Nick was unable to put his plan into action. Alicia had a headache and asked to be excused from the evening’s entertainment. He suspected she was merely steering clear of her uncle and cousin until the furore over Frederick’s rejected proposal died down. But the drawing room was a dull place without her. Maria Woodley launched a fresh assault to engage his attention, and it took all Nick’s ingenuity to avoid being drawn into her plans for an al fresco luncheon. He’d never before met such a tenacious female, and by the time he retired he was in an even worse temper than he’d been the evening before.

  He avoided Maria the next day by paying an impromptu call on Lord Dawson, an old friend. He was surprised to learn that Dawson hadn’t been invited to attend the dinner Mrs. Woodley had arranged for neighbours the following evening. It could almost be construed as a snub, what with Dawson’s elevated social position.

  “Don’t encourage his intimacy,” Dawson admitted when Nick questioned him about it.

  “Any particular reason for that?” Nick swilled the burgundy round his glass before taking an appreciative sip. “I’d have thought the workings of the stud would interest you.”

  Dawson was seated in a comfortable leather chair in front of a roaring fire in his library. He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle, regarding Nick with an assessing gaze.

  “They did when his brother was running it. I was in and out of the place all the time.” Dawson grinned. “His daughter was actively involved, which made visiting that much more pleasurable. She’s deuced attractive, don’t you know, in an unconventional sort of way.” Nick knew only too well but was careful not to be drawn into a discussion on the subject. “I didn’t feel the need to make an appointment like I do now and dropped in whenever I was passing.”

  “You’re not welcome at Ravenswing Manor?” Nick didn’t attempt to hide his surprise. Dawson was hugely knowledgeable about horseflesh, as well as being a cultured and charming addition to any social gathering.

  “This new chap is not quite the thing, if you want the truth.”

  “In what respect?”

  “Well, I don’t think he altogether understands what he’s about. But he won’t take advice from anyone who does.”

  Nick nodded slowly. That rather confirmed what Alicia had implied. “He hasn’t tried to involve you in the business then?”

  “Heavens, no. He’s very tight-lipped about the whole setup.” The gaze which Dawson levelled on Nick from beneath heavily hooded eyes was shrewd. “Surprised you took up his invitation, Nick, in all honesty.”

  “I was bored.”

  Dawson chuckled. “Lady Isabel getting too close?”

  Nick frowned. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know all my damned business?”

  Dawson lifted his shoulders, whether in apology or by way of explanation Nick was unable to decide. “My wife’s sister is here and she was in possession of all the particulars. Everyone knows you’ll need to marry soon and Lady Isabel is quite a catch.”

  “Nothing has been decided yet.” Nick was appalled that his acquaintance should consider the union all but agreed upon. Lady Isabel’s connections must be spreading the rumour, hoping to galvanise him into action. It demonstrated just how poorly they understood his character if they thought to succeed through coercion.

  “It’s about time you got yourself leg-shackled. No time for boredom then.” Dawson pulled a hard-done-by face. “Take it from one who knows.”

  “There’s time enough yet.”

  “If Lady Isabel don’t suit, then my sister-in-law’s a prime piece.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.” Nick shifted his position and accepted a refill from his host. “Any idea why Woodley is so short of blunt, Simon?”

  “Mind my own business about your matrimonial ambitions, in other words.” Dawson chuckled. “Well, that’s me put in my place. All I will say, for what it’s worth, is that Lady Isabel is deuced attractive and you could do a damned sight worse.” He paused to savour his wine. “Anyway, let’s talk about Ravenswing Manor, since you insist. It was purchased by Woodley’s grandfather and is entailed through the male line.”

  “And Woodley’s brother married well after he inherited.”

  “Very well. The Earl of Lancaster’s only daughter, no less. Woodley’s father hadn’t managed the estate well. It was on the brink of going under, until Lancaster got involved. When he realised his new son-in-law had a way with horses, he suggested the stud and helped him get it off the ground.”

  “But the current owner is not similarly blessed. With intuitive horse sense, I mean?”

  “It don’t seem so.”

  “But what I don’t comprehend, Simon, is his need to involve me in the purchase of a new stallion. He must know I’ll only involve myself in return for a hefty share of the profits. Why place that sort of drain on the estate? It must be doing well enough for him to manage the purchase unaided, surely?”

  “It ought to be. But Woodley’s wife and children have no sense of economy. As soon as they moved in, Mrs. Woodley ripped the interior of the place apart, even though there was nothing wrong with it. She threw out most of the furniture and started again. And Woodley indulges those girls of his, particularly the elder. Anything their hearts desire. They spend every season in town.”

  “Well, I’ve never laid eyes on them before.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you have. The girls haven’t been presented because…well, because they are not quite part of our set, if you follow my drift. They don’t have a suitable sponsor. But that doesn’t prevent them from hovering on the periphery of society, hoping to attract the attention of well-heeled beaus.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “I can well imagine.”

  “Taking a town house don’t come cheap. Plus that lad of theirs is a bit of a gamester and plays high. I hear his father has had to settle his debts on several occasions.”

  “Shame Ravenswing Manor didn’t pass to Alicia Woodley. She appears to have inherited her father’s way with horses.”

  Dawson chuckled. “Seen her riding that stallion of hers then, have you?”

  “Indeed I have.” Nick shifted his position to conceal his reaction to the image this reminder conjured up. “I understand she has expectations of an inheritance.”

  “Yes, the residue of her mother’s fortune.”

  Nick raised a brow. She’d indicated that it was a trifling amount, but perhaps she didn’t know the exact sum involved. Either that or she rightly considered it to be nobody else’s business. Still, if she had financial expectations, it would account for Frederick’s sudden interest in her. Nick was more pleased than ever that she’d turned the cove down. He would make sure she wasn’t pressured into accepting him should he renew his suit. Someone had to protect the child’s best interests. She clearly felt a great sense of gratitude toward her family and such considerations might eventually sway her into accepting Frederick. Nick was surprised at the depth of his determination to prevent that from happening.

  Stretching, he glanced at the long clock in the corner of the room and drained his glass. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome, Simon. But before I leave, are you sure there’s nothing more you can tell me about the situation at Ravenswing Manor?”

  Dawson hesitated. “Well, nothing definite. I’ve heard one or two rumours but I hesitate to repeat them. They probably don’t have any foundation in fact.” He spread his hands. “You know how the smallest thing gets exaggerated in the retelling.”

  “Yes, but even so, it might help me to decide if I want to invest. And you know you can depend upon my discretion.”

  “Very well.”

  Dawson spent the next ten minutes relating all he’d heard. The information, although rumour and speculation, so coincided with the suspicious thoughts running through Nick’s head that he was almost certai
n they must be true. The mulling over of this information between the two gentlemen took another half an hour, and by the time Nick was ready to take his leave, the sky had clouded over.

  “Looks like we’re in for a storm, Nick,” Dawson said. “Sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

  “No, I’d best get back. Is there a shorter way?”

  “Yes, there’s a back road to the estate. Take the left-hand fork at the end of my drive and you’ll come directly upon it.”

  His caped driving coat pulled tightly about him and his hat low on his head, Nick set off at a brisk canter. He was less than halfway to Ravenswing Manor when the heavens opened and, had it not been for his heavy coat, he would have been drenched in seconds. He slowed his pace and patted the neck of his sodden mount.

  “I can see an outbuilding just ahead,” he told the horse. “We’ll take shelter there until the rain stops.”

  But before he’d even reached the sanctity of the barn in question, he encountered an impediment.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” Nick remarked to no one in particular.

  He frowned. A very familiar female form, drenched to the skin, was seeking to remove a cob and the gig it was harnessed to from a muddy rut. Matilda appeared to be co-operating for once, clearly taking exception to getting soaked if she didn’t. But even the force of her considerable bulk was insufficient to free the conveyance.

  Nick dismounted and went to Alicia’s assistance. She raised a brow when she eventually noticed his presence but made no comment upon it.

  “When I give the word,” he said, applying his shoulder to the rear of the gig, “lead Matilda forward.”

  The wheels spun, covering Nick in mud but refusing to grip the road’s surface. It took three attempts before the vehicle regained firm ground.

  “Quick,” Nick said, “let’s head for that barn over yonder before we get even wetter than we already are.”

  “Or muddier.” She stifled a giggle as her eyes ran down the length of him.

  “You’re welcome,” he muttered beneath his breath, rolling his eyes. Forgetting to thank him appeared to be a failing of hers.

  The horses required little persuasion to take shelter beneath the barn’s dilapidated roof. It leaked in several places but at least afforded them some protection from the torrential rain and biting wind. Nick unharnessed Matilda, removed his own horse’s saddle and rubbed them down with handfuls of straw to extract the worst of the water from their coats. Alicia ignored his directive to find somewhere warmer to wait out the storm. She stood to one side and was observing him instead.

  “There.” He threw the last handful of soggy straw aside and found some fresh hay, which he placed before the horses. “Now, let’s attend to ourselves before we catch our deaths.” He led the way farther inside. “What is this place?”

  “The area’s used for grazing in the autumn. We keep hay and straw here when it’s been harvested. It saves carting it all the way back to the main buildings.”

  “I thought as much.” Nick looked about him at the neatly piled hay, kept under the roof parts which didn’t leak. The straw was stacked just as neatly on the opposite side.

  “Thank you.”

  Alicia’s almost grudging acknowledgement of his assistance brought his attention back to her. She’d seated herself on the edge of the hay and was trembling with cold. He was seized with an overwhelming desire to rub her body dry as well, except he’d take infinitely more care, and pleasure, from making her comfortable. Since that wasn’t possible, not even for him, he’d have to devise another means to keep them both warm until the storm abated.

  Something inside him changed as his eyes lingered on her profile. She steadfastly refused to look in his direction, making it impossible for him to interpret her thoughts. Was she apprehensive about being here alone with him? Did she sense the tension in the atmosphere between them? Fate had provided him with a perfect opportunity to win his wager with Gibson. Instinct told him that she possessed a violently passionate nature, and once released it would quickly dispel any doubts she might otherwise entertain. That being the case, Nick wondered why he was even hesitating to exploit the situation.

  “Here.” He shrugged out of his driving coat and handed it to her. “It’s still perfectly dry on the inside.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t. You’ll get cold yourself without it.”

  “Nonsense, your situation is more perilous. You’ll freeze to death if you don’t get warm.” He wrapped the coat round her shoulders.

  It swamped her, making her appear endearingly vulnerable. He sat beside her, still relatively warm in his coat and waistcoat, which had been protected from the elements by his driving coat. Alicia’s teeth were still chattering.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I believe you’d be warmer if you removed your gown. Unless I mistake the matter, it’s quite soaked through.”

  She threw a scornful glance his way. “I hardly think that would be seemly.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.” He moved closer to her, until their bodies were touching. “In which case we must think of another way to ward off the cold.” He pretended to consider their dilemma. “How would horses manage it?”

  “They would huddle together and—”

  Her words trailed off and she blushed a fiery shade of red.

  “Quite so. They’d have the sense to set aside their differences and benefit from their close proximity to one another, sharing what bodily warmth they still possessed.” Nick permitted his grin to widen. “Clever creatures are horses, and we could do worse than follow their example.”

  “I’ve never heard such a ridiculous suggestion in my entire life. Do you put so little stock by my reputation, sir?”

  “I don’t think it’s your reputation that concerns you. Perhaps it’s more a case of your cousin Frederick objecting?”

  She glared of him. “What do you know about that?’

  Nick shrugged. “Rumours abound in the servants’ hall, so my man would have it.”

  “Eavesdropping and then listening to servants’ gossip all in the same day, Your Grace?” She wrinkled her pert little nose in distaste but her attempt at moral superiority merely caused Nick to chuckle.

  “Absolutely! Servants’ gossip is the only reliable way to learn what’s happening in an establishment. Surely you know that?”

  “Be that as it may, my relationship with my cousin is none of your concern.”

  “I understand you rejected his suit,” Nick said gently. “I congratulate you on your foresight, even if by recognising your cousin’s weaknesses you’ve passed up the opportunity to be mistress of your childhood home.” His eyes lingered on her profile and his voice softened. “In spite of your feelings for your cousin, or lack of them, it must have taken a deal of courage to resist such an offer.”

  “I didn’t even stop to consider the material benefits when rejecting my cousin,” she said, staring off into the distance. “He has no feelings for me.”

  “Then why did he make the offer?”

  “He was showing a rare sensitivity because he didn’t care to think of me living alone when I come into my inheritance.” She tossed her head. “But it won’t serve. I don’t intend to marry, even to secure my own comfort. I’ll be quite content to live out my days alone in the village.”

  “In that case, I feel we should return to our conversation about animal instincts.”

  He ran his index finger idly down the length of her arm. It was covered by the thickness of his greatcoat, but he still sensed her shiver violently in response to his touch. He didn’t think that was because she was still cold and allowed a predatory smile to grace his lips. Never had a storm arrived at a more timely moment. It was as though the elements had conspired to create this opportunity. The hay looked soft and warm and altogether too inviting. Its sweet aroma filled the barn. Nick breathed it in, anticipating the moment when he’d toss this disrespectful wench into the middle of it in a flurry of pettico
ats and half-hearted protests.

  Perhaps then images of her would no longer fill his head. Once his mind was clear of that delightful distraction, he’d be able to think more coherently about his reasons for being at Ravenswing Manor. And figure out the nature of the scam her uncle was attempting to perpetuate.

  “You know all about matters that occur in the covering barn,” he said in a persuasive whisper, his fingers still tracing the length of her arm. “But don’t you ever stop to consider how such matters are conducted between a man and woman?”

  Nick half expected her to protest at the turn their conversation had taken. Most young ladies would pretend to be outraged, simply because that reaction was expected of them, even if they privately hankered to indulge their curiosity. He wasn’t surprised to discover that this one had little time for convention and tackled the subject head-on.

  “Indeed I do know what occurs in the covering barn.” She shuddered. “The couplings are very brutal and clinically achieved. I’ve never been able to understand why a lady would willingly put herself in that position.”

  Nick chuckled. “Oh, I think you can.” Her face was flaming with embarrassment. He cupped her cheek gently in the palm of his hand. It was evident that she wanted to wrench her head away but seemed transfixed. “You feel it now, although you probably don’t recognise your feelings for what they actually are.” He spoke in the low, hypnotic tone which had never failed him in the past. “Why do you think the mares only accept the stallion’s advances when they’re feeling receptive?”

  “I…I really c-couldn’t say.”

  “Yes, you could. I didn’t think you lacked spirit.”

  “No, really, I—”

  “You know the answer because you’re feeling receptive now, Alicia, even though you wish it could be otherwise.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, sir.”