Page 6 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

‘My engagements can always be rearranged.’

He spoke with such assuredness she immediately imagined the docket for Parliament being altered at his whim.

‘I believe I am otherwise engaged,’ she said. Dash it, she sounded missish, instead of chilly as she had intended.

He raised a brow. ‘You haven’t received the invitation yet, so how can you know?’ He bowed and, having handed her horse’s reins to Jack, rode off, no doubt with every expectation she would accept his invitation when it arrived.

Damn his arrogance.

She stopped on the doorstep staring at the footman who had opened the door. What a strange turn of events. What on earth was this duke about?

‘Milady?’ the footman said.

‘What? Oh, yes. I beg your pardon.’

She stepped inside.

Perhaps she would accept the invitation after all.

Was he mad? Assailed with the sort of doubt he hadn’t experienced since he was at school, Xavier stood in the foyer of the small manor house he owned halfway between Mayfair and Hampton Court.

A strategically placed home by way of one of his ancestors to be at the ready for any royal command.

It was one of many estates owned by the duchy, and it was here he trained his racehorses because of its closeness to Ascot.

What the devil was he doing? Here he was, supposedly pursuing this Season’s crop of eligible debutantes, girls who would accept a proposal in a heartbeat, and now for some reason inviting a most unsuitable woman to ride out at one of his estates.

Be honest.

He had always been honest with himself—why change now?

Very well. He would admit that the widow fascinated him far more than the debutantes.

At least so far. Fascinated, but not in a good way.

She caused him to want to do things that under normal circumstances he would reject without a moment’s thought as being ridiculous. Foolish. Even reckless.

He was never reckless.

Watching her wild gallop along Rotten Row the other day had made him want to gallop alongside her, to feel the wind in his face, to feel—free. She looked like she was enjoying herself, despite her obvious difficulty controlling her ungainly animal.

He tried to recall the last time he had enjoyed a good gallop for the pure joy of it.

One exercised one’s horse and one’s self when in town.

It was a duty, not a pleasure. It was done with the intention of meeting like-minded men and, more often than not, he had used much of the time discussing parliamentary business, not riding.

There was nothing enjoyable about it.

He preferred another form of exercise to keep his body fit.

And not only that, sparring at the gymnasium allowed him to let off steam.

Something a man with his responsibilities needed from time to time.

And it was better than letting his temper get the better of him and engaging in fisticuffs with his peers when they angered him.

He’d discovered that at school when he’d been about fifteen.

He’d fought a couple of boys who had been bullying a weaker lad.

He’d stepped in and fought them. And been beaten badly.

But in the aftermath, some of the anger and confusion he’d been feeling about his father’s death had faded beneath the pain of his bruises.

It had been a welcome relief.

The master who had separated them had suggested that if Xavier wanted to fight, he should take up boxing. And so he had.

Perhaps the Countess had been similarly afflicted, that day in Hyde Park. Maybe she too needed a release for anger or frustration. Nevertheless, it had been his duty to put a stop to the Countess’s hoydenish behaviour before she ruined her reputation or suffered a terrible accident. Hadn’t it?

Of course it had. It was the duty of any gentleman to protect the life and reputation of any lady. Even if she did not seem to give it a second’s thought.

That was the reason he had invited her here today, was it not? To allow her to enjoy a day of riding, without fear of censure.

Which she seemed to invite wherever she went.

Lady Cowper had whispered just before she introduced him to the Countess, that she had been seen shopping in Bond Street after midday with only a maid to carry her parcels .

Shocking! It was time someone took the lady in hand or she would be utterly ruined in the eyes of Society.

Her aunt should know better, Lady Cowper had said.

Xavier had the feeling that the aunt had little influence over the headstrong young woman.

Someone needed to explain the rules to her. In an avuncular manner, of course. Kindly but firmly, the way his Uncle Tom had explained everything to him.

This was why he had decided that an invitation to Woodburn House would be the perfect opportunity to speak privately, with only her and her aunt present.

Though why he had decided he should be the one to impart the rules, he wasn’t quite certain, even if it had seemed to be a good idea at the time.

Fortunately, the day he had chosen had turned out to be a bright spring day, perfect for what he had planned.

He loved this house. He rarely shared it with anyone. It was one of the few places he really felt comfortable. Perhaps because it was one of the last places he recalled his real mother and father spending time together, and the memory was a happy one.

For some odd reason, he wanted the Countess to like it.

His stable master had arranged for two ladies’ mounts to be ready at the appointed time, and his housekeeper would provide a collation fit for a queen after their expedition.

The sound of wheels on the gravel drive at the exact moment his guests were expected to arrive, brought a smile to his lips. His coachman was nothing if he was not punctual.

He nodded to the footman who opened the front door and went outside to greet his guests.

Like a well-oiled machine, his household slipped into motion—a groom ran out to take the horses’ heads and another to let down the carriage steps.

As orderly as clockwork.

Exactly the way he liked it.

To his surprise, the younger woman, the Countess, alighted first. She looked magnificent in her riding dress. The same one he had admired in Hyde Park. It was elegant and, though bright, the colour suited her to perfection.

He stepped forward to greet her, glancing into the carriage, expecting the other lady to emerge—

What the devil! ‘Where is your aunt?’

The Countess gave him a mischievous smile. ‘My aunt is indisposed.’

Taken aback, for a moment he could only stare at her. ‘Then you should have sent a message to postpone the engagement.’

She glanced around at the house, at him, at the sky. Finally back to him. ‘And waste such a beautiful day, when it has rained for weeks, and after all the trouble you have gone to? Certainly not.’

Damn him for an idiot. Because he wasn’t exactly unhappy at the absence of the woman’s aunt.

He should put her back in his carriage and send her on her way .

And yet…

Perhaps this would be a perfect opportunity to school her in the way of the ton .

Perhaps she would listen to him, if she would not listen to her aunt regarding the niceties of London Society.

No doubt she had been misled into thinking that widows were not bound by the same strictures that applied to unmarried women and wives.

Perhaps she did not realise that behaviours such as hers would eventually lead to her being thought most dreadfully fast.

Beyond redemption.

But the laughter in her eyes—those lively dark brown eyes with a golden sunburst at the centre that you only saw close up—was a worry.

Because that twinkle gave him the feeling that she knew exactly what she was about.

‘So—do we ride out? Or not?’ she asked.

There was an element of dare in her voice.

A challenge.

‘We ride out,’ he said grimly.

She laughed. That same chuckle he’d heard on the night that they’d met, a light amused sound emanating from the back of her throat.

He wanted to smile back but he frowned instead. No point in encouraging the reckless female. ‘Something amuses you?’

‘You look as if you are headed for the gallows. ’

Did he indeed.

‘You should not have come without a companion,’ he said repressively.

‘Why? Are you unable to keep the line?’

The question took him aback. ‘I am a gentleman, madam.’

‘Then there is nothing to worry about. No one would assume such a strait-laced gentleman as yourself would get up to mischief. Therefore I see no reason to concern myself with such nonsense.’

Her words irritated him for some reason. He was perfectly capable of ‘getting up to mischief.’ He simply did not choose to do so. His position made it beneath him.

And nor was he a Johnny Raw. He knew better than to spend the day alone with an unmarried lady. That problem he could easily solve.

‘The stables are this way. Unless you need to freshen up after your journey.’

‘Three miles is hardly a journey,’ she said, smiling. ‘Let us be off. I haven’t ridden out in the country for weeks and weeks. I cannot wait. I hope you have a decent mount for me and not some sluggard that likes to dawdle.’

He gritted his teeth. He was known for the quality of his horseflesh.

‘I do not think you will be disappointed.’ He took her arm and escorted her around to the stables.

As they entered the courtyard in front of the stable block a few yards from the main house, two grooms emerged from the barn with three of the most beautiful animals Barbara had ever seen.

Two with ladies’ saddles and one for riding astride.

‘We will not require Galahad, Paul,’ the Duke said. ‘One of our guests has not arrived.’

The groom called to a lad who took the smallest of the three horses back inside.

Another man took the other with a side-saddle to a mounting block.

‘This is Kemp, my stable master and Lucky Lady.’

‘Mr Kemp,’ Barbara said, and greeted her horse with a stroke of her nose. ‘She is lovely.’

‘I am glad you think so,’ the Duke said in his usual grim tones. ‘Allow me to assist you.’