“I thought we’d follow the secret little path I used to ride as a child.” Olivia spoke as though she hadn’t heard Alicia’s protest. “I’ll show you the view from where a waterfall spills into the pool overlooking the hills beyond.”
Alicia knew it would be best to refuse, but having a chance to converse with Dalton’s sister might be the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. The deep loneliness Alicia had perceived last night when he held her hand against his chest came as a shock to her. What she sensed was in direct contrast to the shallow image Dalton portrayed. “Very well, Lady Olivia. I’ll accept. But only a very short ride.”
“Splendid!” Olivia clasped Alicia’s hand. “I’ll
call the maid to come inside and help you change. While you’re here, Marie will be your personal maid.”
“Should I ask Marie to instruct the stable master to saddle our horses?”
Olivia chuckled. “Forgive me, Lady Alicia, but I’ve already done so.”
While Alicia was changing into her riding habit, Olivia moved about the small cottage, staring in utter disbelief. “My brother must have used a London decorator. Everything is lovely,” she said finally. She studied the elegant bedroom—the Belgian lace coverlet and curtains, the enormous porcelain bathtub. “I’ve never seen a more beautifully shaped tub!” Pale pink cabbage roses, made so popular by Empress Josephine, were painted along the border of the chamber walls.
The maid finished buttoning the tiny jet clasps along Alicia’s jacket, then stepped back to allow Alicia room to see herself in the gilt-framed threeway mirror.
“You look lovely, my dear,” Olivia exclaimed. “The Prussian blue suits your lovely auburn hair and dark eyes.”
Alicia smiled at the compliment. She hadn’t worn the habit since her coming out three years ago. Her smile faded with the memory. The maid placed the wide-brimmed hat atop Alicia’s head and stepped back. “What thick, shiny hair. It’s a shame to cover it,” Marie said.
“Thank you,” Alicia said, feeling pleased with
the way she looked. Vanity was a sin, she reminded herself. Never had she cared about finery, but for a moment, she wondered what Dalton would think if he saw her dressed so becomingly.
She immediately drew back in self-censure. She cared nothing for what that man thought.
Half an hour later, Olivia’s golden mare cantered easily beside Alicia’s spirited filly. “Havencrest is one of the most beautiful estates I’ve ever seen,” Alicia said finally. Besides immaculately groomed riding paths, the views from the verdant, rolling countryside were breathtaking.
“Havencrest has been in the family since the Tudors. When father died last year, Dalton inherited the estate along with the title.” Olivia gave her a sideways glance. “My poor brother. As though he’ll ever enjoy the titled responsibilities.”
Alicia’s curiosity rose. “Why not, my lady?” So far, she had learned very little about Olivia’s brother. It was as though Olivia felt guarded to talk about him.
“Dalton is much too unsettled to enjoy the country life. Only Bashshar’s injury keeps my brother here.”
Of course, Alicia realized. How could she have forgotten what men of the ton were like. Gambling halls, racetracks and beautiful women. Olivia was right. Men like Dalton could never appreciate the pastoral beauty of Havencrest. Yet Dalton had seemed genuinely concerned about Bashshar. A thought struck her.
“Lady Olivia, does your brother plan to race Bashshar?”
Olivia raised a brow. “Bashshar’s sire was an Arabian racer, bred to our English Thoroughbred.” She paused. “My brother’s dream was to see Bashshar win the Newmarket Classic this year.” She sighed. “Now, there’s little chance that will happen.”
So that was the reason Dalton was so desperate for Bashshar to recover. He was concerned with the money and prestige that came with owning a racing champion. The knowledge somehow deflated her spirits.
“I believe Dalton said your family owns racing stock, Lady Alicia. Have you a racehorse entered in an upcoming heat?”
Alicia smiled, thinking of Jupiter, her first racing colt to come from their stable. “My two-year-old has promise. I’m hoping to enter him in the Newmarket Classic this year as well.”
Olivia looked impressed. “I wish you the best.” Before she could say more, the sound of galloping hooves hammered along the path. She looked up to see two riders galloping toward them. Tall, elegantly dressed, both men rode with the agility of experts. They gallantly brought their horses to the verge, allowing Alicia and Olivia the right away.
“Lord Theodore Clitheridge and Lord Templestone,” Olivia greeted the men warmly before introducing Alicia to them.
Lord Clitheridge doffed his hat, staring at Alicia with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. “My
compliments to your father, Lady Alicia, for having such a lovely daughter.”
Alicia smiled graciously, despite Lord Clitheridge’s veiled hint that he knew of her damaged reputation by mentioning that he knew her father. No doubt he obliged himself not to give her the cut direct out of deference to Lady Olivia. Alicia would rather show ignorance to his innuendo than let him see her dismay.
The second man, Lord Templestone, was dressed in pink satin and lace at his neck and cuffs. Alicia thought he looked like an overstuffed boudoir pillow.
Templestone tipped his hat. “I’ve never met your sire, Lady Alicia, but your beauty and grace do him much honor.”
Alicia thanked him. Beside her, Olivia chatted with ease. If she was aware of the men’s intimation, she gave no sign. Although Alicia had yearned to ride, she should never have accepted Olivia’s invitation. Those who hadn’t known of her scandal would soon hear of it from those who knew. She forced a brave smile and met the men’s curious glances with confidence.
“Sorry to hear of Dalton’s stallion’s accident,” Lord Templestone said to Olivia. “Bad thing, that.”
“Bashshar is improving nicely,” Olivia answered.
“Heard the horse took quite a beating.” Templestone brushed at the sleeve of his riding jacket.
“You’re misinformed.” Olivia’s smile exuded charm, but her voice held an edge that wasn’t present before.
Lord Clitheridge looked as if he were going to say something when his attention was diverted to a man and woman racing across the green, directly toward them.
Alicia gazed at the riders. She felt a lump in her throat when she recognized Dalton, astride a pure white Arabian stallion. The lady riding beside him was perched sidesaddle atop a dun mare. Beneath the narrow-brimmed hat she wore, the woman’s gold hair shone like a newly minted coin. As they approached, Alicia noticed the lady peer at her with growing interest.
“Sister, I see you’ve met Lady Alicia.” Dalton made no move to introduce Alicia to his beautiful riding companion.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.” Olivia glanced toward Alicia. “Have you met Lady Alicia Spencer?” she asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s perfect features froze into a mask of distaste. With undisguised rancor, she turned to Dalton. “Shall we take the upper path?”
Elizabeth’s failure to acknowledge her, especially when Olivia had directly asked Elizabeth a question, was a cruel cut directed at Alicia.
Dalton’s expression gave no notice, but Alicia thought she saw a flinty look in his blue gaze. “You’ve picked a lively mount, Lady Alicia. Mischief enjoys testing a new rider. I warn you, she’s not as meek as she appears.”
“Don’t worry, your grace. Neither am I.” Alicia refused to remain and subject herself to further abuse. She whirled the spirited filly around.
“Excuse me, please,” she said to Olivia before she turned the mare in the direction of the stables.
Almost immediately, the sound of a horse galloping behind her took her attention.
“I’ll race you back,” Dalton called out to her.
“Dalton!” Elizabeth’s voice charged with anger. “I’m your fiancée! You can’t leave me here!”
Dalton’s fiancée?
Surprise and disappointment rushed over Alicia. For an engaged man to leave his partner alone while he charged off with another woman was the deepest insult—grave enough to endanger the engagement.
But what did she care? Dalton’s Arabian was almost beside her mare. She leaned forward, urging Mischief with encouragement. Moments later, the mare easily took the lead.
Within seconds, Dalton’s powerful beast galloped beside her again, but the light-footed Mischief had a head to be first. Spirit was everything, Alicia knew. Large, powerful horses might set a burst of endurance at the start, but like humans, a winning spirit was the key to heroic accomplishments.
Stately trees and low thickets rushed past in a green blur as they raced, their horses neck and neck. Surprised to hear her own peal of laughter amid the thundering hooves, she glanced a peek at Dalton.
His jet riding jacket fit his broad shoulders to perfection. Black, shiny leather boots molded to his muscled legs like a second skin. His rich baritone laughter rang through her thoughts. She couldn’t remember when she felt so exhilarated.
The stable’s long stone enclosure rose in the distance. Dalton’s horse inched alongside of Mischief, preparing to take the lead.
Alicia longed to win; she had to win if she was going to beat down the feeling that she was an outcast. She would win!
As they neared the west side of the stables, Dalton leaned over the saddle, easing into the lead. Just then, Alicia spotted the small cottage sitting to the left of the livery stable. If she were to veer to the right of the bungalow, then go behind the stables along the shorter path to the paddock entrance, she might beat Dalton, after all.
When they were within a hundred yards of the stable, Alicia urged her mount to the left. When Dalton glanced up to see where she was going, it was too late for him to follow. Alicia raced Mischief toward the bungalow. Passing the stable, she brought her mount along the side of the paddock.
Several grooms rushed toward her and helped her dismount. Her heart pounded in sweet satisfaction. A few seconds later, Dalton arrived on his stallion, and dismounted a few feet from her.
His mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “You win, Lady Alicia.”
“And a fair win it was,” she returned, waiting for his chiding to follow. Instead, he said nothing as he tossed the reins to a waiting groom.
Dalton would have won if she hadn’t veered from the path, and his gallantry wasn’t making her winning as satisfying as she’d hoped. It was almost as if he didn’t care who won.
“Too bad we didn’t place a wager,” he offered finally, his heated gaze fixed on her. “I might have tried harder.”
“Of course! How could I have forgotten that unless one bets, it’s not worth doing?” She glared at him. “I should be returning to Bashshar.”
“Dressed in such lovely finery?”
For the moment, she’d forgotten about her riding habit. A heat rose to her cheeks, and she wished he would leave. If only he had mentioned that he was engaged earlier.
But why should he? Dalton considered her nothing more than a stable hand, a nursemaid for his horse. Oh, why had she let Olivia talk her into leaving the stable and pretending to be someone she could never be?
Anger, frustration and something she didn’t recognize flamed within her. She was a lady, even if she had been snubbed by the ton. “Yes, I’ll change into something more suitable. If you’ll excuse me—”
Dalton grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her to face him. “I don’t know what possessed Elizabeth to act the way she did. Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged.”
“It’s none of my concern.” She brushed his hands from her shoulders.
“There’s nothing between us, Alicia. I have no arrangement with Elizabeth. We’re both free to do what we want.”
“I didn’t ask you for an explanation.” Alicia stepped back, but he moved with her.
“We’re not engaged.” He took her hand.
She felt his warmth, so close. Much too close. She felt suddenly dizzy. “Please, let me go.”
“It’s important that you believe me.”
“Oh, I see. Elizabeth is the liar and you’re telling me the truth. Is that it?” The paddock fencing seemed to spin around her. She felt warm and light-headed when he looked at her in such an intimate way.
“I don’t want you to think worse of me than you already do.”
“I suggest you have this conversation with your lady love, not with me.” Alicia tried to shake free of his hand, but he held her fast.
“Alicia, please—”
“Lady Alicia, if you please.” They faced each other, the awkward silence adding to the void between them. Finally, he released her. She gathered her skirts and rushed from the paddock.
Her hands were still trembling when she dashed inside the cottage and closed the door. She leaned against the smooth wood, her heart pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut. The handsome face of Dalton Warfield, the duke of Wexton, flooded her mind. His passionate eyes burned into her soul.
Dalton had looked so earnest, so trusting.
Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged
.
Why should she care if Dalton was telling the truth? She opened her eyes to her own painful truth. She did care. God help her, but she wanted to believe him.
Chapter Four
D
alton gripped the reins of his mount with practiced control as he rode along the bridle path. Despite his outward appearance, he still felt shocked at Elizabeth for her behavior to Alicia. The sooner he found Elizabeth and settled the matter, once and for all, the sooner he could assure Alicia that she wouldn’t have to put up with such tactless conduct again.
Elizabeth! What had provoked her to blurt out that she was his fiancée? In his mind, he could still see Alicia’s surprise, then accusing look before she schooled her features behind an emotionless mask. He winced inwardly. No doubt she learned to mask the pain in her life since her fall from grace.
It was bad enough that Dalton’s bargain with Alicia had thrust her amid the ton, but the poor woman wasn’t used to Elizabeth’s jealousy. No telling what lengths she was willing to go to make Alicia’s life hell. Elizabeth’s conduct toward Alicia was cruel, and he wouldn’t permit such behavior at his estate.
Through the shrubbery up ahead, Dalton saw
a flash of blue, then Elizabeth rode into view. His jaw clenched as he reined back and waited for her.