Teach Me Under the Mistletoe (9 page)

Training a horse!
Kitty opened her mouth to castigate him for his rudeness but snapped it closed before the words were out. She had asked for his assistance in the matter. If he chose to regard it like training a horse, so be it.
But if he thinks I’ll prance about and jump stone walls…

Kitty tilted her head and sent him her most regal and condescending smile.

Too bad he stood with his back to her.

“Right then.” He whirled about. “I won’t pretend to know what constitutes manners for a holiday ball.”

And from the sour look on his face, he had no desire to change that fact.

“So tell me what it is ye do at such a function.”

“Wh-what I do?”

“What ye do… what other people do…” He shrugged. “I’ve never attended a ball.”

“I…” Kitty frowned. How could she explain something that had been such a part of her life from the beginning that she accepted it all without giving much thought to any of it? “We… that is, people arrive—”

“Arrive where?”

“To… to the place where the event is b-being held.” She expelled a harsh breath in frustration. “During the season, the balls tend to be very large — so large the host and hostess hold them in great halls. It’s all very grand and lovely.”

Hugh scuffed the toe of one boot along the edge of a stone. Aside from the muscle working in his jaw, his face showed no expression. “Does everyone arrive at the same time?”

“Goodness, no. If they did, their arrivals couldn’t possibly be announced.” She smiled. “And at such events it is most important that everyone be announced.”

“Why?” His tone reflected astonishment more than curiosity.

“Everyone likes to hear their name, I suppose. To know they’re important.”

His sideways look at her suggested he felt a person shouldn’t need announcing to feel important. Kitty sighed. Perhaps he was correct.

Her excitement grew as she explained about the countless fine balls she’d attended in London, with the fabulous gowns, the handsome men, the dancing, the refreshments…

“Are ye born knowing all of this?” he asked when she stopped to take a breath. “How do ye learn it all?”

“Oh, but ‘tis not so—” At Hugh’s abruptly raised eyebrow, Kitty closed her mouth.

From the middle of the stone terrace, he stood staring, his eyes clouded, his expression perplexed, as though she had been speaking in a foreign language.

“I expect it’s a bit different for everyone,” she murmured, suddenly humbled by the fortune of her birth. “My parents are very social, so yes, I learned it all a little at a time as I grew up.” She pushed to her feet and wandered toward the wall overlooking the pool. “And there are a few advantages to being the younger sister, I suppose. For a long time I watched Ellie and Jenny and simply did what they did.”

Except when it came to men, of course. There she’d balked at the natural course of events, refusing to act like some sort of submissive virgin, lined up with the rest of the tittering debutantes for the inspection of the bachelor peerage, hoping to catch the attention of someone with title and wealth.

But her defiance had cost her dear.

And now look at me, going to such extreme measures to capture the attention of a man because none will have me on my own merit…

Staring out at the pond, sadness at her circumstances nearly overwhelmed Kitty, and she sighed. Weak fingers of sunlight poked through the clouds and shimmered across the water. A gust of wind tugged on her hat, but the chill that swept over her came from inside.

A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her from her musings. “Where did ye go just now, Lady Caroline?”

Slowly, she turned and studied his face. He was younger than she’d first realized. Not much older than Randall, perhaps. Certainly younger than Lord Strathern, yet with more experience in his eyes than even her father had. Those eyes regarded her steadily, showing deep concern and compassion.

“I… got lost in my thinking, I suppose. I’m afraid I’ve never considered how circumstances form us far more than we form our own lives.” She smiled but even to her it felt strained.

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze then dropped his hand and stepped back. “Tell me more about these extraordinary balls… more about — everything.”

As Kitty described London, and seasons, dinner parties and grand balls, she walked. She did it to keep warm. At least that’s what she told herself. It couldn’t be for any other reason. Not because she was having second thoughts about Lord Strathern. Certainly
not
because she was beginning to feel as though she’d just seen Hugh — the real man — for the very first time.

Hugh walked with her, almost as though they were strolling through the garden instead of pacing twelve steps in one direction, turning around and marching back, only to repeat the process. He interrupted occasionally with a question, but for the most part he listened in silence, sometimes giving a nod.

“Of course, we have nothing so splendid here in the country.” Unused to doing so much talking, Kitty swallowed, longing for a few sips of wine. Perhaps the next time she came to the follies, she could smuggle some port and a goblet. “Mama and Papa will hold their ball in the salon and guests who must travel great distances will stay at Rose Hill. We’ll have perhaps thirty people.”

Hugh stopped walking and gaped at her, but still he said nothing.

Shrugging, Kitty halted as well. “Some guests will arrive within a few days, and they’ll perhaps stay for several days afterward. Rose Hill has a wing just for those who need to stay.”

“Right.” Hugh nodded. “We should concentrate on the way ‘twill be here then. Who shall arrive first? Who announces the guests? When will
you
get there?” He ticked off his questions on his fingers.

Kitty giggled. “Mama and Papa will be there when the ball starts. Ellie will be late — she enjoys making a grand entrance on her fiancé’s arm — I think she does it to show him off. Jenny will slip in unannounced with her Captain Davies…”

Hugh angled a contemplative gaze in Kitty’s direction. “And
you
? When will
you
arrive?”

Kitty pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she mulled over his question. A chilly wind whipped up, spinning dust and leaves across the stones. “I usually come in with Mama and Papa,” she admitted softly.
If I’m already there, perhaps no one else will notice I have no escort.

Hugh’s eyebrows drew together.

“That’s the way I like it,” she added quickly, forcing a bright smile. “I enjoy watching the guests arrive, seeing who’s wearing a new gown and who is not.”

Hugh scrubbed his face with one hand, stalling the motion with his chin resting against his palm. “Do ye know which guests will be staying at Rose Hill?” he asked, his voice taut, as though he had to force the words out.

“Papa has invited a business associate, Lord Hufton. He and Lady Hufton reside in London all year, so I imagine they shall arrive early. Ellie’s fiancé lives in Newbury, and he often stays with friends here in Cranley.” She searched her memory for the names on the guest list but came up blank. “I imagine about a half dozen guests, or perhaps eight will come for an extended stay.”

He narrowed his eyes and pinned her with an intense stare. “And the man for whom ye have an affection? Where will he be staying?”

“Mm…most everyone will stay the night of the ball rather than travel home.”

Hugh’s jaw clenched again, and he seemed to struggle with something. After several deep breaths, he spoke again, his voice curiously flat. “Where will he arrive from on the night of the ball?”

“Oh, h-he lives nearby. In Strathern, at Ash Vale. He generally a-arrives from his home.”

Hugh’s lips tugged into a lopsided smile. “Ye’re goin’ ta hafta arrive a bit late to the ball, m’lady.” His mouth widened into a satisfied smirk. “Ye want the gentleman to notice ye, then ye’ll have to make a grand entrance.”

* * * *

Stark terror. That was the only description for the widening of Lady Caroline’s eyes, her sudden rapid breathing, the slight parting of her lips. But even though he knew it was fear that gripped her, Hugh’s mind took him to a vastly different place, one in which the fear in her eyes was replaced by desire, where her too-rapid breathing was the result of sensual awareness, where her lips parted in invitation for him to claim them.

He’d taken a half step in her direction before he reined in his ardor. Even if it had been a passionate response on her part, it wouldn’t be for him. Never for the likes of a lowly servant — worse, a stablehand.

“Come on, now. It’s not as bad as all that.” He shot her a grin. “I imagine ye’ve already got a scrap of lace and silk that ye’ll don and manage to fill out in the right places.”

He slid a glance down along her slender frame and then back up to meet her eyes.

Twin bullets of crimson bloomed in her cheeks, and she shifted her gaze to the ground with a subtle nod.

Just as he’d thought. Having sisters had taught him a thing or two, and apparently females were females, no matter their class. “Well, then, all that’s left is to figure out the timing of yer arrival.”

Lady Caroline turned away and mumbled something.

“What’s that?” Hugh restrained himself from reaching out and physically turning her to face him. “Did ye say something?”

The gusty sigh she heaved was one of long-suffering. “I said one reason I never arrive late is so I can avoid the inspection of the
ton
. Ever since—” She broke off and rolled her lips inward as if to lock away any further words.

“Ever since…?” Hugh leaned in for a closer look, wincing at the rigid set of her shoulders. Her eyes bore a pinched, haunted look. Tension seemed to roll off her. What the devil was she hiding? Apparently something dire.

“It was at the third ball I attended in my first season as a debutante,” she whispered. “A cousin escorted me. I was… eager to see my friends, to join in the dancing. I rather thought I was managing things well.” She grimaced. “We arrived at the ball… our names were announced…” A shudder traveled through her, so powerful her shoulders shook. “It’s silly, really… what happened. We were about halfway down the staircase. I could see Penelope and Cicely near the refreshment table. And I… misstepped. I tumbled feet over head to the bottom of the steps.”

Hugh’s mouth ached as he struggled to keep from smiling. From the look of mortification on her face, it hadn’t been a humorous time. “Were ye hurt?” he asked quietly.

Lady Caroline smiled and some of the tension eased. “In my pride, yes, as I sat at the base of the staircase with my dress yanked up above my knees, my shift torn and dirty, wrapped around my ankles.” She shook her head. “But no, I was not injured beyond a few bruises.”

He imagined she would have recovered, but being young at the time and privileged, likely she’d not learned to laugh at herself.

“Ever since then, I have made it a habit to arrive early and avoid any announcements.” She spread her hands. “So you see… a grand entrance is just not possible.”

Hugh stepped back and studied the young noblewoman hugging her arms about her waist. She’d never struck him as the wilting lily type. “Why not?” he asked.

“I — why, because— That is, I just told you.”

“Well, no… ye didn’t.” For her own sake, he’d not let her get away with such defeatist thinking. “Ye recalled an unfortunate happenstance is all.”

“Precisely!” Waving her hands about like a wild woman, Lady Caroline pounced on the statement like a cat on an unfortunate rodent. “Can you imagine trying to impress Lord Strathern and tripping my way quite literally to land at his feet?”

Hoping she didn’t see the smile that abruptly spread over his face at the thought, Hugh turned away. “Who knows what salacious perversions the man might have?” he muttered under his breath as he marched across the stones to the far side of the folly terrace. “Falling to yer knees in front of him might be the verra thing to get his attention.”

“I beg your pardon?” called Lady Caroline from several paces behind him. “What did you say?” Her footsteps scuffed across the stones as she scrambled to catch up with him. “Wait! I didn’t hear you.”

Hugh whirled about and advanced on her. “Maybe because ye weren’t meant to,” he growled harshly. When she recoiled, he softened his tone and switched tactics. “Did ye ever fall off yer horse?”

Lady Caroline shrugged. “A time or two when I was a child and first learning how to ride.”

“And what did ye do when ye fell?”

“I… I got — I got back on?”

Was she asking
him
what she’d done? Hugh resisted the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her until she rattled. “Well, that’s what ye’ll do now. Get back on the horse. Make yer grand entrance.”

Was it anger or mortification that painted her cheeks with deep ruby red streaks? She backed away, shaking her head. “I… I can’t. I won’t.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then ye’re on yer own.” He walked to the end of the terrace and stepped onto the path that would lead him through the woods.

“Wait!” she cried out, panic lacing her voice. “How do I get back on the horse? How can I make certain I don’t embarrass myself again?”

Another smile lifted Hugh’s lips but he schooled his features before he turned. “Ye practice. Be here tomorrow at the midday hour.” Then he winked, turned and ducked into the woods without looking back.

Branches scraped and clawed at him as he traversed the narrow game track. Hugh ignored the sting and burn in his face and neck and pushed on. The flames in his blood, though, were harder to ignore. If he hadn’t left when he did, he’d surely have grabbed her and kissed her senseless.

He shoved through the last of the tangled brush and stepped onto the path that would take him to the rear of the stable. No one wandered about the yard as he crossed to the heavy wooden door and pulled it open — thankfully with little effort and no squeaks or groans from the iron hinges. He slipped into the tack room and gathered a currycomb and brush. Then he walked with renewed purpose to Patty’s stall and pulled open the door.