Amanda Scott (5 page)

“Oh, but I do,” he replied, his voice deep and melodic, his tone lazy but certain.

“You do not,” she snapped, trying to ignore the odd effect his voice seemed to have on her body, as if its deep vibrations rippled right through her. Straightening, she added firmly, “I can be of no concern whatsoever to you.”

“That horse is mine.”

“Oh.” Deflated, she tried to imagine what Charley would reply now, had she been the one to find herself in such a case, but her imagination boggled. The stranger was watching her curiously, and despite the stern set of his countenance she thought she detected a glint of amusement in his eyes. Lines etched their outer corners, as if he were a man who laughed frequently, and she took courage from that but could discern little else about him. His dark hair was carelessly tousled, so he was not a member of the dandy set, and if he was a sportsman, he was not one who prided himself upon being a devil to go in the hunting field. He was far too large for most hunters.

He was clearly waiting to hear what she would say next, and his silence, despite the twinkle in his eyes, was daunting.

At last, quietly, Melissa said, “I beg your pardon for my error, sir. I thought I was merely borrowing one of the inn’s hacks.”

“Borrowing?” His eyebrows shot upward in disbelief.

“Yes, borrowing,” she said firmly. “I intend to ride only to Cambridge, where I am persuaded I can easily arrange for its prompt return. I am no thief.”

“Then you simply made a mistake and took the wrong horse. Is that it?”

“That’s it exactly. Now, if you will just excuse me—”

“One moment.” His grip remained fixed on her arm, and despite the thickness of her cloak, she could feel the warmth of his hand now. His nearness was disturbing. He did not frighten her, but he seemed to fill the space around her, to take up much more space than even his great height and breadth warranted. His voice, too, seemed larger than life. It seemed to her that it resonated through the stable, though he did not raise it, when he said reasonably, “No doubt my host will know which horse you ought to take. Shall we just step inside and ask him?”

“No! That is,” she said, forcing calm back into her voice, “I do not wish to return to the inn, sir.”

“Then you are not, in fact, a guest here.”

“Yes, I am. Or I was. It’s just that …” Struggling to think how to continue, she caught his gaze again and, seeing patent disbelief in his quizzical expression, fell silent, nibbling her lower lip and wishing he would step back, if only a foot or two.

“Just so. You did not, in fact, previously arrange with my host to borrow one of his horses. Perhaps,” he added when she did not contradict him, “you had better explain the whole matter to me. I must warn you, however, that my time is short, for I have formed the intention of speaking with my trainer before he retires for the night, and he does so rather earlier than usual on evenings before important races.”

“Do you breed racers?” The question leapt from her tongue before she could stop it. Horses, particularly highly bred horses, were ever of interest to her.

“So you are an enthusiast,” he said, smiling. The smile made his dimple more noticeable, softened his features dramatically, and was infectious enough to stir an instant urge in her to smile back. Then another thought seemed to strike him, for the smile faded, replaced by curiosity, and he said, “If that is the case, why are you determined to leave Newmarket on the eve of the biggest day of racing?”

Noises of arrival outside in the yard stirred her tensions anew, and she became increasingly anxious to get away. Trying to think of something that would convince him to let her go, she said distractedly, “Is tomorrow the biggest day?”

“It is.” Again he was watching her, but he said only, “I expect I should call for a stableboy to look after these horses of mine.”

“Oh, please do not, sir. Could you not very kindly lend me that one for just a short time. I promise to send him back the moment I reach Cambridge. I-I cannot explain the whole to you, but really, I am in the most dreadful hurry. I must get away from here at once. I-if I do not …” She definitely heard men’s voices in the yard now. Looking back at the large gentleman, who maintained his inflexible grip on her arm, she saw him shake his head, and said beseechingly, “P-please, sir.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he said, looking into her eyes in a way that made her want to weep with vexation. “You are far too young and unprotected to ride off at night on your own.”

“You say that only because I am female,” she retorted, fighting through increasing fear to retain her tattered shreds of dignity. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent horsewoman, sir.”

“No doubt you are,” he said calmly. “But though I do worry more about a female, particularly one as small as you are—”

“I am no such thing!” But she felt very small next to him, certainly, and she was not surprised to see him smile again.

The smile was rueful. He said, “To me you seem petite, I’m afraid, although I daresay your height is probably average for a female. That makes no difference to the point at hand, however. Riding off alone after dark on an unfamiliar route would be foolish for anyone, even a large, strong man. There are any number of dangers out there that you cannot have considered properly.”

“I haven’t got time to consider them,” she said. “Please, sir, you must let me go. What might or might not become of me is not your affair, just as I told you at the outset of this conversation.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Melissa! What the devil are you doing here?”

Frozen in place by the sound of Sir Geoffrey’s voice, despite the fact that her increasing tension had warned her that she might expect momentarily to hear it, Melissa felt as if the breath of life had been knocked from her body. It was as if somehow she had turned into a phantom or shadow that swooped up to perch above the three figures in the stable, looking down as the scene unfolded. Though no portion of her body had moved, she knew the expression on her father’s face as clearly as if she gazed at him in a bright light. She knew how his jaw had tightened, how the lines around his mouth had deepened. She knew the thinning of his lips as he pressed them together, and the way his eyes narrowed and their expression chilled. She sensed, too, the exact moment he collected his wits and became fully aware of her large companion.

“I am Sir Geoffrey Seacourt,” he said in a firm but much calmer tone. “I do not believe I have the honor of your acquaintance, sir.”

“I’m Vexford,” the tall stranger said casually in his deep voice, the very sound of which recalled Melissa to her senses. His tone indicated that he had no doubt that his brief identification of himself would suffice.

Apparently it did, for Sir Geoffrey said warmly, “Are you indeed? I have met your father, of course. Ulcombe is a member of White’s, as I am myself.”

“I also claim membership in that august establishment,” Vexford said with some amusement, “though I do not believe I have set foot in the place since my honorable sire first presented me there.”

“No doubt you prefer Brooks’s,” Sir Geoffrey said, chuckling. “I know how it is with the younger set, you see, but you will no doubt change your attitude once you have succeeded to your father’s earldom, you know, for that generally is what happens in such cases as yours. Go inside now, Melissa,” he said, adding in a caressing way, “You will catch your death out here, darling. Indeed, I cannot think what brought you to the stables tonight, but his lordship and I will excuse you now.”

Melissa stood still for another long moment. The hand gripping her arm had released it the moment Sir Geoffrey first spoke. At the time, she had felt oddly abandoned by the gesture, though it had freed her spirit to take its odd flight of fancy. Taking courage now from the mildness of Sir Geoffrey’s manner and the fact that the sensation of having left her body had disappeared, she began to turn toward her father, pausing briefly as she did to look up into Vexford’s eyes. Seeing not only curiosity in his expression but the same strength she sensed in his very nearness, she shifted her gaze to Sir Geoffrey, saying as she did, “I would prefer not to go in just yet, sir. I was speaking with his lordship, and our conversation had not yet ended.”

Sir Geoffrey stood just inside the stable door, his horse’s reins in one hand, his riding whip in the other. When her eyes met his, she realized instantly that his charm was false. Wondering how she had dared to defy him, she could only hope that Vexford would not do or say anything to make the situation worse than it was.

Flicking an imaginary bit of lint from his left breeches’ leg with the tip of the whip, Sir Geoffrey said evenly, “You will do as I bid you, darling.” Smiling again at Vexford, he added, “You will excuse her, I know. She is young and does not always know what is best for her. I daresay you were considerably astonished to meet her out here alone at such an hour—unless, of course, you were previously acquainted and had made some sort of assignation with her.” His smile widened as if he were certain that was not the case, but Melissa, oversensitive to his moods now, noted that the steely glint in his eyes did not match the lightness of his tone.

Vexford said smoothly, “I’m not acquainted with the lady at all, I regret to say. We encountered each other but moments ago when I rode into the stable. However, if she does not wish to return to the inn, I can see no reason why she should, and I am quite willing to see that no danger befalls her here.”

“The decision is not hers to make,” Sir Geoffrey said, looking at Melissa.

Although nothing in that look would have warned anyone not well acquainted with him, she remembered the expression she saw now as clearly as if they had never been parted. Her knees threatened to betray her, and she swayed dizzily.

A large hand gripped her elbow, steadying her, and she heard Vexford say with an edge to his voice, “I do not understand you, Seacourt. Have you some particular claim on this lady that you so cavalierly make such decisions for her?”

Melissa looked up at him in surprise, realizing only then what he must have thought, but Sir Geoffrey chuckled and said, “I collect that the wicked minx exerted herself to charm you, just as she has charmed others before you, rather than tell the truth. She likes to get her own way, you see, and never hesitates to employ a vast array of feminine wiles to that end. At another time, Vexford, I might hesitate to intervene in what I’m persuaded can be no more than innocent dalliance—on your part at least—just to teach her a lesson. However, in this particular instance, my darling daughter was specifically commanded to remain in her bedchamber until my return.”

“Your daughter!”

Sir Geoffrey laughed. “I ought to have known she did not mention her surname, because you did not recognize it when I identified myself to you. Since I collect, as well, that she failed to mention even that she is here at the inn with her father, just what
did
she tell you, if I may inquire?”

Melissa stiffened, trembling, but the warm hand at her elbow did not stir as Vexford said on a note of surprise, “I think you misunderstood the situation, Seacourt. We had, as I said, but just met when I rode into the stable. That Miss Seacourt did not make me a gift of her name or circumstance is therefore quite understandable. I daresay she must have been taking the air before retiring, but our conversation had not advanced to the point of exchanging any details whatsoever.”

Sir Geoffrey said skeptically, “When I came in, I distinctly recall that you had your hand on her arm, just as you do now. If you had only just met and had not yet introduced yourselves …” Though he fell silent, he looked pointedly at Vexford.

“I’m afraid I took her by surprise when I came inside, and—”

“Excuse me, mister.” A wiry stableboy appeared opportunely (in Melissa’s opinion) out of the dark doorway behind Sir Geoffrey, and reached to take the reins he held in his right hand. Pausing, the lad looked in bewilderment from one man to the other and said, “I were told ter come put up a horse fer the night. Be it this ’un or one o’ them others, or all of ’em? ’Cause if it’s all of ’em, I’d best shout up some’un else, so as not ter leave any of ’em standing too long.”

Sir Geoffrey looked at the horse Melissa had saddled for herself, then at Vexford’s, and a brief but pregnant silence ensued. Melissa racked her brain for something to say that would explain away the presence of a second, saddled horse, but nothing useful occurred to her.

Vexford said casually, “You may certainly look after mine, lad, and if you like, I’ll have someone else sent out to help you. That second horse was probably saddled in the belief that my trainer would visit the racing barn again tonight, for it is certainly the horse he rides. He will not be going out again, however, so you can put it up now.”

“But, m’ lord, no one—”

“That will be all for now,” Vexford said. “Just see to these horses. I’m beginning to feel a distinct chill out here, and I’ve no wish to linger to discuss the matter. Shall I tell the landlord to roust out another lad to help you?”

“No need for that, m’ lord. I’ll just shout. The lads sleep when they can in the back loft, because we’ve got gentlemen coming in all night long, but ’tis a wonder none of ’em heard us afore now. Ye ought ter know ye’d only to call out.”

As the boy moved to collect the three horses, Melissa said, “Before you go into the inn, my lord, perhaps I might just have another brief word with you.”

Sir Geoffrey said, “No need for that. You are coming with me, darling, and there will be no more roundaboutation. His lordship will excuse you.”

Desperately, praying he would support her, Melissa said to Vexford, “Please, sir, you must hear me out. This is wrong. He may be my father, but he has abducted me from my rightful home and forced me to come here in order to—”

“That’s enough,” Sir Geoffrey said sharply enough to silence her. Turning to Vexford with a sigh, he said in rueful exasperation, “I am sorry for this. My daughter is unfortunately both imaginative and fanciful. Merely because I have made a decision on her behalf which she does not like, she has led me a merry dance, but I’ll not allow her to trouble you or anyone else with her feminine nonsense, I promise you.”