Page 102

Leona smiled as she leaned back against the pillows.

She took a sip of chocolate. “Our situations are much alike. Perhaps that is why we chafe one against the other. My brother, the heir to Lion’s Gate, is out of the country.

I am ruling the estate in his absence, for it is my duty to the family to do so.

But for some reason I as yet cannot fathom, your brother would deny that I have a duty, or even know the word’s meaning! ”

Lucy shook her head, then smiled ruefully. “I don’t suppose there is an accounting for it, but as you said the other night, men are not as rational and logical as we women.”

They laughed together at that. Then Leona declared it was time she was up.

She tossed aside her covers and got up, put on her dressing gown, and crossed to the vanity to do her morning ritual of one hundred brush strokes to her hair.

Lucy trailed behind her. She knelt backward on a fiddle-back gilt chair with her chin resting on the top, her hands gripping the sides.

“I should send my dresser, Sarah Jewitt, to you. She is a wonder with hair, and yours has a natural wave that I’ll wager she can coax into some of those beautiful new styles .

. . I was quite fortunate to get Jewitt, you know.

Dressers are a cut above abigails, and they rarely communicate with other household servants.

Only the cream of the abigails ever makes dresser.

It is quite a distinction. And they know everything there is to know about fashion and style.

They can tell in a trice if a color or style would suit one. ”

“They sound quite intimidating.”

“Oh, they are—to other people, not to their employers. They go about with the most serious of expressions on their faces. I’ve tried to get Jewett to laugh, but I’ve not been successful.

She is sober, but I tell you, Leona, she has saved me from many a poor choice when it comes to my wardrobe.

I don’t know how I got along without her!

She’s only been with me a little more than three months, and yet it seems I’ve learned so much, and there is still more to learn! ”

“That I do believe, for it is a sad fact of life that there is more to learn in the world than we have days in our lives to learn. I long ago gave up trying to learn everything. I just concentrate on a few subjects,” Leona said with a jesting smile, “like teasing elder brothers.”

Lucy gave a crow of laughter and slid off the chair. She sauntered over to the dressing table, her fingers idly moving the glass jars and bottles about. “Leona, do you truly not wish to come to my betrothal ball? I mean, last evening we rather pressured you, I know. But if you’d rather not. . . .”

Leona stopped brushing and turned to look up at Lucy. “I am a stranger to all of you. I do not want to intrude on such a personal, happy occasion.”

“Oh, believe me, Leona, you wouldn’t be. We want you to be here. I want you to be here. Please stay.”

Leona stared at her for a long moment. “And Deveraux hasn’t put you up to this?”

Lucy shook her head.

She sighed. “All right. I promise—but only because you wish it. Is that understood?”

Lucy smiled sunnily and nodded. “Perfectly.”

Too late, Leona realized her tactical error in committing to Lucy to attend the ball.

Word of her capitulation spread rapidly through the manor house.

Lady Nevin thanked her. David Fitzhugh winked and called her a capital fellow (he must still be dwelling over the stories of her male attire).

Miss Sprockett tittered excitedly, for it was her first ball (reason enough to agree to stay).

And Deveraux smirked. Distressingly, that was getting to be his habitual expression.

All in all, it proved to be a trying morning.

But the sun was up, quickly drying the puddles of water in the lanes, and the air was clean with the first taste of spring in the air.

When a riding expedition was proposed for the afternoon, Leona happily agreed to participate, even though it meant riding in Deveraux’s company, too.

She came jauntily downstairs in her worn brown riding habit trimmed with dark gold braiding and frogs.

She suffered only a moment over her habit’s patched condition, then proceeded to ignore it, for nothing was going to take away the fun of a good ride in the country, with perhaps an energetic gallop or two.

Deveraux studied her quietly for a moment, his regard drawing Leona’s nerves tight. “I suppose you can ride?” he drawled.

Leona bristled. “Since I was seven, I’ve ridden without the lead rein,” she said waspishly. Then she paused, closed her eyes, and brought two fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I apologize,” she said reluctantly, “but I do wish you would stop treating me like some overgrown child.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I assure you I am not, Miss Leonard. I presume, owing to your family’s position, that you can sit a horse. What I was implying was that I assume you can also handle a more spirited animal over the sluggards normally reserved for ladies.”

Leona had the grace to blush.

His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “I think you will be pleased with the mount I have chosen for you. Come, let me introduce you?—”

He led her out the main door and down the front steps. Straight ahead were the old ruins of a Norman keep atop its man-made hill. Wide stone steps laid into the hillside wound their way up from the bottom of the hill to the keep. Leona slowed to admire it.

“The real Castle Marin,” Deveraux said, noting her interest.

“It is beautiful.”

He agreed. “The family has always been proud of our history. Unfortunately, wind, weather, and time are playing havoc with history.”

She looked at him quizzically.

He nodded toward the ruined keep. “Some of those walls are dangerously unsteady. This summer I intend to have it in some measure repaired—it has always been a favored spot for a picnic—but until then, I’ve had to declare it unsafe and off-limits.”

She nodded in understanding, then turned to look up at it again.

For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of silver light from one of the turret windows, but it was gone so swiftly she was sure it was her imagination.

Deveraux touched her arm, recalling her attention, and together they turned to the right, around the side of the house.

Leona was surprised to see the curtain wall did not extend past the house.

She had not noticed that when she arrived last evening.

Beyond where the curtain wall would have stood, one could gaze out across fields and clumps of wood, through which a glistening river flowed.

But close by there was whitewashed fencing enclosing a small paddock.

Inside were four horses. Two were a variegated gray, heavily spotted with black over their withers.

“Those gray ladies are Andalusian mares. I picked them up in Spain.”

“Oh, how beautiful,” Leona said, watching the grays cavort in the paddock. They were so dainty and light in appearance, but with high, proud energy.

“I’m going to breed them. Do you think there will be a market for horses like these in England?”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Leona, enraptured.

He smiled. “It was my thought to have one saddled for you to ride. That is if you think you could handle it.”

“Of course I can! How I’d love to handle one!”

He looked over her head toward the stable block. “Ludlow,” he called out to a bandy-legged gentleman pitching hay. “Have Lady Talavera saddled and ready for Miss Leonard in half an hour.”

The man spit then nodded his understanding and went walking in a rolling-gaited fashion toward the paddock gate. “Come,” Deveraux said, giving her his arm.

Warily she hooked her arm with his and let him lead her back into the house.

“Breeding horses is not just a hobby with me, you know,” he said as they crossed the wide marble hall floor. He led her into the library and to a worn armchair drawn up near the fire. “Can I offer you something to drink? Some Madeira, port, sherry?”

“Just a small glass of sherry, thank you. You were saying something about hobbies?”

He handed her a glass. “Yes, I can’t afford them.

” He shook his head and sat down in a chair opposite hers, splaying his legs out before him.

He held his glass up to the sunlight streaming in the tall windows, turning it every which way to see how the sun caught the cut crystal facets and shone through the amber liquor.

“I’m raising horses for profit. I have to.

I’m a younger son without property and therefore without the assets to grow more money.

I have to watch out for myself, but what is a scholarly educated, sporting-mad military man fit for?

” He laughed harshly. “Nothing, Miss Leonard—Leona.” He grinned.

“I have your problem with names, though not for the same reason. You’ve been Miss Leonard in my thoughts for too long. ”

She laughed and blushed, not knowing quite how to take his words. “I do not know anything about horse breeding, but those two mares looked exquisite,” she said, a trifle tightly. She coughed to clear her throat. “I should love to see their get!”

“I think they shall pay out—eventually.”

“Do you have other investments?”

He laughed. “At the moment, investments are all I have! There is one I’m fairly hopeful of.

My friend Hugh Talverton comes from near Manchester and all the cotton manufactories there.

They’re vile places for the employees: dark, dank, and hot.

He has a notion of building a modern textile mill using new technology.

I and some others are considering investing.

” He looked at her sideways. “Do you think I should be dirtying my hands beyond hope if I become involved in trade?”