A Hint of Seduction (10 page)

Damnation! What had happened to him? If he didn’t know better he’d think he was the one who had fallen off the horse. Through the years he had been amused by beautiful young ladies, but surely this was the first time he had ever been bewitched by one.

“If you can, it’s only because Miss Reynolds is not in the room right now,” Andrew said. “And mark my words, time will tell which one of us is correct about her and her relationship to Westerland.”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this, and she’ll return The General tomorrow,” he said with more confidence than he was suddenly feeling.

Andrew shook his head. “I still don’t think it is wise to have her bring The General to the park. It’s not a good idea for anyone to see her with your horse again. This has already caused a scandal that’s made you a laughingstock and it’s growing by the hour.”

John didn’t need to be reminded of that. “No one will see us. I’ve asked her to come at dawn.”

Surprise lit in Andrew’s eyes for the second time and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You blasted devil. You scoundrel. You plan to ruin her for stealing your horse, don’t you?”

“Of course not,” he exclaimed as softly as he could.

“Why not? It’s a dastardly thing to do, but look what she’s put you through.”

John glanced around the room to see if anyone took notice of their vigorous conversation. He caught sight of
Westerland looking at him from across the dance floor. The Marquis gave him a sneering smile and with his hands made the motion of riding a horse.

John’s insides burned.

“Damnation, Andrew. You know I would never intentionally ruin a young lady’s reputation. What do you take me for?”

“Perhaps a man who needs to get his dignity back. And at the expense of the lady who caused him to lose it seems the way to do it, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, I won’t. That never entered my mind. I just wanted to have a—”

John was interrupted by a friendly slap on the back and he turned around.

“Fines, did you find your horse?” Wilkins asked as he joined the two friends.

“Yes, I did,” John said, barely holding on to his temper. “All’s well.”

“Glad to hear it. Everyone’s talking about it, you know. I can’t believe how word’s gotten around, but apparently Mallory wasn’t the only one to say he saw a lady riding The General.”

That wasn’t what John needed to hear.

“No doubt the gossip about that will have passed by tomorrow morning and the wagging tongues will be on to something or someone new.”

“Yes, I would think the bigger story would be Westerland’s stallion beating your gelding, not some ghost of a lady riding your horse.”

“Right,” Andrew said. “Every betting man knows how fast John’s gelding is. He hasn’t been beaten all year until this morning and that a mere technicality. John would have
won had he not almost run into that lady—bird—I mean—a lazy bat.” Andrew swore under his breath. “That is if a bat hadn’t spooked his horse.”

Andrew finished somewhat frustrated, and Wilkins looked at him as if he thought he was ready to be committed to Bedlam.

John wanted the subject dropped.

Now.

“Look, ol’ chaps, the best thing you can do for me is to let the matter die.”

“John,” asked a new arrival, “what is this I keep hearing about a lady riding your horse in the park today?”

John didn’t know how, but he managed to hold his tongue as he turned and looked into the eyes of his favorite uncle.

Not him, too!

How did one little incident become such a nightmare?

The very distinguished-looking Bentley Hastings stood just an inch or two shorter than his nephew but with the same broad shoulders, narrow hips, and self-confident carriage. His full, thick hair and closely cropped beard were brushed with a silvery shade of gray, and his eyes always seemed to have a mischievous twinkle.

Bentley was his mother’s brother, but he and John’s father had been closer than most blood brothers.

“It’s just the usual gossipmongers,” John muttered tightly.

Miss Reynolds and her little stunt had caused him a lot of unwelcome grief. It would serve her right if he followed Andrew’s school of thought and found a way to discredit her.

“Everyone here at the party seems to be talking about it.”

I know.

“Laughing about it is more like it,” Wilkins said and chuckled.

John threw him a “you’re not helping me” look, and the young man mumbled his good-byes and hurried away.

“It’s nothing but a silly rumor, Uncle,” John insisted.

“We think the Marquis of Westerland started it after a race this morning,” Andrew added.

“Yes, I heard about that, too, and find it rather odd that he would.” Bentley’s thick eyebrows twitched. “No reason for him to start something like that when he was the winner.”

“Well, sir,” Andrew countered, “you know that the entire family has been easily offended since John turned down the duke’s offer to marry his daughter.”

Both Bentley and John looked at Andrew.

As if realizing that he had spoken out of turn, Andrew took a step back and cleared his throat. “Well, I think I’ll go get myself a drink and let the two of you talk about this in private. I’ll see you tomorrow, right, John?”

He nodded and Andrew said his good-byes, leaving as quickly as Wilkins.

John turned back to his uncle and simply said, “I agree it would be odd for Westerland and his friends to make up a story like that. But queerer things have happened.”

“Indeed. I suppose this whole thing could be his doing. Andrew was right about Westerland’s entire family still being snappish over your not marrying Lady Christine last year.”

“Could be.”

“Well, I suggest that you be seen riding The General in the park for the better part of the day tomorrow. It will soon put to rest such fanciful notions as a lady riding your horse.”

John had always had great respect for his uncle. He
occasionally gave John advice, but he never meddled. John appreciated his concern and his discretion over the years.

“I’ll do that.”

“Good. I think I will ride with you. Should we go early?”

“No,” he said almost too quickly. “I think the afternoon would be better for me, and there’ll be more people out in the park later in the day. If that will not inconvenience you?”

“Not at all. I’ll meet you at the usual place in the park at four.”

“I’ll be there.”

His uncle walked away and John wondered what he would do if she didn’t show with his horse?

Miss Reynolds had given him no indication that she would meet him. In fact, she stressed that she would not. But surely if she didn’t come to the park, she would have his horse delivered to him now that she knew who he was, or at least send word early in the day where he could reclaim The General.

Andrew was right. She had outfoxed him again and once again his anger was not what it should be considering the predicament she had put him in.

He should have insisted that she immediately tell him where the horse was so he could go and retrieve him tonight.

She was still in control. Was she playing a game with him or was she as pure and innocent as she appeared to be?

Miss Catherine Reynolds had made havoc of his day, and for some reason he didn’t understand, that didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should.

Seven

I
T WAS COLD
,
dark, and misty, but Catherine was warm and light of heart as she rode with purpose into the park leading the big horse called The General. Over her hastily donned riding habit, she wore a black hooded cape which she pulled low over her face.

Even if anyone saw her, there was no way she would be recognized without the hood being ripped from her head.

She planned to make sure that didn’t happen. Catherine was an excellent rider, and with the spirited mare beneath her she had no fear that anyone could catch them if she were given chase.

What she was doing was madness, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She’d wanted to accept Lord Chatwin’s challenge and meet him in the park to return his horse. She knew if she was caught, her mission in London would be in serious jeopardy and Victoria would probably lock her in her room.

She knew she couldn’t become caught up in her infatuation for John. But she’d never been able to pass on a challenge or a dare.

She rode the same mare she’d ridden yesterday. The big gelding behind her didn’t like being led. He made it known by constantly throwing his head up in the air and snorting. He pulled on the reins as if trying to get away, but Catherine kept him on a short rein and didn’t allow him to intimidate her even when he pawed the earth with impatience and retaliation.

Catherine had secretly slipped out of Victoria’s house and run to the stable. The young groom who slept in the barn loft had been shocked and a bit confused to see a young lady alone at the door. At first he’d been reluctant to let her have the horses. But his scruples vanished when she dropped a few shillings into his hands and assured him she was the lady who left The General at the establishment the day before.

He had asked if she wanted him to ride with her, but she declined. She only wanted to get to her destination and back home again without being accosted by anyone who would want to know why a lady was riding the streets alone at night.

Since she’d returned home from the ball, she’d divided her time between thinking about the handsome Lord Chatwin and the two gentlemen Lady Lynette had described to her during their conversation at the party. One obviously afraid of horses and the other afraid of the color green.

Catherine shivered. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of either of these men siring her, but she needed to know the truth of her parentage. She had the right to know who fathered her, so she would pursue both men, no matter how strange they were.

She would make a point of getting to know Lady Lynette a little better, so she could ask her to make the proper introductions.

As Catherine entered the park, it felt eerily empty. Gray mist hung in tree branches and puddled around the ground.

Her heartbeat seemed to keep time with the plopping of the horses’ hooves on the hard-packed ground. She kept up a steady, brisk pace, and even through the drifting, early-morning fog, as best as she could tell, she rode directly back to the place where she had almost collided with Lord Chatwin the morning before.

When she halted the horses and dismounted, it was suddenly very quiet except for the rapid heaviness of her breathing, and the snorting and prancing of The General behind her. Her own horse nickered.

Catherine looked all around her, but with the enveloping fog, seeing farther than a few feet was impossible.

For a moment she wondered if Lord Chatwin would show, since she had really never agreed to meet him. Suddenly out of the quietness came the rustling of leaves and the cracking of twigs.

The earl, cloaked in a black cape that fell behind his shoulders, proudly rode out of the gray mist. The rhythm of Catherine’s pulse quickened. For a heartbeat, Catherine’s stomach fluttered deliciously.

Even in the semidarkness she could see that he had taken great care with his appearance. He was immaculate with a fashionable waistcoat and his neckcloth simply tied. Suddenly Catherine wished she hadn’t been so lax in her dress, but she’d been thinking more of not getting caught than how she looked.

He jumped down from the saddle and started toward her. Everything about him, from the way he arrogantly
carried himself, to his easy stride appealed to her. The masculine boldness with which he took every step was hard to ignore. He filled out his black cape with broad shoulders that tapered to a flat stomach and narrow hips. His long legs looked powerful in his shiny riding boots as he walked toward her.

He was devastatingly handsome, displaying self-confidence in every purposeful step. He wasn’t close enough for her to know if he looked at her or his horse, but she noticed that he held something in his hand. As he came closer, she saw that it was a bright red apple.