Who Needs Mr Willoughby? (16 page)

Behind her, Matthew grunted as he reached the refectory table and deposited two picnic baskets. “What did that woman put in here?” he complained as he flexed his hands. “Iron crockery? An entire haunch of venison?”

“Your ego, maybe?” Marianne retorted. “Like I said, God knows it’s big enough.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but despite his show of irritation, Marianne caught her breath as his gaze met hers. Those eyes, so flinty and silvery-grey…she could swear he saw straight into her soul sometimes. As if he saw her, the
real
her, stripped bare of artifice, stripped bare, indeed, of anything. It was unnerving.

But exciting, at the same time…

“Ah, here you are. I was hoping to find you, Marianne.”

She blinked and turned around. Kit Willoughby, wearing riding breeches and boots, his face flushed and his dark hair windblown from a gallop across the fields, strode across the lawns and held out his hand to her.

“Kit,” she managed, and put her hand in his as her heart quickened. “Hi.”

“Will you come with me for a quick ride before the others arrive?” he asked her. His glance flickered to Matthew. “Sorry, Brandon, but I want Mari to myself for a few selfish moments.”

Marianne withdrew her hand and turned to Matthew. “If you don’t mind –”

He made a dismissive gesture. “Go. I’ll get back to the kitchen and fetch the rest of the baskets.” His glance flickered to Kit. “Willoughby.”

“Brandon.”

The veterinarian left and returned to the kitchen, his long strides eating up the distance as he went. When he’d disappeared into the house, Kit turned to Marianne.

“Ready?”

“Of course. Let me just run in and fetch a pair of riding boots.”

He nodded and waited as she ran back across the lawn and in through the kitchen door. As she bent down in the hallway to grab a battered pair of Hunters, she heard a footstep behind her, and whirled around clutching the boots to her chest.

“It’s only me,” Jack said.

“Damn it, Jack! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” Marianne retorted. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, but the amusement in his eyes made it plain he wasn’t. “Off riding, are you?”

She nodded and rested one hand against the wall as she tugged on a boot. “With Willoughby.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said tartly, and tugged on the other boot.

“It’s plain he likes you. But then…Kit likes
all
the ladies.”

She straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. He meets a lot of women in the training ring, is all. He’s very popular with the female riders.”

“I imagine he is,” Marianne said, affecting indifference even as his words gave her pause. “After all, who wouldn't want to train with someone as – as talented as Kit Willoughby?”

“Talented? Is that what you call it?” He lifted his brow and grinned. “I’m sure he is…in many ways.”

“What do you do around here, anyway, Jack?” she demanded. “Besides sneaking up on people and making rude comments about Lady Violet’s guests?”

He thrust his hands in his jeans pockets. “I work over the Roderick place in the afternoons, since you ask, grooming Max Roderick’s horse. He’s a show jumper, and a good one, too. There’s a competition coming up next weekend.”

Marianne lifted her brow. “Maybe you should go, and take your friend Lacey along.”

He shot her a sharp glance. “Lacey? What makes you say that?”

“I saw you give her your phone number at Lady Violet’s dinner.”

He shrugged. “So what if I did? She’s a bit goth for me, but…who knows? I might give her a bell.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Willoughby’s waiting.”

“I’m sure he is.” He smirked. “Enjoy your…ride, Miss Holland.”

“I will,” she said with a trace of irritation. Jack Fenwick and his cheeky double-entendres began to wear thin. “You can be sure of it.”

He looked about to say something more, but changed his mind. “Right. Well, I’ve other things to be doin’ with my time, at any rate.”

So saying, he turned and sauntered away down the hall.

Chapter 25

“Marianne,” Willoughby called out as she emerged from the kitchen and he strode across the lawn towards her, “are you coming?”

“Yes, sorry.” She came down the steps. “I couldn’t find boots to fit me properly. I feel like one of the three bears – one pair too large, one too small…” Why had she let Jack’s comments about Kit get under her skin?

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

“Never that.” She met him halfway across the grass and took his proffered hand, and together they walked to the stables.

Unlike the last time they’d ridden, after they mounted their horses and trotted out of the paddock, they progressed across the field at a leisurely pace.

“Do you mind riding to Allenham again?” he asked. “My aunt’s goddaughter is visiting. They’re both coming to the picnic. I can introduce you if you like.”

“I’d like to meet them,” Marianne agreed, “but there isn’t time.” She glanced back at Barton Park. “The picnic starts soon. And I really shouldn’t leave Matthew or the other guests behind. It’d be rude of me to abandon everyone.”

“I doubt Brandon will take offence. The man has a hide like a rhinoceros.” He tightened his grip on the reins. “What’s he even doing here today?”

She glanced at him in surprise. “Why do you ask? Are you jealous?” she teased.

“Jealous? Of a country veterinarian?” He let out a short laugh. “Hardly. I wondered why he was invited, that’s all.”

“He’s a friend of Lady Violet’s,” she replied, and shifted in the saddle. “He’s her vet. And he’s my employer. We could hardly leave him off the invitation list.” She frowned. “Why? Don’t you like him?”

“I like him well enough. I just don’t see why a man who spends most of his time with dogs and sheep and ailing animals – and who’s known to be markedly unsocial – should want to spend the afternoon at a picnic with us.”

“By ‘us’,” Marianne said, her words even, “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean. I hope you’re not suggesting that Matthew doesn’t measure up to the – the social standing of the other guests?”

He drew up sharply. “Of course not. His father owns Delaford, after all, one of the biggest estates in Hadleighshire.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” She cast him a quizzical glance. “He almost married your sister, Kit, didn’t he?”

Willoughby’s expression tensed. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“He broke the engagement. And he broke Philippa’s heart.”

“Is that why you don’t like him? Because of your sister?”

“Marianne,” he said, and reached out to take her bridle, “I promise you, I don’t dislike Brandon. I’ve got nothing against him, and nothing but admiration for his work in the clinic. And I certainly don’t have any illusions of social superiority over him. A picnic just doesn’t seem to be his thing, that’s all. Now…” he leaned forward over the pommel, and brushed his lips against hers “can we please drop the subject of Brandon, and ride out to Allenham and enjoy each another’s company for a little while longer?”

***

“Are you enjoying the picnic, Edward?” Elinor asked politely as he sat down next to her at the refectory table. The breeze flapped the skirts of the tablecloth and murmured through the leaves of the oak tree overhead.

“Very much.” He set down his plate and eyed it in approval. “I hardly know where to begin, there’s so much amazing food on offer. The Battenberg cake in particular was calling my name.”

She smiled, even as her heart sank. It was exactly as she’d feared – Edward and she would talk, and smile, and chat about inconsequential things, as if the state of the weather or the exquisite lightness and texture of mum’s cake were the most fascinating topics in the world.

“I haven’t tried it,” she told him as she picked up her fork and speared listlessly at a scotch egg. “But I hear it’s very good.”

Marianne’s words echoed in her head, taunting her.

“…you haven’t got a job to occupy your time, or a proper boyfriend to hang out with. Oh, you have Edward, but only for the next few days – nice, boring, perfectly mannered Edward – who never bothered once to call you, or text, or anything, because he’s incapable of sharing his true feelings for you. If, that is, he even
has
any feelings for you.”

Edward dropped his fork to his plate, cleared his throat, and turned to her. “Elinor – Miss Holland – there’s something I need to tell you. Something I wanted to tell you before, but we were interrupted –”

“Edward, darling, there you are,” Harriet trilled. She bore down on them with a tall, slim woman in tow. “I’d like to introduce you – and Elinor, of course,” she added as she flicked a glance at the eldest Holland sister, “to Mrs Eugenia Smyth. She’s Mr Willoughby’s aunt.” She turned to the tallish, elegantly dressed woman. “This is my brother, Edward.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mr Ferrars,” Mrs Smyth declared, and extended her hand. “Your sister speaks very highly of you. Very highly indeed.”

A few minutes later, with introductions made and handshakes and pleasantries exchanged, Edward pushed his chair back to stand and glanced over at Elinor.

“If you’ll pardon me, ladies,” he announced, “I need to burn off a few of these calories. I’ve promised to take Miss Holland for a walk across the lawns. Haven’t I, Miss Holland?” he inquired as his eyes met hers.

Her heart quickened. “You have,” she murmured, and rose as well to take his outstretched arm.

Harriet’s eyes narrowed as they left. “But you haven’t met Mrs Smyth’s goddaughter. She’s here today, you know, and she’s single, and quite lovely –”

“Good God,” Edward muttered, and let out a breath of exasperation. He turned round and smiled and waved at his sister. “I’ll meet her later, I promise,” he called back. “I look forward to it.”

With a sigh he turned back to Elinor. “Sorry about that. Let’s get out of here before Harriet has me saddled and bridled and put up for auction like a prize stallion at Tattersall’s.”

She laughed. “What a sight
that
would be.”

“It’s not at all funny, I assure you. Harriet’s driving me mad with her matchmaking schemes. My sister’s determined to see me married…so I can be every bit as unhappy as she was, and in exactly the same way as she was, I sometimes think.”

Elinor stopped. “She and Thomas weren’t happy?”

He came to a stop as well and turned to her, a look of distress on his face. “I’m sorry; it was thoughtless of me, and stupid in the extreme to say that. Thomas was your half-brother, so of course you don’t want to hear me saying such a thing –”

“It’s all right.” She smiled at him in reassurance. “We all suspected as much, although he never said a word against your sister.”

“Harriet’s a difficult person.” He sighed and resumed walking. “And that’s putting it mildly. But I honestly think she was as happy with Thomas as she could ever manage to be with anyone.”

“If that’s true, Edward,” Elinor said lightly as she took his arm once again, “then I think your sister was very lucky, indeed.”

Chapter 26

“There it is. There’s Allenham Court,” Willoughby called out to Marianne from astride his mount.

She followed his gaze up the grassy slope to a stone castle with extensions jutting out on each side, its rooflines crenellated and a tower rising up at each end. Ivy clambered up the walls and rooks cawed overhead; a pair of peacocks strutted across the lawn.

“It’s brilliant,” she called back, her face dimpled in delight. “Like a fairy princess’s castle.”

“I hope to call it mine one day.” He turned his head and fixed his blue eyes on hers. “It lacks only one thing,” he added, and grinned. “A fairy princess.”

Marianne blushed.

She gripped the reins and followed his horse as it cantered through the stream and up the hill, nearer the castle. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the stables, to give the horses water, and a rest. Then we’ll head back.”

“My mother and Lady Violet will be annoyed with me if I don’t get back soon.”

“I won’t keep you away much longer,” he promised, and dismounted as they neared the stables. He held the reins in one hand and extended the other to help her down. “But I mean to keep you to myself, just for a few minutes more.”

Marianne laughed, even as her heart fluttered with excitement. “You’re a very selfish man.”

“I am. And I make no apologies for it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

With the horses fed and watered, Willoughby took her hand once again and led her inside the haymow. No one was around. The sweet smell of the hay filled the air, crunching under their feet, and Marianne heard the distant cawing of the rooks outside as he turned and took her in his arms.

With no fear that her mother or sister – or, indeed, anyone – might see them, she relaxed into his embrace and pressed her body freely to his, and her arms slid around his neck. Their kisses were more impassioned, hungry, and desperate with need than ever before. She made no protest as he pulled her down beside him into the soft, fragrant hay and covered her mouth with his.

“My sweet Marianne,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers as he drew her atop him and tangled his hands in her hair. “I adore you.”

“Not half so much as I adore you,” she whispered, and reached out to retrieve a bit of hay from his hair. She rained kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck.

He groaned, and laughed, and pushed her gently away. “Stop, Mari,” he breathed, and sat up on one elbow, “or you’ll start something I might not be able to stop.”

She pouted and drew a strand of hay along the bottom of her lip. “But I don’t
want
you to stop. I want you…” she paused, and blushed. “I want to be with you. Here. Right now.”

Desire warred with regret in his eyes as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. “We can’t,” he said, and sighed as he rested his forehead against hers. “As much as I want to – and believe me, I do – I think too much of you to go at it here in the haymow, where anyone might walk in on us.”

“I don’t care,” she insisted.