Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (3 page)

The dowager Marchioness of Riverton had given a house party. 
Vanessa had needed to gain access to the estate, so she’d posed as a poor,
distant relation from the north.   Her assignment was to recover a small chest
hidden away by a French operative who’d been tracked to the general vicinity of
Riverton Farms.   It was hoped that the chest contained papers that would
reveal the identity of one or more officials in the British government who’d
secretly been allied with the French.  The war might be over, but there were
still traitors to be found.

No one in the Riverton family had been under suspicion, but
the only way for her to search the property had been to have complete access to
it as a guest.  Her mission had taken on even greater urgency when two mercenaries
arrived at the party, posing as a visiting scholar and his sister.  Frederick
Mortimer and Portia Cassidy had attended the party under assumed names, then
escaped with the chest.  Vanessa was well acquainted with both of them.  She
knew the chest was now on its way to the highest bidder, which almost certainly
wouldn’t be His Majesty’s government. 

There had been another guest at the Riverton party who’d
attracted Vanessa’s interest, but for a wholly different reason.  Lord Arthur
Kellington had accompanied his sister Elizabeth to the estate.  Vanessa was
well aware of the man’s reputation.  Arthur Kellington, like his brothers
William and Henry, was one of the
ton’s
most eligible bachelors.  He was
handsome, charming, popular among ladies both young and old – and all ages in
between – and liked by just about everyone, save for the occasional jealous
husband.  He had a reputation as a gamester, but he rarely played deep and
always paid his debts on time.  The worst that could be said about him was that
he drifted through life.  Perhaps it was because he lacked the responsibilities
of his brother the duke.  But so did his second eldest brother Ned, who had recently
settled into the existence of a prosperous landowner with his wife and daughter
in the country.  And from all accounts he was more than happy with his lot in
life.  Now, with Elizabeth’s recent engagement, it seemed just about everyone
in the Kellington family was settling down or, at the very least, growing up. 
Except for Lord Arthur.

Physically, the man was just as handsome as he’d been
reported to be.  He was well over six feet tall.  The top of Vanessa’s head
barely came up to his shoulder.  He had light brown hair and brown eyes that
were ringed with amber.  He was thin, but his body was highly conditioned.  His
thighs were muscled and he moved with the lean grace of a predatory cat.   Even
if Lord Arthur didn’t always temper his gaming impulses, his body was a prime example
of discipline and control.

The first time they’d met, he’d interrupted her search for
the chest.   She’d tried to talk her way out of it, but he had an unnerving
presence and was much smarter than the average peer.  With his suspicions
aroused, he’d rarely let her out of his sight after that.  In the end, she’d
been forced to tell him her real purpose for being at the party.  When Mortimer
and Cassidy escaped with the chest, he’d offered to chase after them with her. 
But she’d fled the house before dawn and taken his horse to avoid that very
thing.   She told herself it was to protect him.  But she wasn’t sure that was
all there was to it.  Vanessa had been attracted to him.  Very attracted to
him.  And she couldn’t risk acting on her impulses.

As for the small matter of taking his horse, he really shouldn’t
mind.  She was only borrowing it, and the blasted animal was so stubborn she
was very likely doing Lord Arthur a favor.

She was currently seated astride the great bay gelding so
whimsically named Merlin.  He’d taken her through miles of Kent at great speed,
rarely even stopping for water.  But from time to time, he’d decidedly shown a mind
of his own.  Currently, that mind was fixated on watching a squirrel run up and
down an oak tree.  Merlin made no move to chase after it.  Indeed, for the past
quarter of an hour, the horse had given no indication he was even capable of movement,
other than to occasionally flick his ears.

Vanessa had tried gently kicking him with her heels,
whispering nonsense into his ears about how there would be more squirrels up
the road to see, and even cursing a blue streak to see if the horse could be
shocked into moving.

But, alas, he continued to perform his very best imitation
of a statue.

Vanessa had come so close to catching up with Mortimer and
Cassidy, but the trail had now grown cold and she was left to plan her next
move atop a stationary horse.

She imagined Lord Arthur’s reaction if he could see his
beloved Merlin right now.  She could almost hear his laughter.  And then she
did hear it.  She turned to see the incredibly handsome Lord Arthur Kellington
riding toward her at a slow walk, as if it were just another afternoon in Hyde
Park.  And he was laughing at her.

*                    *                    *

At last
, thought Arthur as he finally came within
sight of Tara and Merlin.  He’d spied them earlier after a frantic day of
riding to catch up.  Merlin’s hearing was such that it had only taken a few
whistles to convince the horse to slow down then wait for him. 

He’d been out of his mind with worry ever since discovering
Tara hadn’t waited for him.  Anything could happen to an unaccompanied female,
even when she wasn’t chasing two villains who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.  He
looked at her now, seated astride Merlin and looking torn between wanting to
flee – which would be impossible without Merlin’s cooperation, which didn’t
seem to be forthcoming – and desiring to take aim at him with one of her
pistols, which she no doubt carried in her bags and most likely on her person. 
Just where she might stow a weapon suddenly became a most intriguing thought. 

She was wearing lads’ clothing.  If she thought it disguised
her form, she was very much mistaken.   Her full breasts, which fit so well in
his hands in any number of fantasies, pressed against the lawn of the shirt. 
Her nicely rounded hips would make a corpse take notice.  If she thought anyone
save a blind man would be fooled, she was quite mistaken.  And the blind man
would very likely smell the intoxicating scent he associated solely with her.

Her fiery red hair was barely contained by the cap and her curls
were all but cascading beneath it.  While he was too far away to see the
brilliance of her sapphire blue eyes, her frown was all too visible.  She was rather
out of sorts with him.   Which was fitting, since he was very much not in
charity with her, either. 

In truth, he hadn’t been himself ever since meeting her.  She’d
had a singularly unsettling effect on him.  Part of it was her unusual
occupation with the Home Office.  None of the females he associated with in
London had anything approximating a profession.  Well, other than the actresses,
opera dancers and courtesans.   The only lady he knew well with a respectable
profession was Ned’s wife, Jane, who was the
de facto
surgeon in their
shire.  He respected Tara the same way he did his sister-in-law.  But,
thankfully, he didn’t want to pull Ned’s wife onto the nearest flat surface
every time he saw her.    

Tara had curves – real curves – in all the right places. 
She had the most kissable lips he’d ever not kissed.  And that rankled.  At no
point had the woman let him kiss her, nor indicated she was even interested in
him that way.  Arthur wasn’t conceited or, at least, not overly much, but as
the son of a duke he’d never wanted for female company.  Ladies of the
ton
tended to throw themselves at him and his brothers.  But Tara Rennard had not
shown the slightest sign that she might like even a kiss on the hand from him.

He was going to have to rectify that.

“Having a problem, Miss Rennard?” asked Arthur, once he was within
speaking range.  At the sound of his voice, Merlin tossed his head then began
walking toward Arthur, despite Tara doing everything in her power to convince
the horse to flee in the opposite direction.  She finally gave up when the two
horses were inches away from each other.

“Your horse,” said the lady through gritted teeth, “is one
of the most exasperating animals it has ever been my misfortune to….”  She
groaned as Merlin nudged Arthur with his great head in an obvious bid to be
rubbed.

“To what, Miss Rennard?  To steal?” asked Arthur as the long
fingers of his elegant hand stroked Merlin’s head.  “Just how many horses have
you stolen?”

“I did not ‘steal’ Merlin, as my note to you made perfectly clear. 
I simply ‘borrowed’ him until such time as I am able to return him to you.   A
task I am only too happy to perform right now, if you will kindly lend me the
horse you’re riding in exchange.”

“The horse I am currently riding is from Riverton’s
stables.  I hesitate trusting you with the marquess’s property given your
criminal tendencies,” said Arthur, whose gaze had settled on how little her
shirt disguised the underlying curves.

“I do not have criminal tendencies, other than the
overwhelming urge to shoot you,” she countered.

That brought his gaze back up to hers.  “Since I suspect
those saddlebags contain any number of pistols to do the job, I am sufficiently
chastened.  But not enough to give you Riverton’s horse.”

“But I would return Lord Riverton’s property as soon as
possible.  I am sure he’d be pleased to be of assistance to the Crown.”

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled,” said Arthur, aware that
dismounting to switch horses would make the state of his arousal quite clear. 
An arousal that began as soon as she came into range, then hardened painfully
when he saw her in breeches.

“Excellent,” she said.  “Please convey my thanks to the
marquess when you return.”

“I was speaking in a sardonic manner.  As someone whose very
survival depends on understanding human behavior, you may want to mark the
difference.  Especially since you and I will be in close contact and, alas, I fear
my sardonic side may appear once again.  You can give Riverton your thanks when
we see him again.  But I am coming with you.”

“Impossible, as I will not work with a civilian,” she said. 
Especially one that affects me like you do.
  Her insides had been acting
peculiarly since she first caught sight of the exasperating man seated so
elegantly on Riverton’s horse.  The thought of continuing the journey with him
was too overwhelming to even consider.

“Then think of me as enlisted in your cause, but without
having filled out all the relevant papers.  What is your name?  The real Tara
Rennard is a distant relative of Riverton’s.  But you are not she.”

 “I am sure my real name does not signify.”

Arthur grinned.  “As much as I hate to argue with a lady, I
must say it signifies very much to me.”

She hesitated for a moment then said “Anne.”

“I should have been more specific.  Your real name, if you
please.  And before telling me Anne is your real name, I must remind you that I
spend a great deal of time at card tables assessing whether the players around
me are telling the truth.  Just now, you were not.”

The man was beyond vexing.  “At the risk of offending your
rather oversized…”

“I see my reputation does precede me,” Arthur interrupted,
with a naughty grin.

“…opinion of yourself,” she continued, ignoring his risqué
comment as best she could.  “I must point out that you just spent several days
at a house party with two criminals and an agent for the Home Office and didn’t
suspect a thing.”

Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that unwillingly showed
itself.  “Let’s just say I was distracted by your beauty, wit and charm – only
two of which are currently in evidence.  Lest you not take my meaning, I shall
tell you your beauty, as always, is on display and allow you to guess whether
wit or charm is temporarily at sea.  Your name, please.”

She hesitated one moment more then relented.  “Vanessa Gans.
 Now, I must once again insist that you switch horses with me then trot on back
from whence you came.”

“My dear Miss Gans, I rarely trot and almost never obey
orders.  Tell me, what harm can there be in my accompanying you?”

“It will be a dangerous mission.”  She knew that to be true
on more than one level.

“All the more reason to have someone else along.  I may look
like a pampered lordling, but in my family physical activity was encouraged as
I was growing up.  And as an adult by age, if not always behavior, I ride,
fence and frequent Gentleman Jim’s boxing salon.  I am also accounted to be the
best shot in my family, which is more impressive than you might think, given
how competitive Lynwood and Lizzie are, and the fact that Ned worked as a spy
during the war.  I will be an asset to you, Miss Gans, despite my birthright.”

Vanessa had to admit there was merit in allowing him to accompany
her.  While she worked most of her missions alone, she’d rarely been in such a
dangerous position before and never so far from the reinforcements of London.  She
was going up against two experienced criminals.  Even if Arthur did nothing
more than scout, he’d be of assistance.  As for her unwanted attraction to him,
she’d just have to keep her distance.  She also suspected that while he was
probably up to the task physically, he likely didn’t have the mindset to see
the mission through to its conclusion.   Work such as hers often meant days of
tedium.  There would be no balls or evenings spent enjoying the attractions of
the
demimonde
, and she had the feeling he normally didn’t spend much
time away from such pursuits.  Furthermore, a man like him was used to luxury.  The
cold reality of sleeping in flea-bitten inns, eating cold food and riding for
days on end would likely put an end to his assistance.