Page 27 of Duke with a Lie (Wicked Dukes Society #4)

R hiannon found Aubrey where he had told her he would await her that afternoon, beneath the shade of a towering old tree, a fair distance from the manor house and stables.

He was handsome as ever in country tweed and a dashing hat, a bicycle on either side of him.

Leaning against the tree trunk, he took an idle puff of a cheroot, unaware of her approach as he stared into the distance at the rolling park of Wingfield Hall.

As usual, he quite stole her breath. She took a moment to admire him whilst he was unaware, wondering what occupied his mind and secretly pleased that he had arranged this private time away from the house party for the two of them.

She had no wish to participate in further games when she could spend time with him.

He was like the sun, and she was a plant that needed to soak up his presence and warmth to thrive.

She didn’t even want to contemplate what would happen in three days when she would have to return to London and their time together was naught more than a memory. Her heart went bleak and cold at the mere notion, so she shut it away, a worry for another day.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a cheroot?” she asked as she neared him, jolting him from his ruminations as he turned toward her.

“Have I taught you nothing, sweet na?f?” He laid a hand over his heart in dramatic fashion. “It’s never too early for a vice.”

She smiled, easily charmed. “I stand corrected.”

His gaze swept over her. “Good God, are you wearing trousers, minx?”

Rhiannon glanced down at her daring costume, which she had commissioned without Mater’s awareness, and at which her brother no doubt would have balked had he been aware of its existence.

It consisted of a jaunty purple coat worn atop a white blouse with a ribbon at the throat.

Not so shocking from the waist up. But from the waist down, she wore loose Turkish trousers in a matching shade that ended at her knees, beneath which peeped embroidered stockings and her favorite pair of boots.

A handsome straw hat with a purple satin ribbon completed her ensemble.

The whole effect was remarkably freeing—and so much lighter than the cumbersome skirts and trains to which she was accustomed.

“It’s called a bloomer suit,” she informed him. “I have it on good authority that this costume shall be the latest craze for bicycle riding.”

“It’s criminal, is what it is.” He tossed his cheroot to the ground and stomped it with the toe of his boot. “Christ, woman. Your calves in those boots.”

“Do you like them?” She pointed her right toe, showing off the flower embroidery on the wholly impractical footwear.

The heels were too high and the leather was stiff and unforgiving, but she would be pedaling, and she had wanted to look her best for this outing with Aubrey. If she had blisters on her heels later, it would be worth every second of agony just for the look on his face—unabashed admiration.

What a powerful feeling it was to have this man’s attention.

At last.

She had only waited years. And now, finally, he was noticing her when it was almost too late. But she wouldn’t spoil the moment by thinking of that just now.

“They don’t look suited to bicycle riding,” Aubrey said, his gaze still clinging to her limbs on bold display, “but they do look suited to making any man who glimpses you in them into a ravening beast.”

“Hmm, then maybe I shall have to go back to the drawing room,” she mused lightly, tapping her chin with a gloved finger. “I do believe they were about to unleash a new game of naughty charades.”

“I think not. You’re mine for the afternoon. I’ve already claimed you.” He made an elaborate bow. “Madam, your fine steed awaits.”

He gestured toward the bicycles.

“Are you certain no one will see me where we’re riding?” she asked, thinking of the silk mask she had stuffed into her coat pocket on her approach.

Having the boundary removed was a relief and a worry in one. She had grown weary of wearing it whenever she left her chamber, but she also had no wish to be discovered. Particularly not when she had finally managed to gain what she wanted in sneaking into this house party in the first place.

“I’m as reasonably certain as I’m able to be,” he reassured her. “We have the only two bicycles at the house party, and the path I’ve chosen isn’t suited to horseback riding.”

“Where did you manage to find these, and how did you come to have the only two?”

“They’re Kingham’s. Had them hidden away in the stables. He intended to employ some manner of experimentation with them. He’s forever toying with things. I simply availed myself of them before he could begin tearing them apart.”

She raised a brow. “Do you mean to say you’ve stolen them?”

“That’s a harsh word. I’m borrowing them.”

“Does Kingham know you’re borrowing them?”

“He will when I tell him about it later,” Aubrey informed her smoothly. “Now come, the skies are growing dreary again, and if we don’t soon begin our ride, I’ll be tempted to carry you back to your bedchamber and show you the effect that blasted bloomer suit of yours is having on me.”

She grinned. “Now you tempt me. Would you truly be able to carry me the whole way, though? It’s an awful long way, and I’m no waif.”

“On the bicycle, minx,” he said, holding it out for her. “I promised you an excursion, and I think you’ll like it.”

She mounted the bicycle, pleased at the ease of doing so in her new costume. “You see? It’s ever so much better to ride when one’s limbs are freed from the tyranny of skirts.”

“I do believe I’ve demonstrated that I’m more than happy to keep you free from the tyranny of skirts,” he quipped with a wicked grin.

A flush stole over her cheeks. Yes, he most certainly had. And she had fallen a little more in love with him, one kiss, touch, and forbidden pleasure at a time.

“You have indeed,” she acknowledged. “I may require another demonstration this evening, however, just to refresh my memory.”

He laughed as he swung a leg over his own bicycle, seating himself. “Saucy baggage. Follow me.”

Like that, he was off, pedaling away from her. Rhiannon had ridden a bicycle before, but it had been quite a few months ago. She followed in his wake, a bit shaky at first before her confidence swiftly grew.

“Wait for me, you scoundrel,” she called after him.

Her poor legs were no match for his much longer, stronger limbs. Fortunately, he slowed his pace and allowed her to catch up with him. They rode in a companionable silence, following the path into the wooded area on the edge of the park.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked at last, curious.

“You’ll see. We have almost arrived.” His voice was amused.

“Why do you not simply tell me now?”

“Because I want it to be a surprise, minx.”

Something wet landed on her nose.

Rain, she realized, glancing up at the sky, which had darkened to a dull gray.

“The skies are opening up,” she pointed out. “I do hope we shall arrive at our destination soon.”

“Patience. We are nearly there.”

The drops began coming down with greater insistence.

Rhiannon bit her lip as rain spattered her cheeks but pedaled on without comment.

Despite the uncooperative weather, she was ridiculously pleased to be with Aubrey.

This excursion had been his idea as well, which delighted her even more.

He was so often aloof and cool, detached beneath his rakish facade.

But since this morning, a sea change had occurred.

One she wouldn’t take for granted, lest it reverse its course.

Which it inevitably would. She knew him too well by now.

From the overgrowth of the forest, a building suddenly emerged amidst the foliage. Not a moment too soon, as the clouds truly began releasing their fury overhead.

“Here we are,” he announced cheerfully, as if they weren’t being pelted with cold, fat raindrops. “We’ll leave the bicycles in the stables.”

The meandering path had led them to a charming brick cottage with a small building alongside it. She followed him into the stables and allowed him to assist her off the bicycle.

“What is this place?” she asked as she watched him tuck their bicycles out of the weather.

“An old gamekeeper’s cottage. It hasn’t been in use for the last decade or so, but we recently refurbished it so that it can be used for house party guests who require additional privacy.”

“A place for assignations, you mean.”

He shrugged. “A place for whatever one wishes. Dinner, luncheon, perhaps an orgy.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t bring me here for an orgy, did you?”

Aubrey had informed her of the meaning of that word earlier, and it was quite unforgettable.

He extended his hand. “Come and see for yourself.”

She placed her gloved palm in his. “But I’m not wearing my mask.”

He closed his fingers around hers. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Her response was instant, without hesitation.

She trusted him with her body, with her secrets, with her heart.

“Good. Then come.”

He tugged her back out into the rain, which was by now a full downpour.

They rushed through the deluge and into the cottage, both of them soaked by the time they were inside, giggling like children.

Aubrey pulled her into his arms and gave her a thorough kiss, the brims of their hats knocking together.

When it was over, she was breathless as she reached up to remove her wet millinery, glancing around the pleasant interior of the cottage.

The entry hall was small but neat, the scent of fresh paint in the air.

To her left, a staircase presumably led to bedchambers.

To her right, a door was open to a small parlor where a fire crackled in the grate, accompanied by a settee and some chairs.

“It hardly looks like a den of vice,” she observed.

“That is upstairs,” he commented lightly, taking off his hat and hers and hanging them on a hook by the door.

“I also don’t see an orgy.”

“Is that disappointment I detect in your honeyed voice, minx?” he teased.