Unbefitting a Lady (5 page)

There wasn’t much he could tell her to change that without
giving himself away. But there was plenty he could show her. Maybe he couldn’t
read a horse’s mind but she wasn’t the only one who could train a champion or
ride like hell and he’d start showing her right now.

‘You say she’s the best jumper in the county?’ Bram eyed
Isolde, who’d finished drinking and had turned her attentions to cropping the
sparse tufts of grass.

‘Untouchable,’ Phaedra said with her customary confidence.

‘Merlin seems to be a prime goer. I’ll bet he can give her a
run for her money.’ Competition sparked in Phaedra’s eyes. Bram grinned. It
didn’t take much to stoke that particular fire. She rose to the bait all too
easily.

Phaedra gave one of her shrugs. ‘He’s fast, tends to tire over
long distances, but he’ll jump any fence you find in the meanwhile.’

‘Then let’s go.’ Bram winked and tossed her up into the saddle
before swinging up into his own. He wheeled Merlin around. ‘One point for every
log, two points for every fence. First one back to the stables claims a prize.
On your mark, get set, go!’

Chapter Five

P
haedra pulled Isolde to a halt a
half-length behind Merlin in the stable quadrangle. ‘I win!’ she crowed
triumphantly, sliding off the horse’s back and loosening the girth. Isolde was
slick with sweat. She’d run hard and jumped harder,
much
harder, than Merlin.

Bram dismounted and shot her a mischievous smile that boded
ill. ‘You can’t possibly think you won?’ Phaedra drew the reins over Isolde’s
head. ‘I counted fifteen points for me and only eight for you.’ It had been no
small feat to keep track of logs and fences for the two of them while flying
breakneck over the Castonbury lands.

Bram fell in beside her, leading a lathered Merlin to the
stalls. ‘I believe the rule was first one back to the stables wins,
not
who accrues the most points.’

‘Then why jump anything at all?’ Phaedra retorted.

‘Yes, why indeed?’ Bram’s white-toothed grin was insufferable
in its arrogance and twice as enticing. It was almost impossible to be angry at
a smile like that.

‘Next you’ll be telling me you only jumped a few things to
humour me.’

‘No, I jumped a few things so you wouldn’t
suspect
anything. Once you told me Merlin wasn’t keen on longer
distances, I knew I didn’t have a chance unless Isolde tired herself out.’ Bram
called for a stable boy to take the horses. ‘Give them both a good rub down.
They’re sweaty and could take a chill. Put on their blankets and turn them out
to their paddocks.’ Then he gave her all his attention. ‘Now it’s time to claim
my forfeit.’

‘You can’t be serious. You cheated. You deliberately implied
certain things,’ Phaedra argued.

‘I’m always serious about winning. I didn’t peg you for a sore
loser, Phaedra. Are you refusing to pay up?’

That stung. ‘Of course not.’ But it took all her bravado to
admit it. The way he was looking at her right now made her wonder exactly what
kind of forfeit he wanted to claim. She probably should have defined those terms
as well. She gave it a belated try. ‘I won’t kiss you for it, if that’s what
you’re thinking.’

Bram stepped closer, making her aware of the sheer maleness of
him, a potent combination of muscle, leather and horse, all the things a man
should be. ‘Why not? I am of the opinion you need kissing.’

‘I’ve been kissed before, if you must know,’ Phaedra said in
low tones. Good heavens, she hoped they weren’t overheard. This was the most
unseemly conversation. She tried to end it by walking to her office.

Bram gave a chuckle that sent butterflies to her stomach in
warm flutters and followed her. ‘I’m sure you have if you count parlour games
and mistletoe.’

They’d reached her office door. He should take the hint it was
time to part. But he didn’t. Instead he rested his arm on the door frame over
her head and leaned towards her, his arm, his body, effectively trapping her
against the wall before she could go in and escape behind the security of her
desk. ‘That’s not the kind of kissing I’m talking about, Phaedra.’ There was a
wealth of innuendo and invitation in that short phrase and it sent a jolt of
warm heat straight to her belly.

She should tell him to stop using her name. He was hired help.
He should know better. She should be outraged at his bold behaviour, maybe even
frightened. Aunt Wilhelmina would be. But all Phaedra could conjure up in
response was excitement.

‘What kind of kissing
are
you
talking about?’ Phaedra bit her lip wincing at her words. Had she actually said
that? ‘Never mind, I don’t want to know.’

‘Of course you want to know.’ His blue eyes dropped to her
lips, his mouth a teasing half-smile full of knowledge.

‘I think you’re the most outrageous man I’ve ever met.’ It was
the most sophisticated set-down she could manage under the circumstances and the
most true. None of the young bucks she’d encountered could match him in his
relentless pursuit of...of what? Of
her
?

Bram stepped back, releasing her from his intimate cage, that
ever-present smile on his face when he looked at her as if he could read her
every thought. ‘Good, that gives us something in common. Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I have work to see to.’

A little flame of temper flared. How dare he imply she’d been
the one keeping him when
he’d
been the one to follow
her
to the office and...and what? Phaedra went
inside and shut her door, craving solitude.

He really was most the unnerving man she’d ever encountered. It
wasn’t because she hadn’t met an arrogant man before. She’d met a few, Sir
Nathan Samuelson notwithstanding, and she’d routinely found the arrogance
completely unattractive. But on Bram Basingstoke, that was not the case. He wore
arrogance infuriatingly well. He was confident, sure of himself, and sure of her
as if he knew all along what she’d do next before she knew it herself.

Phaedra slumped in her chair, getting her racing pulse under
control. Admittedly, she had little practice with this sort of man, with
any
man. He’d had it aright when he’d guessed her
kissing had been limited to party games and holiday traditions. He’d been right,
too, when he’d suggested she wanted to know about his kind of kissing. Just
because she hadn’t been kissed, didn’t mean she didn’t want to be. There just
hadn’t been the right opportunity, or maybe there just hadn’t been the right
man. She was twenty, after all, and girls younger than she were married with
families.

Phaedra fiddled idly with the paperweight on her desk. Bram
Basingstoke thought he could be the right man. Was he crazy? She was a duke’s
daughter. It raised the question of whether or not he knew better. He acted like
no servant she’d ever met. There was a bit of irony to the idea that a lady took
a groom out riding with her as protection, as a chaperone, but who protected her
from the groom when he came in the form of Bram Basingstoke? In no way did he
meet Aunt Wilhelmina’s terms of an ideal chaperone. He was far too handsome, and
far too exciting with his brash brand of conversation.

Phaedra gave a heavy sigh. If the truth be told, she was
disappointed he hadn’t kissed her in spite of her scold. It might have been nice
to know once and for all what the mystique was all about. She was tired of being
twenty and having never been kissed, at least not really kissed by a real man.
Perhaps there was still hope. Bram had left without claiming his forfeit. Until
then, she had Warbourne to think about. Phaedra grabbed a lunge line from a hook
on the wall. It was time to see what her colt could do.

* * *

Phaedra looked up at the clock on her wall and rubbed
the bridge of her nose. Quarter past six already! The afternoon had sped by in
an enjoyable flurry of activity. Warbourne had not disappointed. She’d worked
with him until late afternoon and then buried herself in her office writing
copious notes about the day’s training. It was all very promising and she was
tempted to send to the house for supper instead of going back. But that was the
coward’s way. It would accomplish nothing. If she didn’t show up for supper,
Giles would seek her out down here. If he meant to have a talk, nothing would
stop him.

Phaedra rose and stretched, her stomach rumbled. She’d worked
through lunch and tea. Supper sounded nice but she’d have to hurry if she was to
be on time and dressed to meet Aunt Wilhelmina’s exacting standards. Even though
no guests were present, Aunt Wilhelmina expected the family to dress for dinner.
One never knew who might arrive at the last minute and while
they
could have bad form in showing up unexpectedly,
the Montagues could not. A duke and his family must always be prepared to look
the part.

Phaedra arrived in the drawing room promptly at seven o’clock
dressed in a cream dinner gown of Spitalfields silk woven with blue and red
flowers, her hair put up in a twist with a few tendrils left down to frame her
face. Her maid, Henny, had been prepared, a gown laid out and a pitcher of warm
water already waiting in anticipation.

Lumsden summoned them for dinner with a properness not to be
outdone by any London household. Phaedra thought it was all a bit silly since
everyone was gone but Lumsden had been with the family for years and, like Aunt
Wilhelmina, he had his own ideas about the importance of standing on ceremony
even if it was just the three of them.

That importance extended to where they dined. The long, stately
dining table dominated the centre of the room; eight-armed candelabra of heavy
silver graced the table length atop a snowy white cloth. Lights from the candles
played across the delicate Staffordshire china and crystal wine glasses. Every
night, the room was turned out to perfection, much like its three guests, and
every night, the room remained mainly empty with only a few to enjoy its
beauty.

It had been different in the fall. Kate had been home and
Cousin Ross had come to visit with his sister, Araminta. Phaedra had enjoyed
their company.

Ross had made dinners lively, discussing local news with Giles
and Kate. Even Aunt Wilhelmina had been charmed by him right up until he’d been
discovered having a little romance with the maid, Lisette. Aunt Wilhelmina
hadn’t minded the romance—‘it was what men of his station did’—but she had
minded greatly that he hadn’t wanted to end it. Now Ross was gone and Araminta
had married and gone to live in Cambridgeshire.

‘Perhaps we could invite Alicia to dine with us again some
evening,’ Phaedra suggested, taking in the empty expanse of table. Alicia must
hate dining alone.

Aunt Wilhelmina, her iron-grey hair pulled back into a tight
bun, shot her a quelling look as if she’d spoken blasphemy. ‘
That woman
has not yet earned a regular place at the
table with the Montagues, no matter what name she calls herself.’

That woman
,
Alicia Montague, had been relegated to the Dower House with her
little son and stuck in limbo since autumn waiting to prove to them all she was
truly Jamie’s widow, waiting for acceptance. Phaedra felt sorry for her. Alicia
had been up to the house a few times. Phaedra knew her father liked seeing the
little toddler when he was well enough. But for the most part, the family liked
to pretend she didn’t exist whenever they could. Alicia Montague was awkward to
say the least, a reminder that not all was settled.

Phaedra opened her mouth to respond but Giles cut in. ‘Phae,
let’s not bring any unpleasantness to the table. The kitchen has prepared roast
pheasant tonight. We should enjoy it. Why don’t you tell us about the colt? Did
you take him out today?’

‘Giles, he’s splendid. You should come down and watch him
tomorrow.’ Phaedra managed to keep up a steady stream of chatter about Warbourne
and the stables for most of dinner. She began to hope Giles would forget the
talk he wanted to have. But by the time the raspberry crème was set in front of
them for the last course, Giles brought the conversation to his subject.

He fixed her with a friendly, brotherly smile. She was not
fooled. ‘Phae, I mentioned at breakfast that I wanted to talk with you about
this spring.’ He nodded in Aunt Wilhelmina’s direction. ‘We would like to give
you a Season. It’s long overdue and you deserve it. Tucked up here in
Derbyshire, you’ve had very little chance to meet anyone your own age or
station.’

Phaedra put down her spoon. She hated when he did that. It was
a nasty strategy, making the command seem like a gift. He
wanted
to give her a Season. ‘That’s very generous of you both.’
Phaedra returned Giles’s smile with one of her own, picking her words carefully.
Aunt Wilhelmina was a grand proponent of the Season. She and Kate had gone
around about it when it had been Kate’s turn to come out.

‘I think it would be a burden and an expense.’ Aunt Wilhelmina
might like the Season but she liked to save a pound whenever she could. Phaedra
hoped the money argument would appeal to her. ‘We’re just getting the money back
in line, Giles, after father’s bad investments. I don’t want to undo your hard
work by straining the coffers over something as unnecessary as a wardrobe and
opening up the town house.’ To say nothing of the cost of keeping the horses and
the carriage in town and all the other expenses of simply being in London.

It was Aunt Wilhelmina who answered. She sharply dismissed
Phaedra’s concern. ‘If we’re worried about cost, we can stay at Lady Grace
Mannering’s, Araminta’s aunt. Not much to be done about the wardrobe though. We
can’t have you go looking like a pauper. People will talk. There’s frugality and
then there’s stupidity. The money has to be spent in the right places.’

Giles covered Phaedra’s hand with his own. ‘Don’t worry your
head about money.’ There was a glint in his eye that warned her not to press the
argument further. He knew very well she hadn’t been worried about money in
Buxton when it came to Warbourne. He understood her argument now was just a
polite subterfuge to avoid the real issue. If she was going to get out of a
Season, she’d have to tell the truth, the real reason she didn’t want to go.

‘I can’t leave the stables,’ Phaedra said bluntly. ‘When I left
in January to visit the new stables at Chatsworth everything fell apart while I
was gone.’ She’d come home to find the stables in disarray, hay orders not
placed and horses not shoed.

‘We have a reliable man in place now. Bram Basingstoke is quite
accomplished, Tom Anderson said as much today when I spoke with him,’ Giles
answered her evenly.

Giles had come to the stables? ‘You came down and didn’t come
to see me?’

‘I came this morning. I was told you were out riding,’ Giles
said firmly. ‘Now, don’t change the subject. You know I’m right. You rode with
Basingstoke this morning and you know he’s capable if he handled Merlin.
Besides, Tom Anderson is on the mend. He’s able to keep a better eye on things
than he was in January.’