The Viscount's Sweet Temptation (7 page)

“Then where?”

His laugh was rough with his need. “Your parents would notice if we were missing for too long. I wonder if your grandfather could be convinced to alter the names on one of those licenses he is said to have obtained.”

“Oh, but Mama is looking forward to a large wedding celebration. I am the first of her children to marry. Or the first child whose wedding she might attend, since Lee ran off to Gretna Green. Perhaps in London at the beginning of the Season?”

“Too long.”

Her gaze locked on his, her smile softening. Her voice was a small margin deeper. “A winter wedding, then?”

“As soon as the banns can be read. And my family told, of course.” What was he thinking? He was planning his wedding and his parents had yet to hear of his engagement.

“I can’t wait to speak to Ellie. We’ll be sisters!”

He groaned, closing his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that. Another female giggling through the halls of Wrenthorpe.”

“But I shall be a married woman. I’ll be much more composed.”

“Marriage hasn’t helped my elder sisters in that manner. I won’t hold out much hope.”

She pouted. For some odd reason, his heart skipped a beat in fear he’d hurt her. “It is my wish that you never change. I pray you shall always be filled with laughter and joy as on the night we first met.”

That turned the trick and her face brightened. “How can I be anything else, as long as you are at my side? Oh, dear Archie, this is entirely the best dream.”

As he kissed her once more, he prayed it was a dream from which they’d never wake.

~*~

The next two months passed quickly, with the need to tell his parents of his betrothal and arrange for his father’s solicitor to meet with Alderford’s solicitor. The Marquess of Boxworth had backed off his demands when confronted with statements from six men who agreed Morley hadn’t gone to bed when Lady Susan insisted he had.

Now, on the second Tuesday in March, he’d donned his finest coat and whitest cravat to stand beside Harriet at the altar of the church near the Alderford estate.

Morley waited beside his friend Edmund, Lord Snowley, watching for his bride to enter. The small chapel was rather full for a wedding, but his sisters and their husbands accounted for a good number of the filled pews. He and Harriet had agreed that only family members would be present, keeping the moment more intimate.

All he wanted was for the vows to be spoken, the breakfast consumed, congratulations accepted, and the two of them could depart to the cottage in Surrey his father had offered them the use of.

Laughter from the back of the church alerted him to Harriet’s arrival. Her older sister, Miriam, scurried up the aisle to stand opposite Morley and Snowley. Lady Alderford strode with all the decorum of the mother of the bride and took her place in the first pew. Finally, Harriet came into view on her father’s arm.

Her gown was a simple Grecian style, pale primrose cambric with roses embroidered about the hem, and darker evening primrose ribbons woven in her hair. She looked like spring, a cool, refreshing breeze after the stress of recent weeks. Morley’s smile seemed to tell his body the work was done and now he could simply enjoy.

Enjoy the day. Enjoy the future.

He barely heard the words of the ceremony, his attention remaining on Harriet. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the small posy he’d given her, making the petals of the hothouse violets shiver. He longed to squeeze her fingers and tell her all was well.

It was very well. Aside from a moment’s pause when he had wakened and wondered how he’d brought himself to this point, he was quite pleased to be where he was.

And looking forward to being called husband.

A nod from the vicar reminded Morley they were finished, and he placed Harriet’s gloved hand on his sleeve. “Come, wife. It is time to feed our well-wishers.”

He led her down the aisle with more haste than propriety, and handed her into his carriage, where he sat beside her for the first time since that fateful trip to Bath. He tucked a lap robe around them both, as he hadn’t waited to gather their cloaks. He wanted to be alone with his wife.

Lifting her hand, he tugged the kid leather off her fingers, turned her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. She drew in an audible breath. He met her gaze. “How fitting to find ourselves alone in my carriage, don’t you think?”

“But now it’s quite proper,” she answered breathlessly. Still, she lowered her eyes.

“Sitting in the carriage is proper, perhaps, but the thoughts running through my head are not.”

Harriet’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of rose. “We are married, now. I thought…that is…”

“You thought our days of shocking your family were behind us?” He kissed the pulse points on her wrist and pushed back her sleeve to kiss even higher.

“Um, yes, I suppose that’s what I thought.”

“I shall endeavor to do my best, then, to make certain they don’t hear of this. How far is Alderford Manor?”

Before she could answer, he captured her lips with his kiss, slipping his tongue inside to the sweet warmth he sought.

Harriet whimpered, then sighed and clutched his arm as she leaned in closer.

This sweet, tempting vixen was his. While the decision to marry had come upon him in haste, he looked forward to taking his time getting to know his bride and falling in love along the way.

Bonus!

Please enjoy the first two chapters of The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley, the second book in The Bridgethorpe Brides Series, available now in print and ebook!

Chapter One

The air held a hint of excitement and promise of a fresh beginning
.
For David Lumley, the new year began in spring. Not with the first foal in the family stable, but with the Craven Race Meeting in Newmarket, the first official meeting of the year. This was going to be a grand year for Triton, he could feel it. Fernleigh Stud would be the name on everyone’s lips again.

The crowd at the racecourse was as large as David expected. He surveyed the grounds from his position near the judging station. The social Season in London had yet to begin, so the wives of the horse owners were all in attendance at the Craven. From the way they all leaned close to each other and whispered in the coffee house, they were eager to discover the latest
on dits
. David was always astounded when he overheard how much went on in the homes of the
ton
during the winter months. His life seemed thankfully dull in comparison.

He had no desire to listen to gossip, but soon he’d be unable to escape it
.
He’d promised to escort his sister, Hannah, in her first London Season. In preparation over the winter
,
Mother had dragged him to afternoon teas and the morning calls she and Hannah made to their neighbors in the village near Bridgethorpe Manor
.
Dull, precisely timed events where the conversations were by rote up to the moment someone let slip she’d heard
news
. No matter on whom the juicy tidbit focused. All other voices in the room silenced so the speaker’s slightest inflection could be heard.

It was all too much for a man to bear.

David wound through the milling people on his way to the stables. He found his groom
,
Peter, in the stall with Triton, just completing his work
.
As the boy gathered his tools, David patted the bay’s shoulder. “How is he this morning?”

“Right as always,” said Peter. “He’s got a bit of the devil in ’im. He’ll be after showing them other horses who’s king.”

“Just as long as he wins. I’m counting on him.”

Peter put the tools into a bag and opened another, removing the carefully folded shirt made in the colors of Fernleigh Stud, the orange body with yellow sleeves. He donned the garment and the black hat that completed the uniform.

David stepped back as the youth saddled the horse and then freed the reins from the iron ring on the side of the stall. Together they led Triton out of the stables and to the examination area. Other grooms and horses milled about in preparation for the race. David glanced at the schedule. “We’re entered in the third race. You’ll have him warmed up?”

“Of course, sir. He’ll be ready to race ’is best, never worry.”

Peter’s cocky grin said his boss always worried, but David didn’t reprimand the lad. Peter was the best groom and rider he’d come across, with a natural knack for understanding what a horse was thinking. He could bring more out of an animal than any of the trainers they’d paid good money to, and the animals seemed calmer around him.

“You see that he does race his best,” David called out with a growl. A useless effort. There was no sense trying to sound more authoritative when Peter knew who paid his wages, and showed due respect when the situation called for it.

Assured his horse was in good hands, David crossed the grounds, nodding and calling greetings to those he recognized. His brother Adam, Viscount Knightwick
,
should have arrived by now. As he scanned the gathering crowd, his gaze landed on the last face he wanted to see at the Spring Meeting, or any other race event.

Northcotte.

Blast it
.
David’s gut knotted at the sight of the man. Ducking behind a pair of gentlemen walking in the earl’s direction, David darted around the corner of a building where he could eavesdrop without being noticed. He peered out into the lane
.
Robert Hurst, Lord Northcotte, stood with a particularly handsome young lady, and their sharp exchange reached David’s ears
.

The young lady folded her arms across her chest, and the tiny, pale blonde ringlets framing her face trembled with tension. “I am going to ride him. No one will know. I’ve trousers in the stable, and I can wear Bruce’s shirt and cap. With my hair tucked up, no one will recognize me.”

Northcotte jerked her arm. “You will not consider it. Do you want to risk everything I’ve left? I’ll find a jockey and Patriot will be entered as planned. You may tell Bruce his services are no longer needed.”

“I’ll do no such thing! That boy needs the wages for his family, and it’s not his fault he is ill. You cannot hire some stranger to ride Patriot. You know he’ll never allow a strange man on his back. I must be the one to ride him or we may as well scratch him from the race.”

“I’ll hear no more of this, Joanna. Go find Mother and let me handle this.”

Northcotte released her arm and strode off toward the stables. The young lady must be his sister, Lady Joanna. She stood for a moment and watched him go, then spun on her heel and stomped off in the opposite direction.

David smiled at her forceful steps in the dirt. She seemed much like Hannah. Stubborn, impulsive, and too daring by half. He chuckled and shook his head. Those qualities could make Hannah’s search for a husband drag on for years. Even her beauty would not compensate for her strong character in the minds of many men. He’d have to make certain Mother didn’t expect his services as chaperone to run beyond one Season.

Northcotte’s sister had to be dicked in the knob to suggest she wear trousers and ride in the race. Northcotte had the right of it—he’d be disqualified, and laughed out of the Jockey Club books, if not actually banned from competing. If Hannah ever dared such a thing, David would have her sent back to Bridgethorpe Manor for the remainder of the racing season.

Shaking his head, he followed the pretty blonde in the direction of the paddock, where he found Knightwick leaning on the upper rail of the fence. Peter and Triton loped around the space, getting warmed up before the races began. The three-year-old horse’s gait was long and even, covering the ground with no effort.

As he reached the fence, David slapped Knightwick on the shoulder. “I believe we have the winning horse this year.”

“You’ve said as much these three years past,” Knightwick replied with a teasing grin
.

“But this year I’m right. Triton has the heart of a winner. He loves to be out front. Start him behind the other colts and he’ll run that much faster to best them.”

Knightwick shook his head. “His chest is narrow, he’s willful and as likely to turn in the opposite direction as run the course. We never should have bred his dam. I’m rather surprised she let the Black Knight close enough to cover her.”

“You’re nit-picking. Triton is the horse we’ve been waiting for.”

Neither brother completed the thought aloud…Triton was the horse they were counting on to save their stables after the death of Zephyr, their father’s prize-winning stud, six years ago
.

David absently tapped his fingers on the fence rail while observing the other animals circling before them. “Did the trip to London with Mother and Hannah pass uneventfully?”

“Yes. Hannah chattered the entire trip.” Knightwick offered his brother a wry glance. “Rather convenient of you to leave a week early so you couldn’t accompany them.”

David grunted. “I promised Mother I’d arrive in Town in time for Hannah’s first ball, and would attend as many assemblies as I can. But first she must be outfitted, presented in court and all that sort of feminine thing. I’m not going to miss a race meeting this spring, not when I’m so confident in Triton.”

“I’ll wager Mother said you are too much like Father in that.”

Laughing, he agreed. “I ask you, what purpose do I have in London? Mother is there to chaperone. I’ve no wish to see which ladies are on the hunt. Nor do I care to be packed into the crowded assemblies filled with the stench of too many bodies and liberally applied perfumes. I’d much rather be in a stall filled with the more natural scent of
eau de cheval
.
”

Knightwick glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Maybe you’ll find one of those bodies belongs to a lady you wish to know better.”

“Not bloody likely. You have yet to take a bride, and you’re the one with the responsibilities. My only concern is this.” He waved an arm at Triton. “He and Lumley’s Lass will be my primary focus until the final race meeting this year.”