Page 6

R as was wrong about Nate. Apparently the man was desperate enough to find an heiress that he maneuvered to join the morning ride. He showed up bleary-eyed at the stable, but he was there, his curly hair in rakish disarray.

“Good lord, man, did you sleep at all last night?”

His friend shrugged. “A gossipmonger’s work is never done. Especially when one wants to put it in print. Many people deny the words, but I—”

“Use a pseudonym so that no one knows who pens Mr. Pickleherring’s salacious tales.”

Nate grinned. “It pays the tailor bill, and that is all I care about.”

He cared about a great deal more since he did verify his gossip.

Ras knew the real reason Nate haunted the gambling dens and society ballrooms was so he could expose the liars and the cheats.

If someone had warned Nate’s father about the conman who sold shares in a bogus investment years ago, Nate wouldn’t be reduced to penning a gossip column to pay his tailor now.

But that was yesterday’s tale. Today’s activity included a morning ride with the most intriguingly odd woman he’d ever met.

She spoke with absolute rationality about the business of marriage and in the same breath discussed love potions.

The discontinuity of that made him smile and, more important, she seemed to understand when he was making a joke.

His sense of humor was lost on most people, so he appreciated that she looked a little deeper.

That was so rare that he immediately wanted to know her better.

What he hadn’t expected was that he’d spend the night reliving every second of their conversation together.

For all that she tried to appear a conservative chaperone—with modest brown hair, a simple gown, and restrained gestures—it took very little for him to see that she had strong thoughts and wasn’t averse to challenging his opinion.

No one had taken him to task in years, and he was startled to discover that he found the experience arousing.

Unpleasant, to be sure, and yet so interesting as to make her the most attractive woman in the room.

What a perverse creature he was, and yet the pleasure he had derived last night from remembering every moment with her, even the uncomfortable ones, had led to erotic imaginings that still had him randy at seven in the morning.

He glanced at Nate, who was not as bleary-eyed as he looked. “What’s got you so happy? You’re practically dancing in the saddle.”

They were on their way to pick up the ladies, with the grooms and other horses following at a steady pace. Thankfully, the streets were not very crowded.

“I am my normal happy,” he responded levelly. “I enjoy my morning rides.”

“No, you’re not,” Nate returned as he scratched at his jaw. “You’re practically grinning.”

He was not. But he might be smiling which, admittedly, was rare.

Fortunately, they arrived at their destination and headed for the door.

Lady Zoe was the daughter of the Earl of Satheath and so resided in an appropriately grand residence with a butler who opened the door well before he and Nate made it up the steps.

They were escorted inside with all the normal pomp, only to find Lady Zoe nearly vibrating with excitement.

“I see you brought Swirl and Rumble,” she said when they entered. “Excellent choices, though I do hope you will allow me to ride Rumble.”

Ras paused in the middle of his bow, only to straighten up with a frown. “Swirl and Rumble?”

Lady Zoe had been perched at the edge of a settee, looking out the window. She now seemed to drag her gaze off the horses to him. “Yes, the two mares, Swirl and Rumble. Swirl because of the whirls she has on her cheeks and Rumble because of the noises she makes when you groom her.”

“The mares are named Epona and Nevarra.”

“They’re…oh.” She pressed her hand to her mouth as her cheeks heated. “I am merely repeating what the grooms called them.”

Ras straightened until he was peering down his nose at her. “And how do you know what the grooms call my horses?”

“Um, well, as to that…” The girl fidgeted with her riding gloves. “I happened to be near your stables a few weeks ago. I love horses, you see, and couldn’t resist.”

Nate chuckled from where he stood beside the tea tray. He hadn’t waited to be served but had helped himself to a strong cup. “You cheeky minx. You have been secretly visiting Ras’ horses.”

“It wasn’t a secret!” she cried. “I, um, I…”

“Good morning, my lord, Your Grace.” Miss Petrelli entered behind them, moving quickly as she brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face.

“My apologies for being late. The countess required some extra attention with her morning chocolate. Ah, Lord Nathaniel. I am so glad you didn’t wait on ceremony with that tea.

It would be cold otherwise.” She shot a hard look at Zoe who had apparently forgotten she was supposed to serve.

“Not at all,” Nate said with his customary enthusiasm. “We were just discussing how Lady Zoe is already familiar with Ras’ horses.”

“Well, of course she is,” the woman said smoothly. “It’s been tedious, you know, being in London well before the Season began. Lady Zoe and I have made several excursions outside of the city, and we discovered your stables completely by—”

“Design?” Nate interrupted. “It would be the smart thing to do, after all, if one intended to catch the duke’s attention.”

Ras glowered at his friend. “That is not the best way to catch my attention.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” Miss Petrelli said, pouring another cup of tea. “And it wasn’t by design. Or at least not completely. Sugar, Your Grace? Cream?” she asked as she held out a cup of tea for him.

Courtesy required that he take it though he was not accustomed to waiting this long before his morning exercise. “Lemon alone, thank you.”

“An excellent choice,” she said as if he were deliberating an affair of state. “Zoe—”

“None for me, thank you,” the girl quipped, clearly eager to be outside with his cattle. “But I shall take a couple strawberries dipped in sugar.” She glanced at Ras. “It makes Rumble, um, rumble quite loud. If you would like to hear it.”

Strawberries hadn’t been in season long enough for her to know that. Unless, of course, she had been very recently in his stables. “Just how well do you know my horses?”

“Zoe has been a regular visitor, my lord. She had the stablemaster’s permission. Mr. Barnes knows her as Miss Daisy Duncan.”

“He only calls me Daisy. He thinks I’m a local girl who has a passion for horses. He’s never let me ride any of them, but I’ve helped with their training and grooming. There’s always something to be done at a stable.”

“At my stable,” he pressed.

“How else am I to get to know your horses?” Zoe returned.

Nate chuckled. “She has you there, Ras. Come on, don’t make a fuss. She was perfectly well supervised, and it’s not even improper.”

“To work a man’s stable without permission?

” Good lord, what if his mother found out?

What if anyone in society found out? They’d insist he’d compromised her somehow and he’d have to marry her.

The very idea that the daughter of an earl had been running around his stable like a common laborer would do such damage to her reputation that she might not recover.

And it would do no favors to his own. “You cannot tell anyone about this!” He shot a glare at Lady Zoe, but his words were for Nate. Or rather for Mr. Pickleherring.

“Yes,” Miss Petrelli interposed. “We have kept the excursions secret. And they’ve ended now that the Season has started.

But in happy news, Zoe can finally ride Rumble as she’s always wanted to.

” The lady stood up and gestured for them to precede her outside.

It was the action of a seasoned hostess.

She kept the party moving, smoothed over any unpleasant realizations, and functioned as if everything were exactly proper, even when her own charge had been running about the countryside as Miss Daisy Duncan and doing the work of a stable boy.

He was still absorbing the shock of Lady Zoe’s impropriety when the girl leaped up to rush outside. She barely kept herself from running. Nate followed her, a grin on his face, but Ras held back to speak with Miss Petrelli.

“You’re her chaperone. Do you have any idea how you have risked her reputation?”

“Have you never known a girl with high spirits, Your Grace? One who chafes at being indoors, who is used to daily exercise, and is simultaneously terrified of the coming Season where her life will be determined by so many factors she cannot control?”

“Other girls do not impersonate stable hands.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Not my stable hands!”

“Again, Your Grace, are you sure? Would you have known it if Zoe hadn’t just confessed it all?”

No, of course he wouldn’t. He barely spoke with his stablemaster given that there were so many more important things clamoring for his attention.

He enjoyed riding, of course, and hunting had been a favorite pastime when he was younger.

But right now, he couldn’t remember the last conversation he’d had with Mr. Barnes.

“You can be sure I’ll speak with Mr. Barnes forthwith.

Good God, what if something had happened to her? ”

“She was perfectly safe, Your Grace. Your stablemaster is a good man with a kind heart. And Zoe is well able to take care of herself around horses.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You are being prickly for no reason at all.”

Was he? “You have no idea how vicious society can be,” he said softly. “Have you ever had a Season, Miss Petrelli?”

“You know I have not.”

“Have you ever resided in London before? Been in society with any of the haut ton? ”

She scowled at him, her voice growing hard. “You know I have not. My parents died two years ago when I came to live with Zoe’s family. The Earl and Countess are aging, and I was grateful to help them.”

“And to act as Zoe’s chaperone.”

“Yes.”

“Then believe me when I say, you have no concept of how dangerous her games have been. Last night you accused me of ruining her chances—”

“Because you cut her for no reason.”

No reason? He strangled the urge to argue that point and plunged ahead with his main one. “What you have allowed with love potions and pretending to be a stablehand? That is madness.”

She didn’t like the way he was speaking to her.

Her jaw grew tight, and her expression turned hard.

But she didn’t argue, and he saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

In the end, she tilted her head in the smallest acknowledgement.

“It doesn’t matter. The Season has started now.

There is no more time for visits to your stable. ”

“You can be sure of it.”

The lady winced at his hard tone. “But don’t be surprised if she wants to visit your real stables. She learned a great deal about the horses at your family seat. She knows that these are just the ones brought to London for the Season. She has been desperate—”

“Her desires are not my concern,” he said coldly.

“Only that her reputation does not entangle in any way with my own.” Why wouldn’t she understand?

“I do not want to marry her, Miss Petrelli. She is a child. But given that she is an eligible woman of the appropriate rank, we could both be forced into a disastrous arrangement. I do not want that for either of us.”

He spoke the words forcefully, wishing he could impress upon her exactly how manipulative society could be.

And how punitive, if one stepped outside of the prescribed bounds.

The haut ton would see nothing wrong with him marrying a child half his age provided that she was from a titled family.

Which Lady Zoe was. He, on the other hand, wanted something more from his bride than a sixteen-year-old girl who thought nothing of impersonating a stable hand and blithely confessed it as if it were nothing more than a trip to a candymaker.

Fortunately, Miss Petrelli had more sense. Her gaze lowered and she nodded. “I understand your point, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

“You are more experienced in the ways of society, and I would be stupid not to listen. But I am much more versed in the management of spirited girls and of Zoe in particular. There is not a cruel bone in her body. She has energy and intelligence. It is hard for a girl such as her to be stuffed into the rigid lines set around every debutante.”

“It is your job as her chaperone to see that she is. Or I fear you will watch her get crushed when she is finally caught.” Indeed, she had been caught because this was exactly the kind of gossip that Mr. Pickleherring might share.

He shuddered to think what he would have to trade to Nate in order for the man to hide this particular tidbit.

“You really think it is as serious as all that?” Miss Petrelli asked.

“I do. And she will not like what happens when society finds out what she has been up to. They love nothing more than a villainous tart, and it is damned easy to create one, no matter the truth.”