Page 8 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

M ore pleased that he should have been with her delighted response, Xavier turned to the groom and dismissed him. He’d brought him along in case she preferred not to use the track and wanted to ride across country instead.

They joined the group at the rail. ‘Allow me to introduce Mrs Barker. My housekeeper.’

The woman dipped a curtsey. ‘My lady.’

He nodded at Kemp to show his approval. Mrs Barker was the best person he could have asked to serve in place of a chaperone.

‘Do you ride in races?’ the Countess asked as they made their way through the gate his stable master was holding open.

‘No.’ It was too dangerous. He was the last of his line. Should an accident happen to him, the title would go into abeyance.

She nodded in a way that said she wasn’t surprised, and it annoyed him.

‘I rode them when I was younger but now I am too heavy.’ Damn it. Why did he feel the need to explain? Should he also tell her, like some schoolboy eager to please, that she was the only woman he had ever invited to ride on the track? Not likely.

‘Oh, indeed. I see what you mean,’ she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. ‘I have heard other ladies refer to you as enormous.’

The comment, said with such sly innuendo, caused his body to tighten, and it was only with effort he forced it back under control. He could not recall when a few well-chosen words by a woman had had such an effect on him. And he could not help but wonder at her purpose.

Well, if she thought to catch herself a duke, she was out of luck.

They entered the track. ‘The ground is soft because of the rain. It will be slow going,’ he said. ‘We will start at a trot, move to a canter, then gallop the last furlong. You will see the marker.’

She moved easily into the trot, and he was pleased to see that the mare she rode was responding beautifully and moved into a nice easy canter when asked. His own horse followed suit.

They rode side by side, and when she glanced over at him, her eyes were alight with pleasure and her cheeks reddened by the wind. Small wayward curls escaped from beneath her hat.

His heart picked up speed at the sight of such beauty.

Nonsense. She was not at all the type of woman he preferred. He liked small blonde females with perfect manners, the sort who would never be caught dead hurtling around a race track.

At the last marker, she urged the mare into a gallop. His larger gelding kept up easily, but he remained a fraction behind. He did not want her to think he was trying to beat her to the finish line. Therein lay the path to accidents.

At the finish line they slowed and walked the horses a few yards down the track.

She half turned in her saddle to look back at him. ‘That was splendid. I think I should like to be a jockey.’

His jaw dropped. ‘A jockey?’ He came alongside her. ‘Ladies do not become jockeys.’

She laughed. ‘In whose opinion?’

About to say Everyone’s , he bit his tongue. She was goading him.

‘I doubt you would find an owner willing to hire a woman.’

She made a face that showed what she thought of such owners.

He wanted to laugh. The urge shocked him more than her idea of becoming a jockey. He quelled his amusement. ‘We weren’t racing, you know.’

‘I know,’ she said airily. ‘You would have beaten me easily, but this little lady was champing at the bit to go faster. Do you race her?’

‘Not any more. She earned her retirement at Newmarket a few years ago and has had three really nice foals since then, of whom I expect great things. The latest is a yearling. If you want to see him.’

‘Oh, I would love to.’

Her interest in what was not just a hobby for him, but a life’s work in the making, pleased him. Of course, it was likely all a sham. Lots of people feigned interest in him to curry favour because he was a duke.

And if he thought she wasn’t one of those, he was likely acting like an idiot.

‘Then we shall.’

They rode back to those waiting by the gate. The Countess, once dismounted, took a few minutes to see that her horse was comfortable and to pet it before the grooms took both mounts in charge and led them back to the stables for a good rub down.

‘The colts and fillies are in the lower meadow this week. I hope you don’t mind a bit of a walk.

’ He guided the Countess in the opposite direction to the house.

He hadn’t planned for this, but he was pleased to see that the housekeeper fell in behind them.

While it wasn’t an ideal arrangement—her aunt would have been the more appropriate chaperone—it did protect him from being accused of anything untoward.

‘Not at all. Having been cooped up in London these past few weeks, I am delighted to get some exercise.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I am not sure I can say the same about your housekeeper.’

Mrs Barker was indeed trudging along behind them with an expression of misery.

‘Unfortunately, she is the only woman in my household available to serve as a chaperone, in the absence of your aunt. I am sure she would much rather be preparing for our luncheon than traipsing out to the fields.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I did not…’

‘You did not what? Did not think I would need to provide an alternate? Or you did not think I would care to protect your reputation?’

Her already pink cheeks darkened to rose. ‘I did not think you would be so unkind as to ask such an elderly woman to accompany us. A groom would do just as well.’

‘You must think me a Johnny Raw, madam, if you think I would for one moment assume a groom would do.’

She shot him an angry look. ‘I find I do not care to see your yearlings. Let us return to the house.’

‘As you wish.’

They turned about and walked back the way they had come. He could not help but notice the relief on Mrs Barker’s face as they informed her of their intentions.

To say he was surprised that the Countess would have asked him to turn back would have been an understatement. He had not expected her to give a damn about the servant.

But by doing so, she had managed to put him in the wrong, which had likely been her intention.

Blast the woman.

And he was disappointed also, he realised.

He had wanted to show off his horses.

An exceedingly youthful maid was waiting to assist Barbara in the room the housekeeper had prepared for her and her aunt during their visit.

But apart from removing her hat and making use of the necessary, Barbara was in little need of assistance. She did pin up the tendrils of hair that had escaped during her ride before heading downstairs to the breakfast room for luncheon.

The house, which had looked rather modest from the outside, was sumptuously decorated and carpeted both in the halls and the breakfast room.

It had bright chintz wallpaper and large windows overlooking an expanse of lawn.

The table was set for two, seated so they could each look out on the vista beyond a set of double French doors.

Standing by the window looking out, Derbridge, with his prominent nose and high forehead, looked every inch the Duke and not one to be trifled with. He was—exceedingly handsome in a stern kind of way.

He was also exceedingly arrogant, she forced herself to remember.

‘What a delightful prospect to be sure,’ she said.

He swung around with a quizzical expression as if he sensed her underlying meaning. He was no fool, this duke, and she would be wise to remember it.

‘Countess,’ he said and bowed. ‘I have to admit a fondness for this property and the countryside hereabouts.’

‘The view is lovely. I had forgotten how beautiful the English countryside can be—when it is not raining.’

‘You have been away a long time?’ he asked, coming to take her arm and escort her to the table.

A footman she had not noticed stepped from the corner to pull out her seat.

It seems even in this small house the Duke needed to stand on ceremony.

A way of reminding everyone of his importance, she supposed.

Helmut, her second husband, had been the same, snapping his fingers at servants if they were too slow, demanding instant attention no matter the hour.

She smiled her thanks at the footman and sat down.

‘I haven’t been in England since I left school.’ She’d been almost sixteen and had been thrilled that Papa had finally called for her presence.

Oh, he always promised to send for her to visit him, wherever he was, in the summer holidays, but something more important always came up.

Some years, she had visited a school friend if there was time to make arrangements, or was hustled off to Aunt Lenore if there wasn’t.

One year, she had spent the whole of the summer vacation at school by herself, waiting for him to send his carriage for her, with only the cook and the gardener for company.

The realisation that he had forgotten her had been devastating.

It was then that she had lost all faith in him and his promises.

A tap at the door heralded two more servants, one with a tureen of soup, the other with a tray of cold meats, cheese and bread .

‘I hope you do not mind,’ the Duke said, ‘but I do not keep a chef, as I entertain here very little and luncheon tends to be a rather informal affair.’

‘Three footmen serving two bowls of soup and a few sandwiches hardly seems informal.’

He frowned and she awaited some sort of male indignation at her temerity.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t.’ He turned to the young man who had helped her to sit. ‘I think the Countess and I can manage from here, Green. If you can remain within call, the other fellows can return to the stables unless Cook has need of them.’

Green bowed. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’ He ushered the others out of the room.

‘You asked your grooms to serve as footmen?’ she asked.

‘It was either that or ask my butler and footman to travel down from London. The fellows here don’t mind it. It makes a change.’

‘You asked them?’

‘Naturally.’

But could they actually say no?