Recklessly Yours (21 page)

“Lady Sabrina, may I come in?” Although the other woman had changed from her gown into her night chemise and her maid had taken down her curls, she looked wide awake. Still, Holly asked, “Or are you ready to retire?”

The young woman swung the door wider. “I can never sleep directly after a ball.”

Lady Sabrina invited her to sit in the easy chair beneath the window. Hoping she wasn't making a mistake, Holly wasted no time in getting to the point. “I need your help. In the morning at first light, I'll need a horse. Can you arrange it?”

At first Lady Sabrina simply stared back at her with a puzzled expression. Then she leaned back in her elegant damask-covered chair, a shrewd smile playing about her lips. “Does this have anything to do with my brother?”

Lady Sabrina was no fool, and Holly didn't attempt to lie. “I cannot tell you why I need a horse. I can only say that it is of the utmost importance. And that I will be indebted to you. Greatly so.”

“Hmm.” Beneath her satin dressing gown, Lady Sabrina crossed one leg over the other. “I couldn't help noticing that you disappeared from the ball earlier.”

“You are mistaken.” Holly shrugged a shoulder. “I didn't disappear. I simply grew tired of all the noise and heat.”

“Where did you go?”

“The library. It was an accident, really, my ending up there. I am unused to houses on so grand a scale.”

The other woman tapped manicured fingernails on her chair's carved arm. “Did you know my brother disappeared from the ballroom as well?”

Holly bit back a groan of impatience. Whatever rapport she believed she had established with this woman during their talk yesterday had been an illusion. She was beginning to believe the members of this family, all of them, took pleasure in toying with other people's feelings, while they themselves were incapable of sustaining a sincere emotion for more than a moment.

“One would assume if your brother left the ballroom,” she said evenly, “it was to join the guests playing whist in the card room.”

“One might, except I peeked into the card room. My brother wasn't anywhere to be seen.”

Holly rose to her feet. “I am very sorry I disturbed you, Lady Sabrina. I'll bid you good night now.”

“Oh, do sit down. And call me Sabrina. There is no need for such formality between us. Not when you come sneaking to my room in the middle of the night asking for favors.”

“I didn't sneak. I—”

“Please sit,” the woman said more gently, the mockery suddenly gone from her voice. “You shall have your horse in the morning.”

Holly sank back into the chair. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She drummed her fingers again; the smile returned to her lips. “He likes you, you know.”

Heat climbed into Holly's cheeks. “Pardon?”

“Don't be coy. Colin admires you. I can tell.” Her hands closing over the arms of the chair, she leaned forward. “Were you together tonight?”

When Holly hesitated, her cheeks scorching, Sabrina waved a hand in the air and sat back. “Never mind. It is none of my business and I suppose it is most disagreeable of me to tease you. My advice, however, is not to . . .” She heaved a sigh. “Not to put too much stock into it. Into
him
. He does like you, from what I can perceive. But that doesn't mean . . .” Something approaching a scowl sharpened Lady Sabrina's features. “We're none of us prone to tender feelings. We weren't raised on them. They aren't in our natures.”

“Your mother certainly seems agreeable.”

Sabrina pushed out a mirthless chuckle. “Mother is stretching her wings at present, playing at being the matriarch. But mark me, it shan't last. As soon as my father—”

The other woman said no more, but her reference to the duke sent a chill down Holly's spine. She thought of the bruise around the duchess's wrist. Sitting forward, she placed a hand on the other woman's knee. “My lady . . .”

“I told you, it's Sabrina. And never mind. You need a horse. I shall supply you with one. But there is a price to be paid.”

Holly braced herself. “Name it.”

“A truthful answer to one question, in so far as you may tell it.”

Holly gestured her acquiescence with an open hand, and triumph flashed Sabrina's blue eyes. “Does this clandestine ride at dawn have something to do with my brother?”

Holly sighed. “Yes.”

The lady surprised her by showing no hint of mockery or amusement. “Thank you for admitting it. Now then, you were very kind to me yesterday after the debacle in the paddock, and I shall be happy to return the favor.”

Something in her tone prompted Holly to ask, “Why do you dislike your brother?”

That produced a laugh. “Do I? I couldn't say. As far as I know, this is how brothers and sisters behave.”

“No, Sabrina. It is not.”

“No?” She gave her loose curls a toss that sent them tumbling down her back. “Well, it is how we Ashworths have always behaved.”

A sense of sadness swept over Holly. A family so at odds, they didn't even realize how contrary they were. She couldn't fathom it. When she thought of her own family, of the little spats she and her sisters sometimes engaged in, and how quickly they forgave and how staunchly they supported one another . . .

“I'm sorry for you,” she whispered, but Sabrina seemed not to have heard her.

“What time tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sunup,” Holly told her, then returned to her room.

C
olin tossed a few essentials into the valise gaping at the foot of his bed. His trip to Briarview would commence sooner than he had anticipated. He had planned to wait until after the Royal Meeting, and slip away while dozens of grooms and trainers led their racehorses away from Ascot.

His instincts, however, urged him to set out without further delay. True, by leaving tomorrow he would hazard bringing attention to himself, and thereby risk not only his family's interests in Devonshire, but, more important, those of every villager and tenant farmer.

By waiting he would incur even greater risk. Miss Sutherland and her questions . . . her furtive escapades through the stables and the house. Could she have somehow learned his secret?

For the life of him he couldn't see how. Still. . . .

A tap at his door scattered his thoughts. “Come in.”

An oblong wooden cask balanced on one palm, his valet shouldered his way into the room. “I've brought the requested items, sir.”

“I appreciate it, Kirkston,” he said as he took the box from the older man. “Did anyone see you entering my father's rooms?”

“Not a soul, sir. I made doubly certain no one was about before I slipped inside.”

“Good. Not a word of my plans to my family. I don't intend to give them much notice before I leave.”

“Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Not tonight. Good evening, Kirkston.”

“Good evening, sir.” With silent footfalls, the man retreated and closed the door softly.

The soul of discretion, Colin thought with satisfaction. It hadn't been for Kirkston's skill at pressing shirts or knotting cravats that Colin had taken him on after the valet's previous employer, Colin's uncle Reginald, had suddenly keeled over of an apoplexy. No, it had been for Kirkston's prudence and unerring loyalty, not to mention other, more singular talents.

He flicked the clasp on the casket and opened the lid. The double-barreled percussion pistol inside gleamed in its cushioned bed of deep blue velvet. Etched into the silver handle, his father's initials, a curling T and a bolder A, stared up at him as if to issue a challenge, as if to mock him. Did he have the fortitude to use this weapon if necessary?

He reached in, lifting the pistol and the velvet-covered tray on which it lay. In the deeper recess of the casket, his fingers closed around a pouch tied with a drawstring. He didn't need to open it. He could feel by the weight, and by the light clunking inside, that the bag held a generous supply of bullets.

Had he required a hunting rifle, he might have gone to the gamekeeper's lodge and requested one from several of the gun racks there. This weapon wasn't intended for stopping a fox in its tracks. This pistol was meant for taking down a man, and it allowed two opportunities of doing so. His father kept weapons such as these under strict control, in a locked trunk in his private suite. Didn't Thaddeus Ashworth trust his sons? Did he deem pistols too much of a temptation for them to be kept readily available? Colin smirked. Probably.

The security measures hadn't, apparently, posed a problem for Kirkston.

Tomorrow, in the late afternoon, Kirkston would deliver an urgent, albeit falsified, message from Colin's friend, Benjamin Rivers, Dean of Natural Philosophies at Cambridge University. It would speak of a sudden dispute between Ben and the board of trustees . . . Ben in danger of being sacked . . . Colin's immediate intervention required . . .

He felt a little guilty involving Ben, however indirectly, in his deception, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice. By suppertime tomorrow, he and the colt would be many miles from Masterfield Park.

Another knock at his door prompted him to tuck the pistol back into its box and close the lid. He shoved the box into his valise, shut that too, and pushed it far beneath the bed. “Come in.”

Sabrina, looking at least a decade younger in her dressing gown and beribboned nightcap, came into the room. The look on her face, however, was anything but childlike as she tilted her chin and regarded him with a haughty frown. “It's dreadfully late, Colin. What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“It's not so very late, at least not for you, my night owl.”

For an instant, a wistful, almost sad emotion darkened her eyes. He used to call her that when she was a child, but many years had passed since then. In fact, until that moment he had all but forgotten the pet name, bestowed upon a little sister who used to defy her governess by staying awake and sneaking out of bed to greet her older brother as he returned home from his late-night jaunts.

How little she had been then, no more than seven or eight, while he had been approaching twenty and enjoying his first taste of freedom during his holidays from university. However adult he had believed himself, he couldn't deny having savored the squeeze of those eager little arms welcoming him home.

Then one night his father had discovered Sabrina out of bed. . . .

Did his features betray the dismal memory? Perhaps, for she blinked and angled her gaze away. Her lips moved, and he could have sworn she released an oath beneath her breath.

His gut clenching, he crossed the room to her. “I merely wished to ask you to take special care of Lady Harrow and the misses Sutherland during their stay. I don't want them left on their own.”

She swung her face back to his and smiled, a gesture possessing far less humor than shrewdness. “No?”

“I want you to see that they are properly entertained. Do you have plans for them tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, Holly and I are taking an early-morning ride.”

He hadn't missed the significance of the disclosure. “Holly, is it?”

“Yes. She and I have reached an accord.” She shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “As one horsewoman to another.”

“I see. And later in the day?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason you wish me to keep them occupied?”

His senses sprang to the alert. The look on his sister's face, along with her questions, probed too near the truth. Which was that he wasn't leaving solely to protect the colt, or even the folk of Briarview. For he had no proof that Holly Sutherland or anyone else knew about the animal, no evidence of imminent danger other than a nagging sensation that he must leave.

But when he stopped to analyze that sensation, he could only admit it had less to do with the colt and everything to do with Miss Sutherland herself. If anyone was in danger, it was him. That had been amply proven tonight in the library.

He maintained an outward show of calm. “Don't be a goose. The Sutherlands are not merely visitors. Lady Harrow is Simon de Burgh's wife.”

“I know precisely who she is, and who her sisters are.”

He had the distinct impression they were holding two separate conversations, and that whatever notion Sabrina had seized upon had nothing to do with amusing their guests.

“Can I count on you, then?”

“I shall do my part,” she obliged grudgingly.

“Oh, and Sabrina,” he said when she started toward the door. “Miss Sutherland can be an impulsive rider. Make sure she doesn't head anywhere dangerous, such as the creek bottom between the hills. You know where I mean.”

She turned and answered with the full brilliance of her most charming smile. Which only heightened his worries.

 

Holly came to a halt in the stable yard, brought up short by the sight of Lady Sabrina waiting for her with two saddled horses.

“My lady, I'm afraid you didn't understand—”

“Sabrina. And I understood you perfectly well.”

“But this is something I must do alone.”

“And how did you suppose you would ride off all alone without raising suspicions? Do you not realize our grooms report to my brother everything that goes on here? He already knows we are going out—”

“You told him?”

“Of course I told him. If I hadn't, he would have wondered.”