Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (8 page)

“Certainly, Miss Sophia. I’ll go fetch ’em.” The groom tied off the horses and trotted back into the stable without a backward glance at his employer.

Hm. “I thought we might ride into Hanlith,” Adam decided. “There’s a seamstress there, and you could order some additional clothes if you wished.”

Sophia nodded. “I could afford two muslins,” she agreed. “But as I lost one of my shoes in the river, I think that should be my priority. I can wear my gown home again, but I can’t very well ride in the mail coach barefoot.” She flashed her infectious grin. “It would be very cold.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She’d come to his home because of his invitation and lost her things as a direct consequence of that. He had the power to replace her wardrobe with an even prettier one, and she wouldn’t allow it. Her, saying no to him. And he already knew he would give in to her wishes—at least as far as she was aware. The seamstress in Hanlith was going to be very busy, regardless. As to how to get the gowns to Sophia in a manner she would find acceptable—well, he would manage that, as well.

FOUR

In front of them the riding trail undulated like a narrow white ribbon, disturbed at the edges by the shrubs and trees and rocks that stood taller than the recent snowfall.

Sophia turned her head to look behind them. There the pathway was absolute carnage. She knew that only two horses and two pony-sized dogs had torn up the snow, but it might as well have been an entire brigade. “We wouldn’t be difficult to track, would we?” she said aloud.

Beside her on a massive black thoroughbred named Zeus, Adam followed her gaze. “I daresay even blind old Homer would be able to find us,” he agreed. When he looked back at her, he lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t a fugitive, are you?”

Not yet.
After all, in what her father had actually called a “generous gesture,” he’d given her until the middle of January to say her good-byes. Or rather, he’d given her until just before the nobility was set to return to London for the little Season. She knew that was what mattered to him, that she be gone before his cronies could resume carrying tales about her and The Tantalus Club.

And so she had seven weeks. Seven weeks before she was whisked off to Cornwall and the marital clutches of the Reverend Loines. She was the one who’d decided that venturing to Yorkshire was the best way to spend her remaining time.

The Duke of Hennessy had said that the vicar of Gulval had agreed to marry her to save her soul from the choices she’d made in life. As if she’d done poorly for herself. The difficulty was that she had a very good idea of how the vicar would save her. No dancing, no chatting with other females—much less men—no music, no reading any book but the Bible. She didn’t wish to be saved. She only wished to be left alone.

Adam was looking at her, so she summoned a smile. “I’m only a fugitive from Milly Brooks smothering me to death with helpfulness.” Abruptly she frowned, worried that she’d just caused trouble for the head-housekeeper-turned-ladies’-maid. “Though she does it well; I’m simply not accustomed to being coddled.”

“You’re on holiday. Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I am. Definitely.” Her sigh fogged the air in front of her, and she experimented with blowing out a circle as she’d seen men do with cigar smoke. Hm. Her effort looked more like a dented cloud that dissipated before she could examine it too closely.

“What are you doing?” the duke asked, his gaze on her rounded mouth, and his expression … intrigued.

“I’m attempting to make a fog circle.”

“Ah. Of course you are.”

Bending forward, Sophia patted her mount on the side of the neck. A few random bits of snow kicked up by the pretty chestnut mare’s hooves fell back to the ground. “Whose horse is this?” she asked.

“Copper? She’s yours.”

Clearly he’d misunderstood. “I mean, who generally rides her? She’s very calm and gentle. You ride that beast, so who does the mare belong to?”

“Many of my guests enjoy riding, and not all bring their own mounts. I keep twenty or more horses here.” He reached over, adjusting her right hand on the reins. “Copper likes you, and you like her. Therefore, she’s now yours.”

Sophia scowled. “You can’t simply give me a horse.”

“I just did.”

Risking holding the reins with one hand, she jabbed a finger into his very solid shoulder. “That would be just as bad as purchasing me clothes. Even worse, because a horse is more expensive.”

For a moment he gazed across the glinting white landscape. “You said you have three pounds, eight pence, with you, yes?” he commented.

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re purchasing Copper from me. The price is three pence, and I’m providing boarding in London because you’re such a damned fine bargainer.”

The fact that she truly didn’t need a horse in London evidently didn’t matter. And she hadn’t yet gathered the nerve to tell him that she wouldn’t even be returning to London. She’d said her good-byes to her friends at the Tantalus. And she doubted the Duke of Greaves would care to listen to her tale when he had pressing concerns of his own, anyway. “Clearly I am a formidable negotiator, since all I said was ‘no.’”

Adam chuckled. “Exactly.”

“But why are you being so generous?”

“I do very few good deeds,” he responded promptly, “so I may not be very proficient at it. I like you, and I can certainly afford it. Does there have to be an additional reason?”

Her mind seized on the middle part of his statement. He liked her. Other than her fellow employees at The Tantalus Club, she hadn’t given a fig in a very long time what other people thought of her. But she couldn’t deny that it was very nice to hear him say such a thing, unprompted. “I don’t suppose there does,” she conceded.

“Then you owe me three pence.”

Sophia shook herself free of her future miseries and grinned. This was today, and today was turning out to be quite grand. “I’m good for it.”

“We’ll see about that.” With a smile of his own, he gestured at a rise to their right, just off the main trail. “Let’s stop over there.”

She allowed herself a happy sigh at the thought of stopping and climbing down from the horse for a few minutes. Her bottom would certainly appreciate it. “How close are we to Hanlith?”

“It’s just over the hill.” Swinging down from the saddle, Adam stepped into the knee-deep snow. With it crunching beneath his steps, he made his way around to her side and lifted his arms.

“I am wearing trousers,” she said. “I think I can manage.”

“You’re still seated sidesaddle,” he returned. “Lean forward, and I’ll catch you.”

She certainly hoped so; otherwise she’d end up buried headfirst in the snow. With the dogs bounding around them, Sophia released the reins and held her hands down, leaning toward him until she could catch his shoulders. His hands swept around her waist, and then he rather effortlessly lifted her down to the snow.

Her boots sank into the soft powder. The sensation was quite odd, as if the ground itself was shifting and giving beneath her feet. But that was secondary to the thrill running up her spine as Adam kept his loose grip around her waist. She lifted her head to look up at him.

Light gray eyes met hers, his amused expression fading as his gaze lowered to her mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured.

Sophia nodded, abrupt tingling excitement running down her scalp to her fingertips. “Oh, good. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind about the wager.”

“Stop talking.” He took a half step closer, then leaned down and touched his mouth to hers.

For a moment everything was absolute silence. Silence and the warmth of his lips driving off the cold, sinking into her. She had no idea whether she was supposed to be bashful or brazen, but she very much wanted to kiss him back. Swiftly she slid her gloved hands up over his shoulders, pulling herself closer against his wool-coated chest.

Finally he lifted his head to look down at her. “I think I might wish to seduce you,” he said in a low voice. One of his gloved fingers brushed along her lower lip.

“As long as you don’t think you can purchase my affections, I think I might be amenable to that,” she returned, not quite steadily.

Men at The Tantalus Club had offered her things, gifts or money, and for the most part she’d refused—not out of prudery or some last hope of salvation, but because she liked the way her life had finally shaped. And frankly, because none of her would-be lovers had seemed all that interested in anything other than her appearance and her notoriety. As for their own appeal … well, she’d successfully resisted all but two of them. Those two had both been very brief mistakes.

His gray eyes assessed her. “Have I mentioned before that you’re a very unique female?”

“Yes, I believe you have.” She grinned again. “Feel free to continue complimenting me, however.”

Adam returned her smile; the chit’s good humor was damned infectious. He enjoyed things—people, conversation, a well-written book—but Sophia White had an indescribable way of finding … delight in nearly everything. For someone of her background, that was remarkable. And exceedingly arousing.

Belatedly he lowered the hand that still gripped her waist. “This way,” he said, offering his arm to escort her to the top of the shallow rise.

She was amenable, he was definitely amenable, and he wasn’t entirely certain why he didn’t immediately put her back on Copper and return them to the manor house. God knew he’d had lovers before, and ones he’d felt less attracted to than he did to Sophia. But at the same time and for lack of a better word, this was … different.

For one thing, neither of them had any immediate escape if an intimate relationship went poorly. For another, she’d already mentioned that she valued the freedom The Tantalus Club allowed her. Saying the word “mistress” would, therefore, be quite unwise.

Aside from all that, in his mind a mistress was for sex. And he’d already discovered that he enjoyed chatting with Sophia White. He might even go so far as to say that he enjoyed her company. It was all exceedingly odd, and he wasn’t ready to put any kind of place card on whatever this was.

She stopped, her fingers tightening on the arm he’d offered her. “Hanlith?”

Adam turned his gaze forward. At the edge of the frozen river Aire, and tucked into a shallow hollow between two low hills, lay a cluster of half a hundred shops, houses, inns, a church, and two large public stables. “Hanlith.”

“It’s so lovely!” she exclaimed, an already familiar grin touching her mouth and lighting her green eyes. “Someone should paint it.”

“Blake did, actually,” he replied. “In summer, though. The painting’s at Baswich House in London.”

“I’d love to see it. I can’t imagine the scene could possibly be prettier than this. Snowy roofs, smoke rising from the chimneys, light shining from the church windows. It’s … perfect.”

At the last second he refrained from pointing out that the snow at least covered the horse shit on the streets. It
was
pretty, he supposed, in a way he hadn’t before considered. Previously his first thought about Hanlith had been that it lay on the northwest edge of his property, and therefore belonged to him. He was the landlord, and all the citizens his tenants.

“Milliner, cobbler, or dressmaker?” he asked aloud, turning them back to collect the horses and the rollicking dogs.

“Cobbler,” she returned, refusing to be swayed from her decision that a pair of walking shoes would be eminently more practical than a new gown. “And Mrs. Simmons, if you have time. I would very much like to thank her for the loan of that lovely gown.”

Damnation.
He might have considered that of course generous-hearted Sophia would wish to thank her benefactor—even if she didn’t actually know who that might be. “I don’t know her address, but we can inquire.”

“Thank you.”

Taking her waist in his hands again, Adam lifted her back into the sidesaddle. Those trousers she wore continued to fascinate him, as did the notion of stripping her out of them. Thank Lucifer they were so close to the village, because the remainder of the ride was going to be damned uncomfortable.

Luckily the cobbler had a large wooden boot hung outside his shop, or Adam would have had no idea where to find him. Perhaps he needed to begin spending more time in Hanlith. The tall, narrow man who emerged from the back of the shop and immediately began dipping in an oddly birdlike combination of a bow and a curtsy had likely resided in Hanlith for his entire life, and Adam didn’t even know his name. It was an odd, uncomfortable sensation, to not know all the facts of the situation at hand.

“Oh, Your Grace,” the cobbler was warbling. “You honor me. I—my wife is at the butcher’s, but—do you wish a cup of tea? Or—no, we ate all the eggs for breakfast, but I can go to the bakery and fetch some biscuits, if you’d like. Or—”

“If everyone in Hanlith is so kind,” Sophia interrupted with a warm smile, “I shall never wish to leave. I would welcome a hot cup of tea. Adam?”

Tea with a cobbler. Him. “That would be grand.”

Sophia glanced sideways at him, then stepped forward to offer her hand to the cobbler. “How should I address you, sir?”

“Oh. Jenkins, my lady. Robert Jenkins.”

So she’d realized he had no idea to whom they were speaking. Taking a breath, Adam joined her. “Mr. Jenkins, this is Miss White, a dear friend of mine. She was in the mail coach yesterday, and lost her shoes in the river.”

“And you’ve come to me,” the cobbler breathed. “I am doubly honored.” For the first time Jenkins seemed to notice Sophia’s very unusual attire. “Lost all your luggage, did you, miss? My wife’s a bit—quite a bit—larger than you, but she’s a good hand with a needle and thread. If you n—”

She took both of the cobbler’s hands in hers. “I am very grateful, Mr. Jenkins, but that isn’t necessary. The people of Greaves Park and Hanlith are so generous, my heart can’t quite believe it.”

Because Adam watched so closely, he saw the rapid blink of her eyes, the color flushing her cheeks. Not only was she utterly sincere in her gratitude, but she was near genuine tears. The realization of just how … unfriendly life had truly been to Sophia White struck him like a punch to the gut. Her only sin had been to be born to a maid and a duke. And she’d paid for that mistake, someone else’s mistake, for the ensuing twenty-three years of her life.