The Duke's Legacy (11 page)

Abbey realised her mistake immediately. By defending Lord Denver she had aroused Lord Evans’s suspicions along with his jealousy. He paced the room, his hands clutching the lapels of his beautifully tailored hunting coat, scowling at nothing in particular.

“My advice to you is to beware. The man has no morals. He thinks nothing of turning young girls’ heads with his rather obvious charm simply to amuse himself. He doesn’t stop to consider that ladies unused to the habits of the
ton
might take his flirtatious manner seriously, causing them to harbour unrealistic expectations.”

Abbey gaped at him. Was he actually trying to warn her off simply because she’d defended him? Apart from their brief exchange during the music last night, she and Lord Denver had kept their distance. Had Abbey somehow given herself away? It was a timely reminder that no action or gesture of hers ever went unnoticed.

“Really,” Lord Evans said, sounding angrier than Abbey had ever known him to be, “it’s just as well he’ll soon be on his way, or else I shouldn’t be able to help giving him a piece of my mind.”

Abbey had had quite enough of this. “The rest of the party will be waiting for you, Lord Evans,” she said.

“Then I shall bid you adieu.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it with considerable ardour. “For now.”

The ladies not forming part of the hunting party breakfasted in their chambers. Abbey thought that to be just as well since she needed time to recover from Lord Evans’s jealous tirade. Fuming still, she toyed with a slice of toast, wondering when Lord Denver would deign to appear. She didn’t have to speculate upon the matter for long since the door opened almost as soon as Lord Evans quit the room and Sebastian Denver, resplendent in a blue coat and patterned silk waistcoat, walked through it. Ignoring the surge of excitement that lanced through her, she inclined her head in his direction and offered him a neutral smile.

“Good morning, Lord Denver. I trust you slept well.”

“Thank you, yes.”

“And how is poor Mr. Hodges this morning?”

“Unfortunately his condition hasn’t improved.”

“Oh dear.” Abbey dared not meet his eye, conscious of the servants in the room listening to their conversation with avid interest. “I did warn you that Mrs. Burton’s remedies often take time to become effective.”

“Indeed you did.” Lord Denver strolled towards the sideboard. It contained an extensive array of covered dishes and he devoted his attention to the selection a substantial breakfast. Apparently satisfied with his choice, he returned to the table and seated himself directly opposite Abbey. “Your uncle kindly offered me the loan of one of your grooms to drive me to my hunting box.”

“Really?”

“He expressed concern that I would miss the best of the sport, what with it being the opening week of the season.”

“How thoughtful of him.”

“Wasn’t it. He suggested Hodges remain here until he recovers, and your groom should return with my carriage for Hodges to drive on when he’s fit enough.” He paused slice into a sausage. “If I didn’t know better, I might think someone was anxious to be rid of me.”

“Lord Evans isn’t your biggest fan.”

Lord Denver arched a brow. “Why ever not? I’ve done nothing to him.”

Abbey dismissed the servants and related the substance of her earlier conversation with that gentleman.

“He wouldn’t be sorry to see me gone, leaving the field clear for him.”

“What do you mean?” Abbey blinked her surprise. “Surely you don’t suspect Lord Evans of wishing me ill.”

“Not at all.”

“Then have the goodness to explain?”

***

Sebastian regarded her for some time before responding.

“Evans will be pleased to see me gone because he’ll then have no serious competition for your favours while you’re under the same roof together.”

Lady Abigail blushed scarlet to the roots of her hair, as though the notion was entirely new to her. Sebastian observed her with amusement, and a mounting desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her witless. His hands itched to caress the enticing curves that even her high-necked morning gown made a poor job of concealing. Remonstrating with himself to behave, he returned his attention to his breakfast.

“Are you planning to ride this morning?” he asked.

“I was about to change for that very purpose.”

“Then if you can provide me with a mount I’d be pleased to accompany you.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

No, darling, the pleasure will be all mine
.

She excused herself, motioning Sebastian back into his chair when he made to stand.

At the stables a short time later they discovered all Abbey’s string had been claimed by her guests. Their own mounts had suffered a series of mishaps the previous day—a lost shoe, a strained fetlock and an open saddle sore were just a few of the problems described by the head groom. The only mount remaining was Warrior, an irascible stallion whom few could master. The magnificent beast was in a particularly foul mood that morning and his teeth flashed at anyone foolish enough to approach him.

“He has just recovered from a swollen hock and isn’t sound enough to withstand a full day’s hunting,” Lady Abigail explained. “The poor chap feels neglected.”

“That will never do.”

Sebastian examined the beast and liked what he saw, even though the stallion had worked himself up into a sweaty temper. He kicked at his stable door like a beast demented, tossing his head and rearing up when any of the lads attempted to approach him. He had energy to expend, clearly resented being cooped up and was in danger of inflicting further injury upon himself if he continued with his rebellious behaviour.

“Let me have a look at him,” Sebastian said.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, my lord,” the head groom replied. “He can be a tricky devil when he’s riled.”

Sebastian laughed. “So can I so we ought to make a good team.”

Winking at Lady Abigail, Sebastian stationed himself sideways-on in front of Warrior’s door, just out of range of his wildly snapping teeth. He made no attempt to touch the horse but simply stood stock still, whispering quietly to him, his eyes lowered in a non-threatening stance. Warrior continued with his tantrum, but eventually appeared to understand this latest human wasn’t about to be intimidated and his irritation gradually turned to curiosity. He stopped attempting to remove chunks from Sebastian’s arm and instead dropped his head, snorting as he weaved too-and fro in the confined space of his box. Sebastian continued to speak soothingly to the horse and offered him the flat of his hand, which Warrior inspected thoroughly. Having satisfied himself that Sebastian passed muster, Warrior permitted him to enter the box and place a saddle on his back.

“Stay here for a moment,” he said to Lady Abigail as he led the horse out.

“Take care,” she said as Sebastian prepared to mount. “He has a tendency to deposit all his would-be riders on the ground.”

Sebastian flashed a cocky grin and swung his leg over the horse’s back. Warrior took off at a flat-out gallop before he could secure his second foot in the stirrup. Sebastian made no move to check him and simply sat firmly in the saddle, permitting Warrior to run in the direction of the open paddock gate. When not confronted by the battle of wills he’d obviously expected, Warrior lowered his head and put in an almighty buck. It lifted Sebastian, still with only one foot in the stirrups, straight into the air. A collective groan emanated from Lady Abigail and the gaggle of grooms who were watching the display. Presumably they expected him to fall.

“Is that the best you can do?” he asked the horse, laughing as he regained his seat and his balance.

He scrambled to find his other stirrup and, with a slight twitch of the reins, turned Warrior in the opposite direction. They were now circling the paddock with the horse leading with his off-fore, the direction he didn’t favour, causing his flat-out gallop to slow to a more manageable canter. Gradually Sebastian reined him in. His calm acceptance of the stallion’s bad behaviour caused the horse to remember his manners at last and when Sebastian asked him to slow to a trot he complied with something akin to docility.

“That was mighty impressive, my lord,” the head groom said, opening the paddock gate for Sebastian to ride through it.

“Are you ready to ride now?” Lady Abigail enquired sweetly. “Or do you wish to show off a little more first?”

Sebastian laughed. “Glad to know you’re impressed.”

She shot a look over her shoulder. “I don’t recall saying any such thing.”

At the mounting block she sprang lightly into Sonnet’s saddle and preceded him from the yard.

“Do you wish to ride to the next valley and watch them move off?” Sebastian asked.

“No thank you.”

“I thought you enjoyed the spectacle.”

“I did, once. But I discovered yesterday that it’s lost its allure. What’s the point if I can’t participate? It’s a bit like being at a ball but not being permitted to dance.”

“Well, I certainly know how that feels,” he said, sending her a condemning look.

She giggled. “Sorry!”

Sebastian experienced a moment’s sympathy for the chit as she tried to disguise her feelings. All the ladies in residence at her hunting lodge, with the exception of her aunt and cousin, had taken to the field today—even Mary, the rector’s wife. Sebastian had observed their departure from his chamber window. Having now seen how at home Lady Abigail was in the saddle, he suspected she was a far superior horsewoman to any of her guests. Lord Bevan’s well-meant caution was misplaced when it came to the question of his niece hunting.

Sebastian didn’t voice his thoughts and made do with inclining his head. But he had made up his mind. Today, just for an hour or two, Lady Abigail would forget all about the restrictions placed upon her—about duty and expectations and about the people who looked upon her with murderous intent. Instead she would disregard the rules and enjoy being carefree, with nothing more taxing on her mind than the obstacles she would soon be asking Sonnet to clear.

Today she would cease to be an outsider and would follow the hunt.

“Which coverts are they likely to draw first?” he asked.

“The tradition is to move south, towards the edge of our land here, and follow the trail to Finders Bottom.”

“I see.”

They rode along side by side, Sebastian seeking ways to distract himself from the growing attraction he felt towards this most unlikely of females, whose haunting, aesthetic beauty had been responsible for disturbing his repose every night since making her acquaintance. Annoyed by his apparent inability to dislodge images of her flashing eyes from his sub-conscious, Sebastian placed the blame squarely at her door. Indeed, whenever she appeared at her most vulnerable, as she did at that moment, he was powerless to prevent his mind from wandering in any number of grossly unsuitable directions. He reminded himself that he had one purpose, and one purpose only, for being here and vowed anew to discover the identify of her foe without inventing reasons to procrastinate. He would ensure her safety, remove himself from her life and forget all about her.

“I believe you have something to tell me,” he said.

“Yes, about my cousin, Charles.”

“What about him?”

“It probably means nothing at all.”

“I can’t know what it means unless you tell me. Lady Abigail, you must think it important or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

She turned to look at him, the strength of character he knew she possessed evident in her expression. “You’ll recall my telling you that on two occasions he’s tried to alter the nature of our relationship.”

Sebastian laughed. “He of the wet fish kisses, if memory serves.”

“That’s right, but when my godfather and his family arrived yesterday I noticed the strangest thing. Charles had no particular wish to single me out—”

“A fact that was immediately apparent to you, since the rest of the unattached gentlemen most certainly do.”

“Well yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“It was my godfather who quite blatantly pushed Charles in my direction, even insisting that he miss the opening meet yesterday and remain with me instead. It was obvious he would have much preferred to take to the field but he didn’t dare to defy his father. Anyway, as soon as we were alone together we immediately fell back into our friendly relationship. He made no attempt to flirt and thankfully there was no kissing.”

“Now that is interesting.” Sebastian removed one hand from the reins and rubbed his chin as he thought about it. “Well done for making the connection.”

“What connection?”

“That your godfather wishes you to make an alliance with his son.”

“Yes, even I had managed to draw that conclusion, but I still don’t understand why.”

“Nor do I. Not yet.”

Sebastian added this news to the information Anthony had supplied about the purpose of Lord Wilsden’s loans from the duchy, wondering if there could be a connection. There had to be, but Sebastian was damned if he could see it.

“Is there something you’re…oh my goodness!”

Sebastian had deliberately engaged her attention and she could only just have realised they had taken a path that would lead directly towards the first covert the hunt was likely to draw. The distant sound of the field in full cry caused her to look at Sebastian in confusion.

“We’ve taken the wrong path,” she said, making to turn back.

“Not if you wish to join the chase.”

She looked away from him. “You know that’s not permitted.”

“Do you always do as you’re told?” he asked, a taunting edge to his voice. He observed the hunger for excitement in her expression as she gazed in the direction of the field. Her blood was up, she wanted to be part of the chase and it wouldn’t take much for her to capitulate. Sebastian pushed home his advantage. “Who’ll notice if we join the back of the field for an hour? Come, Abbey,” he whispered, his voice a provocative challenge as her name escaped his lips for the first time. “Shake off the shackles and be yourself for a while. Your uncle’s right to protect you, but he’s overestimated the dangers of the hunting field. You’re a far better horsewoman than all your female guests. Besides, you’ll come to no harm when in my care.”