The Diabolical Baron (22 page)

When she had finished, she turned to him, seeking
approval while quietly confident of receiving it. For all his intentions of moving carefully with her, he was im
pelled to take her right hand and kiss it. “Thank you,”
he said in his soft, deep voice. “Again you have shown
me a beauty undreamed of.”

Caroline reddened slightly but was in no hurry to
retrieve the hand he held. She felt a sensation of
warmth spreading through her, a warmth that seemed
an integral part of this man with his quiet strength and
deep-set eyes. A lifetime of anxiety over her unlady
like hobby had dissipated after a few minutes of his
appreciation and acceptance.

While she had always been shy, she had never had
much sense of the proprieties.  Some moments
passed before she realized how forward her behavior
was. The thought did not disturb her overmuch, but
she did let go of his hand, still feeling the imprint of
his lips tingling on her fingers.

“I really should leave now,” she said. “I just came to
collect my music case. If you like, I will leave it here so
you can copy some of the pieces.”

Richard escorted her home as a matter of course. It
was only when she was alone in her room before dinner that she permitted herself to think of that sweet
moment after he had kissed her hand. Her fingers
curled unconsciously as she remembered.

If only Jason
were more like Captain Dalton! He was so easy to be
with, so understanding. She didn’t feel awkward and
tongue-tied with him; there seemed no end of interest
ing things to discuss.

He had told her marvelous sto
ries of some of the people and places he had seen—not
just in Spain but Vienna, Ireland, Italy. Most of Europe,
in fact, as well as a brief spell in North America before
Waterloo. Perhaps that was why he was so relaxing to
be with; he had seen so much, and seemed quite willing to accept people on their own terms.

It was a re
freshing change; sometimes it seemed to Caroline that
everyone she knew had a different plan for how she should be. She never managed to satisfy her parents.
And Jason seemed to see her primarily as raw material
for molding into a comformable wife.

For a few minutes she let herself dream of what it
would be like to meet Richard Dalton if she weren’t
engaged, if her family had not been in such dire finan
cial straits. Underneath her dreaming was a thread of
rebellion; why was she the sacrificial lamb for the rest
of the family?

She had a mental image of herself bound
and bleating on a stone altar before a frowning pagan
god, and started giggling. She was sure that Lord Rad
ford would not appreciate the metaphor—but he did
make an excellent angry pagan god!

Chapter 10

Jason awoke at dawn and indulged himself with a
satisfied leonine stretch. It was good to be home in
his own bed after ten days’ absence.

He had intended
to return sooner, but some genuine business had
cropped up and delayed his return. He’d collected George Fitzwilliam in London and they had arrived
late the night before, after the rest of the household had
retired. Knowing George’s habits, he didn’t expect to
see him before ten o’clock even in the country.

He rose and looked out at the brightening sky. The
dawn chorus of birds sang industriously and the
Cotswold hills lay partially garbed in a pastel-tinted
haze. It had been one of the fairest summers in his
memory. The farmer in him wondered if there had been sufficient rain for the crops, but he firmly quashed the thought while he donned his riding clothes.

When he reached the stables his good mood was
threatened by the absence of his favorite horse, Caesar.
This early, even the stablehands were not stirring; cer
tainly it wasn’t a normal hour for exercising the stal
lion.

Perhaps one of the younger lads was stealing a
ride on the horse generally reserved for the master or
the head groom. Making a mental note to check into
the matter later, he saddled a large roan gelding he was
schooling as a hunter.

The morning fulfilled its promise as he cantered east
into the sunrise. He drew a deep breath of Wildehaven
air, thinking how surprised his London acquaintances would be to know how much he enjoyed being home in the country.

Though it was amusing to play the bored man of fashion in the city, that was only a facade, suitable for short stretches of time. He felt a fierce sense of connec
tion with his own land and could easily imagine de
fending it to the death in an earlier, more barbaric
century.

He was reveling in his pride of place when he saw a
horse cresting the hill above him. Caesar was readily identifiable by his size and gait, but he didn’t recognize
the rider silhouetted against the rising sun.

The slim
figure appeared to be one of the stableboys. Jason called
out and urged the roan uphill. Caesar’s rider reined
back, apparently torn between fleeing and staying in
the face of Radford’s obvious desire to intercept.

The rider stayed. Had he sought to escape, it would
have been difficult to catch him—Caesar was the
fastest animal on the estate and didn’t appear to be car
rying much weight.

The windblown red hair gave her away. Slim and
boyish, she was simply dressed in breeches and shirt
with her hair tied back by a scarf. As she eyed him with
the wariness of a lad caught in mischief, she looked even younger than the seventeen years she had when
first they met.

Still feeling expansive, Jason hailed her cheerfully.
“Good morning! I trust my favorite horse pleases
you?”

Jessica looked defensive. “You did give me the free
dom of the stables, my lord.”

“A freedom you have taken advantage of,” he said
with a pointed glance at her costume.

“I am sorry, my lord. I would never knowingly of
fend someone in his own home,” she said formally. The
effect was undermined when she couldn’t resist
adding, “Your absence was lengthy enough that I was
in danger of forgetting just whose home this is.”

He grinned. “I take it you are chastising me for my
failings as a host. Will you be pacified if I plead guilty
on all counts? I had not intended to abandon you and
Caroline for so long. I am not offended by your breeches. My grandmother often told me ladies had
more freedom in her day and riding astride was com
monplace. She found our modern manners tedious and hypocritical.” 

“Really?” Jessica said with interest. Then she remem
bered her formal role and said neutrally, “It is not my
place to chastise you, my lord.”

“While I appreciate your awareness of my exalted
rank, it is not necessary to say ‘my lord’ with every
breath you draw,” he complained.

“No, your lordship,” she said meekly, while her eyes
started to dance.

“Very well, madam,” he said with resignation. “I see
that formality is to be the order of the day. If Mrs. Ster
ling has had her fill of riding, would she consent to accompany Lord Radford back to his humble abode?”

Jessica finally gave in to her laughter. “There is noth
ing the least bit humble about either Wildehaven or its
owner! But I will be happy to accompany you in the
hope of an early breakfast.”

The horses fell into a leisurely pace as they rode side
by side. Jason eyed her uneasily. He had thought ab
sence would steady his nerves; there had been ample
time to reflect on her cruel and unfathomable behavior
so many years before.

Admittedly it was a shock to see
her so unexpectedly, but he had returned thinking him
self immune to her undeniable charms. Now he found her presence was unraveling the previous ten days of
work with shocking speed.

That lovely face looked so young and guileless that he was in danger of forgetting the intervening years. T
he same enchanted delight he had felt at the age of
twenty-one was beginning to steal over him again. He
knew she had grown and changed in many ways over
these past years, but he sensed that her essential spirit
was unchanged.

As was his.

Fearful of forgetting his obligations, not least of them
to this woman’s niece, he said coolly, “You would be better advised to choose a different horse. Caesar is not what one would usually consider a lady’s mount.”

Jessica laughed, refusing to take offense. “I am not
what is usually considered a lady.”

Jason said sternly, “You should not talk so of your
self.”

She shot a surprised glance at him. “Why ever not? I
have been called a good deal worse by any number of
people. ‘Fast,’ ‘loose,’ ‘strumpet,’ ‘keeps her husband under the cat’s paw,’ ‘hoyden,’ ‘hanging out for a rich
husband—’”

“Stop!” More calmly he said, “I am sorry if you
have been the target of too many old cats. I expect they
were jealous on behalf of their plain daughters.”

Jessica shrugged. “I am used to it. I found that I
could do nothing right, so I gave up trying. Fortu
nately, men have usually been more tolerant of my fail
ings.”

“I have no doubt of it,” he growled.

She reined her horse in, causing him to pull up. “You know, this is the most peculiar conversation.
I think we are fighting, but I am not sure why.” She
looked at him earnestly. “We will be related soon. It
would grieve me greatly to be at odds with Caroline’s
husband. Can we not cry friends?”

He looked at her with remote black eyes. “I never
wanted to be your friend.”

She shrank a little under his gaze but persevered.
“Once we were a great deal more than friends. I was young and foolish beyond measure and destroyed all
our might-have-beens. The past is beyond repair, but will you not accept that I wish you all possible joy in the future?”

He could not deny that earnest plea. He reached his right hand across to her. “Friends.”

She took his hand gratefully. “As a friend, may I
speak frankly?”

He smiled reluctantly. “Do you ever speak any other
way?”

She blushed and shook her head. “Alas, no. I am
afraid the good Lord was out of subtlety the day he as
sembled me. I expect that is why so many women find
me alarming.” She hesitated, then said, “I am not sure
how to begin, but pray remember that I speak as a
friend, and as an aunt.”

His eyebrows drew together forbiddingly. “You wish
to discuss my affianced wife with me?”

“Yes. It is
...
greatly to your credit that you have
fallen in love with Caroline. She has such a sweet and
loving nature, and a great talent as well. There is no
malice or anger in her. She has always been an exam
ple to me of what I should strive toward.”

“I will allow that she is a paragon if you will tell me
where this is leading,” he said dryly.

Jessica bravely soldiered on. “
While she has a great wisdom in some
areas, her experience of men has been limited and ... not such as to give her confidence. If you can be patient
and move slowly with her, she will be the most loving
wife a man could wish for.”

“And if I forget myself and unleash my vile animal
passions, I will terrify the wits out of her?”

By now Jessica was wishing she had never begun
this wretched conversation, particularly as it was im
possible to be with Jason without thinking of how
much she had loved his “vile animal passions.” “I
would not use quite those words, but it is near enough to what I meant.”

They were approaching the stables now and would
have only a few more moments of private conversa
tion. He said, “No doubt you mean well. It
would take a more hardened rake than I to force her
against her will. I’ve no wish for a wife who quakes in my presence. Your daughter has already
warned me that I would have her to deal with should I mistreat your niece.”

“Linda did that?”

He glanced at her. “In your London town house, be
fore you came downstairs. I was told in no uncertain
terms to behave or I would suffer her wrath. The
women in your family appear to have a uniformly poor opinion of me.”