Page 25 of My Secret Duke
I vo may have played down his concern. He might have put on a brave face, assuming the familiar role of an amusing, devil-may-care gentleman, but beneath that facade, he was worried. He had yet to discover why Mystere—if the culprit was the mysterious Frenchman—would wish him ill. Even the reliable Bourne had failed to turn up any secrets about the smuggler or about Jacob Rendall with his walleye, who seemed to have disappeared completely. During a visit to see Ivo in London, Bourne had informed him that Lieutenant Harrison and his revenue underlings had been in Portside, asking questions of the villagers and sniffing around for evidence. They seemed more determined than ever to bring Ivo to justice.
And if Ivo’s right-hand man was troubled, when Bourne was rarely troubled, then matters were dire indeed.
In better news, Cadieux’s was doing very well, but there was still the question of Charles’s identity. Ivo was yet to decide how he was going to broach the subject with his family. Was it even necessary at this point? His mother would be distraught. All these years, she had pretended the late duke was the perfect, faithful husband, and Adelina and Lexy had followed her lead. To tell them about Charles’s parentage would force them to confront the cold truth.
After careful thought, Ivo decided it would be better to leave the matter be for now. Charles didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let the world know. But there would come a point when the truth must come out, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the turmoil that would ensue. And speaking of turmoil…
He had gone and embroiled himself in yet another ridiculous dare with Olivia Ashton.
Ivo should be more appalled with himself, but honestly, he could not regret making the challenge. It was the only bright spot in his life. Olivia had looked so miserable that night at the Monteiths’, brooding over the piano keys as if she was carrying the weight of the world upon her shoulders. He’d recognized how her mouth was turned down in that sulky way that always made him want to kiss the life out of her. Instead of kissing her, he’d thrown out that outrageous challenge. Well, it had certainly shaken her out of her melancholy.
Ivo hadn’t been at all certain she would take him up on this latest nonsense—he’d expected her to fire up and tell him off. Accusing him of all manner of things. Hard to believe that when he had walked over to the piano, he had only been going to be there for a polite moment. Instead, seeing her unhappy had made Ivo ache inside. He wanted her. He suspected he was in love with her. The only problem was she did not love him, and if she was still determined to marry whoever her grandmother wheeled out next, then Ivo was only going to suffer more heartbreak. In temperament, he and Olivia were perfectly matched. In Ivo’s opinion she was far too worried about what other people thought, but he suspected she would say he wasn’t worried enough. There was just the little matter of her need for a wealthy suitor and Ivo being in debt. He wanted her to see that he was dealing with that, and the future was looking brighter— if he could escape the clutches of the Revenue Service and Mystere.
Ivo sighed. Who was he kidding? She would never agree to marry him. It stung because nothing felt as right, as perfect, as having Olivia in his arms. If they ever did more than kiss, he was sure their passion would light up the world.
Maybe he should call off this latest dare? A horse race! He had been riding since he was a child, and being astride a horse was as natural to him as walking, while Olivia was far from a confident rider. In fact, he could not ever remember seeing her riding a horse.
What was she going to do when she realized this time besting him was beyond her? Send Roberta in her place?
The idea made Ivo smile, and then grimace.
He was being honest when he had assured her the risk to her reputation was small, but if he was a gentleman , he would allow her to back out of his challenge in a graceful manner. Perhaps he could even make up some prior appointment that precluded him from taking her up on the race? Or maybe she would swallow her pride and accept the impossibility of her winning. Surely a tumble from a horse would do more damage to her pride than admitting that this time she had overextended herself.
But Ivo already knew he was not going to forfeit, and he was almost positive that neither was Olivia. They were both too stubborn, and the sense of anticipation too heady. And he was looking forward to their encounter. Every time he thought of it, his heart lifted, and he found himself smiling. Life with Olivia would never be dull. If only she would love him back.
Unbeknownst to Ivo, Oliva was at that very moment attempting to master the art of horse riding. She sat on top of Mable, the quietest and oldest animal in the Ashton House stable, trying to concentrate on maintaining her seat.
It wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped.
“You look like you’re riding a tumbrel,” Roberta said in disgust. “Going to have your head chopped off.”
“Why is it so difficult?” Olivia complained. “This silly sidesaddle. It must have been invented by a man. I bet if a man sat on it for even five minutes, he would declare it illegal.”
Roberta frowned as she walked around Mable, no doubt mentally criticizing Olivia’s seat again.
She was not used to her younger sister giggling at her mistakes or huffing impatiently at her questions. The horsey smell was bad enough, but to have Roberta—three years her junior—making her feel small. Was she really such a poor riding student, or was Roberta just making the most of her role as expert?
If Olivia hadn’t been so determined to win Ivo’s dare, she would have given up by now. Where was the pleasure in riding a horse anyway? Why would anyone want to when there were so many better things to do?
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I rode astride the horse?” Olivia wriggled as she perched uncomfortably on the sidesaddle.
“Yes, and it is, but do you really want to be pointed at and gossiped about? Ladies ride sidesaddle—or at least they do when they’re in company. I prefer to ride astride when I am at Grantham where nobody can see me. Nobody who matters, that is.”
Olivia thought about that. Should she conform to society’s norms and lose the race? Because she already knew she could never ride along Rotten Row like this. Such a silly idea. And winning was what mattered, wasn’t it? She remembered Ivo suggesting a disguise, and at the time she had imagined herself in her maid’s clothing. But why dress as a woman at all? Why not dress as a boy? A groom? Breeches and boots made so much more sense if one was on a horse, and then she could ride astride without anyone caring a jot.
“I don’t think it will matter,” she said. “Not for my purposes.”
Roberta peered up at her suspiciously, and Olivia could tell she was dying to know what this was all about. Thus far, Olivia had fobbed her off with vague notions of learning to ride so that she could join an excursion into the countryside to which she had been invited. But Roberta would not be fobbed off for long. She knew Olivia was telling fibs, and if she was to get the intensive training she needed, Olivia would need to be honest.
“ You want to ride astride?” Roberta sounded as if Olivia had suggested she dance naked at Justina’s coming-out.
“Someone dared me,” she replied uncomfortably, and then closed her eyes in pain as Roberta gave a shriek.
They were alone in the stables in the mews at the back of Ashton House, but all the same, she didn’t want everyone to know what they were up to. She had already bribed the groom and stableboy to go away for a couple of hours.
“Who?” Roberta demanded, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, do tell, Olivia! Who dared you to ride a horse?”
Olivia gritted her teeth. “The Duke of Northam.”
This time, Roberta covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her shriek. She danced around in a circle, her dark hair loose and flying about her, evidently overcome with mirth.
Olivia glared at her. “It isn’t that funny.”
When Roberta had herself under control, she removed the hands and grinned at her sister. “I knew it! Well, I didn’t know it know it, but I suspected it was something to do with Northam. It always is!”
Olivia sniffed. “Well, your suspicions have been proven correct, Roberta. Congratulations. Now, let’s get back to riding this horse. I have a race to ride, and it is imperative I win. He won’t be expecting me to. He thinks I can’t even ride.”
Roberta seemed to have a lot to say in reply to that, but contented herself with, “You can’t. Ride, I mean.”
“That’s why you’re teaching me, Roberta.”
Roberta looked smug. “And if anyone can teach you, it is me,” she agreed. “Now, let’s have a look at your seat again. Astride this time.”
Once Roberta had removed the offending saddle, Olivia climbed back onto Mable with a groan. She swung her leg over the mare’s wide flank, feeling uncomfortable and looking disheveled, and tried to pretend she knew what she was doing. Her sister didn’t appear to be impressed.
“Where is this race taking place?” Roberta asked as she arranged Olivia’s foot more securely in the stirrup.
“Hyde Park. We are racing along Rotten Row.”
Roberta stared up at her, shocked into silence. But it didn’t last for long. A laugh bubbled out of her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her words were muffled. “But… that’s more than a mile! Won’t people see you?”
“I’m hardly going as Lady Godiva. It will be at five o’clock in the morning, before anyone is about, and I will be in disguise.”
“Oh… well…” Roberta chewed on her lip. “I’m not sure that makes it all right, Olivia. Do you really think that is correct behavior?”
Roberta was definitely being sarcastic, repeating her sister’s words back to her. She was no doubt remembering those many times recently when Olivia had told her off for behaving improperly.
“Of course it is not correct behavior,” she hissed. “But the important thing is, no one will know. Unless you decide to tell them, that is. Will you?”
Instead of replying to the question, Roberta gave a huge sigh of relief. “I thought you were set on being a model of respectability! It was so boring. No one could ever live up to those exacting standards, Olivia. I’m so glad you’re back to your normal self again.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d been told she’d turned into a stickler for the rules. Had she really been such a pain? She had certainly been wretched while she was trying to be Miss Perfect in order to secure Prince Nikolai’s hand. It had been exhausting. Although she still felt the need to help her sisters, to make their lives better, she kept reminding herself that they had Gabriel and Vivienne now. She really didn’t have to play the martyr.
Another thought occurred to her, and she made her voice stern. “Don’t think for a moment you can do something like this… this race. You will be sent back to Grantham forever.”
Roberta tossed her head. “I’m not a fool. I know I must behave myself until I’m properly out. I have plans too, Olivia. You’re not the only one.”
Olivia wanted to ask questions, but she was afraid of Roberta’s answers. Sometimes her sister was a mystery to her, and perhaps it was better that way.
They carried on with the lesson. Olivia urged Mable to walk around the stable, making use of the reins and the muscles in her thighs to turn the tranquil old mare. After a time, she got the hang of it, and even Roberta stopped finding fault. This wasn’t nearly as difficult as she had feared, and by the time they finished, she was feeling quite cocksure.
Roberta removed the saddle, saying over her shoulder, “Next we need to practice cantering, and after that, galloping.”
Olivia’s confidence drained away. “How will we do that?” she said. “Surely there isn’t enough room in here. And people will see us in the street.”
“Don’t be silly,” Roberta said in a scornful voice. “We’ll have to get up early and ride in the park. You can practice. You’ll need to wear your disguise, but I find the regular riders don’t take any notice. There are a lot of grooms exercising horses, as well as their owners.”
It was Olivia’s turn to stare. “ You find…? Robbie, do you go out riding alone?”
Her sister flushed and gave a toss of her head. Perhaps she really was half horse. “So what if I do? I don’t think you can reprimand me in the circumstances.”
Olivia opened her mouth, then remembered she needed Roberta’s help, and bit back her reproof. “And I can ride Mable?” she asked instead.
“Yes. For now.”
“But when I race Ivo,” Olivia insisted. “I can ride Mable?” She thought she already knew the answer, even before Roberta snorted a mocking laugh.
“You can ride Mable if you want to lose. Or stop halfway down. Mable might want to take a rest and chew some daisies.” She shook her head. “No, Olivia, of course you won’t be riding Mable. You will be riding Arrow.”
Shocked speechless, Olivia turned her head. Arrow’s stall was just behind her, and as if he had understood Roberta’s words, he was staring at her over the door. He was a chestnut gelding with a white mark on his forehead that resembled an arrow. But that wasn’t why he was called Arrow. The name was due to his speed. He was Roberta’s favorite, and as far as Olivia was aware, no one else ever rode him.
Now, as she continued to stare, he stamped his hooves restlessly, and tossed his head in a similar fashion to Roberta. It was as if he was daring Olivia to try to ride him, and she was filled with dread. Perhaps she should just send Ivo a note, crying off, make up some excuse…? She had caught a cold. She was too busy. She had to leave the country. She was on her deathbed!
She jumped when a warm hand closed around hers. Roberta was watching her with something close to sympathy, apart from the amused gleam in her blue eyes. “It will be all right,” she assured her. “You just have to hold on tight while Arrow does the work. He understands all about racing. Practice not falling off. Unless…” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you changed your mind? Do you still want to go ahead with it? You know that Northam will think you a craven coward if you cry off now.”
Olivia attempted to order her shaky thoughts. Roberta was right, Ivo would think that. He would pretend to commiserate with her, but wouldn’t she fall in his estimation? No, they were friends, and he wouldn’t deride her, although he might tease her. She was still the girl he admired—she felt his admiration like a warm cloak, protection against the chill she often felt from the ton. Besides, she wasn’t going to let the Miss Fenwicks of the world show her up. That glimmer of excitement began to grow inside her. Yes, she would race him and probably lose, but she would do it! Because the alternative was accepting the tedium that lay before her.
Olivia took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of horse, and spoke with resolution. “I am going to ride Arrow. I am going to race Northam. And I am going to win.”
Roberta’s answering smile was full of pity. “Of course you are.”