Read Love and Larceny Online

Authors: Regina Scott

Tags: #humor, #historical romance, #regency romance, #sweet romance, #historical mystery, #regency romp, #friends to lovers, #romance 1800s, #traditional regency romance, #romance clean and wholesome

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BOOK: Love and Larceny
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“Shall I go tell Sir James you wish to speak
to him?” Daphne asked.

Emily lowered her gaze to her gloved fingers
as if wishing she had a paintbrush and canvas even then. “No. I
would prefer he join me because he wishes it, not because I wish
it.”

She knew the feeling. How nice that Mr.
Sheridan actually showed interest in her as a woman, not simply
because of her athletic feats. He seemed to genuinely admire her.
She could hardly wait to become better acquainted.

But as she followed Emily toward the group by
the pond, she realized her friend was right about their new guest.
Mr. Sheridan had asked what brought Wynn to the area, but he had
never mentioned what had brought him to Somerset. If he lived
nearby, he would hardly need to stay at a house party. And if he
had been staying with friends, would they not be miffed when he
defected to Brentfield?

She had no time for further thought, for Lord
Brentfield broke away from the others to meet Daphne and Emily. He
smiled at them both, giving a nod that made the sunlight gild his
brown hair.

“Ladies, I understand Hannah set you a goal
for this visit.” His intense blue gaze moved from Emily to Daphne,
more solemn than she had usually seen. “I wanted to assure you that
there is no need for you to investigate. I have the matter in
hand.”

Daphne’s spirits dipped. Emily raised a brow.
“So you know who took the missing artwork.”

His smile saddened. “We know who stole art
from Brentfield before Hannah and I married. I’m fairly sure these
more recently discovered losses were merely part of the original
thefts.”

They were getting perilously close to
discussing Priscilla’s Dreaded Family Secret. Even though Lord
Brentfield was one of the few who knew the particulars, Daphne
swallowed her words to prevent speaking overly loud and alerting
the others.

“And your certainty has nothing to do with
rushing to Wenwood yesterday while your guests were arriving?”
Emily challenged.

He started, then colored like a boy caught
with his fingers in the sugar bowl. “The magistrate is looking into
rumors of smugglers in the area. He needed assurance of my
cooperation, which of course I gave. He seemed to think I might
actually be abetting the scoundrels. I promised him that just
because I come from America doesn’t mean I condone revolution.” He
winked at them. “Now, let’s enjoy this party.”

He turned and clapped his hands, calling
everyone to his side. With the pond offering his reflection, he
looked particularly striking in his navy coat, his grin
conspiratorial.

“Good morning,” he greeted then. “Let me say
again how happy Hannah and I are to have you here with us. Rest
assured we have many activities planned for you over the next few
days. The footmen are setting up a tournament on the bowling green
for this morning, and I hope you’ll join me for a ride through our
delightful woods this afternoon. Then we’ll have a string quartet
play after dinner for dancing.”

They all exclaimed at that, thanking him and
Hannah and talking excitedly of what was to come. It sounded
marvelous to Daphne, but she could see Emily watching their host
with narrowed eyes.

“He acts as if he’s invincible,” she murmured
to Daphne as David continued outlining his plans for the party.
“Did he learn nothing from his last bout with danger?”

“But surely this is different,” Daphne
protested. “When we were here at Easter, we could see the accidents
befalling him and those around him—poisoning, fire, falling
objects. Nothing like that is happening now.”

“Worse luck,” Emily muttered.

Daphne refused to be swayed. She had been
excited to solve Hannah’s riddle, yet the fields and sunshine were
calling. Rumors of theft may have brought them to Brentfield, but
it very much sounded as if a house party would make them stay. And
she greatly looked forward to it, especially now that Brooks
Sheridan would be joining them.

*

As he listened to the many activities Lord
Brentfield had planned, dread crawled its way down Wynn’s spine. He
had every expectation that he could acquit himself well on a ride
through the woods, and bowling might be manageable, but dancing? He
could drive four-in-hand, shoot accurately to fifty paces with gun
or bow, and even box with his lame leg, but dancing had proven
impossible. Therefore, he had no hope of holding Daphne in his
arms, should Lady Brentfield be so bold as to order a waltz, and,
worse, he would have to watch as Sheridan twirled her around the
room.

There had to be something he could do to
further his cause before the Corinthian undercut him. After all, he
knew Daphne better than most. Surely he could find some way to
endear himself to her.

Accordingly, he stuck to her side for the
next while, even after Sheridan returned and joined the group on
the lawn. She had changed out of her riding habit and was in fine
looks, her slender figure outlined by the filmy white muslin of her
day dress, her hair peeking out from inside a white chip bonnet
with a spray of flowers along the crown. He could imagine taking
her in his arms, waltzing her across the grass.

Well, yes, imagination was a fine thing. He
needed more.

He followed the others around to the east
lawn, where Lord Brentfield had erected two sets of nine wooden
pins in triangles, with a stable boy and footman alongside. Each of
the guests took a turn heaving a wooden ball down the grass toward
them. It reminded Wynn of the board game of nine pins, only on a
much grander scale.

With two lanes, the ladies lined up on one
and the gentlemen on the other. After each had had a turn, the
lowest scorers bowed out. Lord Brentfield and Sir James proved
particularly adept at the sport, but Wynn refused to be daunted. He
bested Sinclair in the second round, Sheridan (with great
satisfaction) in the third, and Lord Brentfield in the fourth. The
Bow Street Runner eyed him as they stepped up for the final
match.

“I’d think
you
were the one with
something to prove,” he murmured, weighing the ball in his
hand.

Wynn glanced to where Daphne was handily
defeating her friends round after round. “I believe I am.”

“I know the feeling.” He pulled back and let
the ball fly. All nine pins went down.

“Oh, a palpable hit,” Sheridan declared.
“You’re done for now, Fairfax.”

Daphne glanced over and met Wynn’s gaze. Her
smile assured him she had complete confidence in his skills. She
fully expected him to be the best.

And so he would be the best. He took aim,
imagined Sheridan’s grinning face on the pins, and threw.

The pins went flying in all directions, and
not one remained standing.

“Ho, ho,” Lord Brentfield said, rubbing his
hands together. “We have a competition, gentlemen. Set them up,
lads, and let’s try again.”

With Daphne having taken the winning shot on
her lane, the ladies clustered around the gentlemen as well,
chatting excitedly.

Sir James eyed Wynn. “Let’s make this
interesting, shall we? The winner must have a prize.” He glanced
back at the other guests. “A kiss from his chosen lady.”

Several of the ladies giggled. Lady Emily was
regarding Sir James fixedly. Wynn’s heart threatened to leap from
his chest it beat so hard.

“I think the ladies should agree to that,”
Lord Brentfield said with a laugh. “Well? What do you say, my
dears?”

Hannah motioned the women closer, and fair
heads bent to dark. Wynn could hear whispering, more giggles. They
straightened.

“We agree to the challenge, my lord,” Hannah
said, light shining in her dark eyes.

Wynn drew in a breath and focused on the
target. The footmen had set the nine pins back into place, but
farther away than before. Sir James cocked his head as if
calculating. Then he drew back his arm and threw.

Eight of the nine pins went down.

The crowd cheered, and he stepped back as the
stable boy ran the ball back to Wynn. He didn’t dare look at
Daphne. Every muscle in his body tensed as he curled back his arm.
The ball flew with his prayers, speeding down the lawn even as his
breath caught.

All nine pins went down.

He stared at them a moment as the others
cheered, clapping him on the back, extolling his skill. None of
that mattered. He turned, gaze seeking Daphne’s.

She was regarding him, teeth dug into her
lower lip, eyes bright. Did she find it as hard to breathe as he
did? She didn’t move as he crossed the ground toward her, each step
like a mile. His leg protested, and he ignored it. All that
mattered was this moment.

Her.

He bent his head and kissed her.

Chapter Six

Daphne closed her eyes as Wynn’s lips brushed
hers. She certainly didn’t want to stare. Wouldn’t her eyes cross
with him so close? She’d always wondered where people put their
noses when they kissed. And …

Oh. My.

She felt as if stars were exploding inside
her, the way Mr. Congreves’ rockets burst over the Thames to
brighten the night sky. Every part of her tingled.

She opened her eyes as Wynn pulled back, his
gaze wide and smile lopsided.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

Brooks Sheridan came over and clapped Wynn on
the shoulder, nearly oversetting him. “By skill and calculation, I
warrant. Impressive showing, Fairfax. Well done.”

Why would he know how well Wynn kissed? Oh,
wait, he was talking about the bowling. Completely oblivious to the
feelings surging through her, the other men were congratulating
Wynn as well, while the ladies called their appreciation. It was
all part of the game. Daphne managed a smile as her mother came to
collect her, look stern.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking about the
kiss as they all trooped inside to change into their riding clothes
for the afternoon’s activities. Did all kisses feel so impressive?
Did every meeting of lips set off such a reaction inside? Her
mother seemed determined to prevent kisses for her daughters until
after they’d wed, so Daphne couldn’t apply to her for education.
She clearly needed advice from someone who had more experience in
such things.

She changed quickly into her favorite riding
habit, the green velvet wool one with gold braid across the chest
and a domed hat, then slipped down the corridor to Priscilla’s
room.

Her friend was sitting at the dressing table
while a maid finished arranging her hair under the blue shako
riding hat with its white ostrich plumes curling down over the
brim. Something of Daphne’s intent must have shown on her face, for
Priscilla took one look at her in the mirror and dismissed the
maid.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning on the
little padded stool.

“You must have kissed any number of boys,”
Daphne said, seeing no need for roundaboutation. “Are all kisses
earth-shaking?”

Priscilla eyed her. “It depends on the
gentleman.”

Daphne nodded, venturing closer across the
thick floral-patterned carpet. “I expected as much. Some are
naturally more skilled than others, I suppose, just as they are at
riding or bowling.”

Priscilla’s perfect pink lips curled up. “I
take it Mr. Fairfax is as skilled in kissing as he is on the
bowling green.”

“Well,” Daphne said, face heating. “Yes.”

Priscilla rose, figure showing to advantage
in her fitted, Wedgwood blue riding habit. “I’ll tell you a
secret.” She leaned closer to Daphne and lowered her voice. “I find
how one enjoys the kiss has less to do with the gentleman’s skill
and more to do with how one feels about the gentleman.”

Daphne frowned as Priscilla straightened.
“But I don’t feel anything for Wynn outside friendship.”

Priscilla trilled a laugh. “Then perhaps Mr.
Fairfax is particularly gifted. A shame I am betrothed, or I could
test that theory for you.”

Perhaps not such a shame
, Daphne
thought as she and Priscilla collected the others and headed down
to the stables. The thought of her beautiful friend kissing Wynn
made her feel all wiggly inside, as if someone had dropped a spider
down the back of her habit.

She could not help studying Wynn as he
accepted the groom’s help to mount the chestnut gelding that had
been brought out for him. He didn’t look any different than usual
in his navy riding coat with the black velvet lapels. He held the
reins with as little effort, had an admirable seat. But when he
offered her a smile as if noticing her scrutiny, she felt her face
heating once more.

“And which will you choose, Miss Courdebas?”
Mr. Sheridan asked as he gathered the reins on his own horse.

The elderly groom from the morning, who had
just led out a docile-looking gray mare, took one look at Daphne
and directed the horse to her sister. She was pleased to find
herself once more on the white stallion.

The trees made dappled shadows like a lace
veil on the ground as they set off through the woods. The path was
wide enough to ride two abreast, and couples naturally paired up,
with Lord Brentfield and Hannah at the front and Daphne’s mother
and Lady Minerva at the back as if to keep an eye on everyone. Sir
James looked the least at ease. Daphne supposed he likely had
little call to ride in his profession, but Emily slowed her pace to
allow him to keep up.

Daphne knew she should partner Wynn, if for
no other reason than that they were supposed to be courting, but
she found herself more interested in watching Mr. Sheridan. He sat
his horse with laudable ease, quickly outpacing the others and
disappearing around a curve in the riding track. With an apology to
Wynn, she urged her horse forward to catch him, but when she
rounded the bend, he had disappeared.

How odd.

Daphne glanced in all directions, gaze
seeking any movement among the trees. Leaves trembled in the
breeze; something small rustled the bushes on her right. A shadow
clung to the trunk of a tree.

BOOK: Love and Larceny
5.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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