The Englor Affair (9 page)

J.L. Langley

was the reason the admiral was here and not because he’d caught Lieutenant Benson spying? Or perhaps it really was only to inspect the base? No. Simon didn’t think so.

“There have also been a few murmurs about Deverell being married to a man, a prince or something. That has caused more than a few raised eyebrows and talk of moral reform.”

Wonderful.
Simon would bet his right testicle he knew who was leading that cause for reform…again. “The prince’s name is Aiden Townsend. He’s the third in line for the Regelence throne.” They reached the Serpentine and reined to a halt.

“It’s true?”

“It is.” Simon had learned that much from his informant on Regelence. The fact that Hawkins was married to a man made his visit even more puzzling. Hawkins had to know Englorians weren’t going to overlook it, even if he was a war hero. Simon swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. Gathering Cirilo’s reins, he waited for Dru.

She slid to the ground, gripped the reins and fell in beside him. “Do you expect trouble?”

Simon started walking, adjusting his stride to match hers. “I always expect trouble.”

It paid to be cautious, especially where powerful men like Admiral Hawkins were concerned. “If you mean because of public outcry over Hawkins’s marriage, no. The admiral is a powerful man because of his status in the IN. The ton might not like it, but they can’t do anything about it. And I seriously doubt a man like Hawkins gives a bloody damn if he’s cut by society.”

Dru snorted. “He”—she turned her head toward him, meeting his gaze—“nor anyone else should care about being unpopular over such a thing. It’s not against the law, last I heard.”

Simon ignored her taunt. There was no use in repeating the same argument. He was
not
marrying a man. “No. It’s not against the law.” And it would remain that way if Simon had anything to say about it. “But that will not stop certain members of the peerage from trying to make it so.”

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Mumbling something undoubtedly unladylike under her breath, Dru shook her head.

“Fine. Do you want to hear the rest of the gossip?”

Does it involve a very handsome and shy soldier?
What he wanted was to find out if Payton was going to be at the gym tonight, but that wasn’t something Dru would know and unfortunately neither did Simon. He didn’t even know Payton’s last name.

Several peers passed them going the opposite direction, some on horseback, others walking.

“Si? Where are you? You’re a million miles away.” Dru waved to a couple of ladies walking by with a groom in tow.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Tell me what other rumors are making the rounds this week.”

“Oh no.” She smiled brightly. “You aren’t getting out of it that easily. Who is he?”

“What?” No way was he telling Dru anything. She’d badger him for details and start making wedding plans. Besides, there was nothing to tell…yet. “I was just thinking about work. It’s a little hectic with this base inspection going on.”

Dru looked like she would argue for a moment, then she nodded. “Lady Carston is having an affair with Lord Grafton.”

“I thought she was seeing the Earl of Hopkins.”

“That was last month. Lord Paterson compromised Lady Sarah Foley and refused to marry her. Poor thing was sent to rusticate in the country.”

Sarah was a nice girl. He’d have to see if he could set her up with a fellow soldier.

“Anything else?”

Pursing her lips, Dru touched a gloved finger to them. “You were seen sneaking out of my townhouse at three in the morning last Wednesday.” She waggled her eyebrows.

A smile tugged at his lips. Last Wednesday he’d been at White’s with Wycliffe.

Sometimes the ton and their idiotic rumors annoyed him, but this wasn’t one of those times. The stories always amused Dru and as long as they didn’t hurt her—which wasn’t likely with her status in society—they helped quiet the more damning whispers about him. “Was I?”

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“Apparently.”

“Was I any good?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Dru chuckled.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The best piece of arse in Englor.” His lips twitched, but he kept from breaking into a smile.

Dru, on the other hand, failed miserably. She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh good. It’s nice to know I can still pick them.”

Simon lost it then and joined her guffawing.

When the mirth finally subsided to a few giggles, they’d made it to the wooded part of the trail. The cement path had narrowed and there was less traffic, but the sounds of people enjoying the park were all around them. “Are you ready to ride again?”

Dru stopped her horse. “Sure, if you can give me a boost up.”

Flipping his reins back over Cirilo’s head, Simon walked around the stallion to Dru’s side.

“Thank you for taking me riding.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re the only one I go riding with nowadays.” Dru bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well, you and Wycliffe. But Wycliffe would faint dead away if I even considered galloping, so I don’t go with him often.” She got quiet for a few moments, petting Cleo’s nose. “Anthony used to be terrified I’d fall. Do you know he even tried to get me to ride astride?” She handed him her reins. “And my parents think
I’m
scandalous.”

Taking the leather straps, Simon laid them over the horse’s neck and waited for Dru to come to him. His heart hurt for her. He’d always envied her relationship with Kentwood. He’d never have anything like it. He’d marry one day, but it wouldn’t be for love. “You miss him.”

She met his gaze. “Terribly.” With a sad smile and teary eyes, she sidled up next to him, holding her arms out for him to lift her.

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As he raised her, a loud thundering of hooves came from behind them, drowning out the rustling leaves and distant voices. Cleopatra backed away. “Whoa, girl.” Setting Dru back on her feet, Simon held his hand out to Cleo. “Easy, girl.”

He glanced toward the trail a few yards behind them, but because of the sharp turn and the stand of trees concealing the road he couldn’t see anything. The rapid clip-clop of hooves grew louder and Cirilo huffed out a breath, throwing his head up.

Simon caught Cleo’s bridle. “Drucilla, get out of the middle of—”

A large chestnut horse came barreling around the corner headed straight for them.

Simon dove at Dru, knocking her out of the running horse’s path.

They careened into the trees at the other side of the trail and ended up on the leaf-littered ground in a tangle of arms and legs with Dru on top of him.

“Bloody hell.” Simon pulled Dru up with him, dusted her off and swept the leaves from his uniform. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and the ridiculous feather, now broken, flopped over the bridge of her nose. “No, I’m fine. What the galaxy? Who was—? Oh no, your horse.” Her shoulders slumped as she stared down the road.

Damn.
Cirilo had run back toward the front gate. And the reckless rider had kept going, with his dark greatcoat flapping behind him. He never even looked back.
Bastard.

Cleo danced in place, snorting and flipping her head.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Simon picked up his cover off the ground and brushed it off before putting it back on his head.

“Yes. Thank you.” Dru fussed with her riding habit and hat. “I’d love to get a hold of that rider and give him a piece of my mind.”

She wasn’t the only one. But Simon was likely to do more than introduce the man to the sharp side of his tongue. After giving Dru a once-over and assuring himself she was truly fine, he stepped back onto the concrete path. He needed to calm their remaining horse before she bolted.

Holding out his hand for the mare to smell, Simon inched his way closer. “It’s okay, girl. Easy now.”

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A soft breeze blew leaves across the path, making them rattle and crackle. Cleo backed up a few steps, but Simon followed her. When the wind stopped, a steady clip-clop of hooves headed their way from around the blind corner. “Dru—”

“I’m out of the way,” she said softly, and her hand touched his shoulder.

Simon continued to gentle the bay. “Easy, girl.” Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted a dark blur and the clicking of horseshoes stopped.

“Markham and Baymore.” Dru sounded like she was gritting her teeth.

“Ah, Your Grace, up to mischief again I see,” a man chided. Leather creaked and boot heels hit the ground. “I assume this horse belongs to your friend?”

“Yes. Give him to me,” Dru said, just as Simon got close enough to grab Cleo’s bridle.

“Shh…” It took only seconds before she was standing in place allowing Simon to pet her nose. “Good girl.” Once he was certain she was calm, he turned.

Dru held on to Cirilo, her other hand on her hip, glaring at two men. Both were tall and appeared to be peers of the realm. One wore a light gray coat and held the bridle of a big roan horse. He wasn’t much older than Simon, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair and a large nose, but not big enough to distract from his handsomeness. The other gentleman was as tall as the first but thinner. His short mousy brown hair curled around the brim of his tan hat. He had piercing hazel eyes but was otherwise quite plain looking.

Expressionless, the first man studied Simon from top to bottom, sizing him up. There was such an air of spoilt aristocrat to him that Simon half expected the man to pull out a quizzing glass. After several seconds a slow smile spread across the lord’s lips and he bowed slightly. “Your Highness. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

So the man recognized him. Simon dipped his head. “Please call me Colonel. And you are?”

“Markham, the Earl of Markham. And this”—he indicated the thinner man—“is my associate, Lord Baymore.”

Baymore bowed. “A pleasure, Colonel.”

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Markham glanced at Dru, then back to Simon. “I trust you and Her Grace are well?”

“We’re fine. Thank you, milord,” Dru said dryly.

Markham dipped his chin. “Good, good. You could’ve been seriously injured. People have been trampled to death by horses, you know. You’re very lucky.” He met Simon’s gaze. “Beautiful horse you have there, Your High—excuse me, Colonel.” He smiled and looked over at Cirilo.

“Thank you. And thank you for bringing him back.”

“Not a problem. Baymore and I were just turning onto the path by the lake when we saw him bolt out of the trees. I caught him easily enough, assuming we’d meet up with a horseless rider down the road. I see I was correct. Now if you will both excuse us”—he mounted his horse—“we’ve got to get going if we’re going to make it to the House of Lords on time.”

“Thank you again, Lord Markham, Lord Baymore.”

Baymore tipped his hat. “Glad to be of assistance, Colonel.” Completely dismissing Simon and Dru, he heeled his horse, taking off in a gallop toward Rotten Row.

Markham followed.

Dru bristled, huffing out a breath. “Pompous jackanapes.”

Simon chuckled. They did seem a little self-absorbed, but no more than most men of their ilk. “They seemed nice enough.”

Scoffing, she handed Cirilo’s reins to Simon. “They are two of the lords calling for moral reform.”

He led her toward her horse, “Up you go,” and lifted her into the saddle. “Baymore must be a fairly new title. It doesn’t sound familiar.”

“He bought his barony. He was in trade. I don’t know the specifics but I believe your mother was behind him getting his title.”

That figured. The Baron probably held his mother’s gambling markers. “What happened to the old Earl of Markham?” Simon swung himself into his saddle and waited for Dru to join him.

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“The old Earl took ill and died when you were fighting on Lorgania last summer.”

She heeled her horse and led them toward Rotten Row. “It was quite mysterious. No one was even aware the Earl was sick, until the new Earl showed up to take care of his uncle.

As soon as he took the title, he became quite active in parliament. He’s a big supporter of the morality laws and the Church of Englor,” Dru scoffed. “He and Baymore are part of those right-wing bible thumpers convinced all of us are sinners and headed for hell.

Needless to say, they don’t approve of my more daring approach to life.”

Perhaps that prudishness was what Simon had sensed earlier.

Dru turned her head, making the silly broken feather fall forward. “Dust.” She brushed it back. It fell again.

He edged his horse closer to Dru’s. “Allow me to assist you.” He snatched the feather from the hatband. “Here.” He handed it to her.

Dru’s jaw dropped open, but quickly gave way to a smile. “Si. You broke my hat.”

Swatting at him, she dropped the feather, allowing it to float to the ground. “You blackguard, you.”

Simon heeled his horse and took off in a run to keep from being smacked.

Laughing, Dru gave chase, following him right out of the front gate of Hyde Park.

~ * ~

“Someone kill me,” Payton grumbled as he studied the chair across from Nate’s desk. He was tired and sore. Someone should put him out of his misery. Last night he’d been haunted with dreams of Si. Not just any dreams, dreams he shouldn’t be having. Of course, it never stopped him before, but this was different. It was borderline obsessive.

The intimate get-together with his hand last night should have banished Si from his thoughts, but it hadn’t. He’d been thinking about the redhead all day—oh it hurt to breathe—in between bouts of agony. “Working out rains meteors.” The walking had gotten easier, but the sitting? Oh, this was going to hurt. One good thing about it, none of his Si-induced erections had lasted long today. Pain was good for something.

Nate chuckled. “What did you do with the liniment I gave you?”