Taming The Duke. Jackie Manning
I used to ride as a child.” Olivia spoke as though she hadn’t heard Alicia’s protest. “I’ll show you the view from where a waterfall spills into the pool overlooking the hills beyond.”
Alicia knew it would be best to refuse, but having a chance to converse with Dalton’s sister might be the perfect opportunity to learn more about him. The deep loneliness Alicia had perceived last night when he held her hand against his chest came as a shock to her. What she sensed was in direct contrast to the shallow image Dalton portrayed. “Very well, Lady Olivia. I’ll accept. But only a very short ride.”
“Splendid!” Olivia clasped Alicia’s hand. “I’ll call the maid to come inside and help you change. While you’re here, Marie will be your personal maid.”
“Should I ask Marie to instruct the stable master to saddle our horses?”
Olivia chuckled. “Forgive me, Lady Alicia, but I’ve already done so.”
While Alicia was changing into her riding habit, Olivia moved about the small cottage, staring in utter disbelief. “My brother must have used a London decorator. Everything is lovely,” she said finally. She studied the elegant bedroom—the Belgian lace coverlet and curtains, the enormous porcelain bathtub. “I’ve never seen a more beautifully shaped tub!” Pale pink cabbage roses, made so popular by Empress Josephine, were painted along the border of the chamber walls.
The maid finished buttoning the tiny jet clasps along Alicia’s jacket, then stepped back to allow Alicia room to see herself in the gilt-framed threeway mirror.
“You look lovely, my dear,” Olivia exclaimed. “The Prussian blue suits your lovely auburn hair and dark eyes.”
Alicia smiled at the compliment. She hadn’t worn the habit since her coming out three years ago. Her smile faded with the memory. The maid placed the wide-brimmed hat atop Alicia’s head and stepped back. “What thick, shiny hair. It’s a shame to cover it,” Marie said.
“Thank you,” Alicia said, feeling pleased with the way she looked. Vanity was a sin, she reminded herself. Never had she cared about finery, but for a moment, she wondered what Dalton would think if he saw her dressed so becomingly.
She immediately drew back in self-censure. She cared nothing for what that man thought.
Half an hour later, Olivia’s golden mare cantered easily beside Alicia’s spirited filly. “Havencrest is one of the most beautiful estates I’ve ever seen,” Alicia said finally. Besides immaculately groomed riding paths, the views from the verdant, rolling countryside were breathtaking.
“Havencrest has been in the family since the Tudors. When father died last year, Dalton inherited the estate along with the title.” Olivia gave her a sideways glance. “My poor brother. As though he’ll ever enjoy the titled responsibilities.”
Alicia’s curiosity rose. “Why not, my lady?” So far, she had learned very little about Olivia’s brother. It was as though Olivia felt guarded to talk about him.
“Dalton is much too unsettled to enjoy the country life. Only Bashshar’s injury keeps my brother here.”
Of course, Alicia realized. How could she have forgotten what men of the ton were like. Gambling halls, racetracks and beautiful women. Olivia was right. Men like Dalton could never appreciate the pastoral beauty of Havencrest. Yet Dalton had seemed genuinely concerned about Bashshar. A thought struck her.
“Lady Olivia, does your brother plan to race Bashshar?”
Olivia raised a brow. “Bashshar’s sire was an Arabian racer, bred to our English Thoroughbred.” She paused. “My brother’s dream was to see Bashshar win the Newmarket Classic this year.” She sighed. “Now, there’s little chance that will happen.”
So that was the reason Dalton was so desperate for Bashshar to recover. He was concerned with the money and prestige that came with owning a racing champion. The knowledge somehow deflated her spirits.
“I believe Dalton said your family owns racing stock, Lady Alicia. Have you a racehorse entered in an upcoming heat?”
Alicia smiled, thinking of Jupiter, her first racing colt to come from their stable. “My two-year-old has promise. I’m hoping to enter him in the Newmarket Classic this year as well.”
Olivia looked impressed. “I wish you the best.” Before she could say more, the sound of galloping hooves hammered along the path. She looked up to see two riders galloping toward them. Tall, elegantly dressed, both men rode with the agility of experts. They gallantly brought their horses to the verge, allowing Alicia and Olivia the right away.
“Lord Theodore Clitheridge and Lord Templestone,” Olivia greeted the men warmly before introducing Alicia to them.
Lord Clitheridge doffed his hat, staring at Alicia with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. “My compliments to your father, Lady Alicia, for having such a lovely daughter.”
Alicia smiled graciously, despite Lord Clitheridge’s veiled hint that he knew of her damaged reputation by mentioning that he knew her father. No doubt he obliged himself not to give her the cut direct out of deference to Lady Olivia. Alicia would rather show ignorance to his innuendo than let him see her dismay.
The second man, Lord Templestone, was dressed in pink satin and lace at his neck and cuffs. Alicia thought he looked like an overstuffed boudoir pillow.
Templestone tipped his hat. “I’ve never met your sire, Lady Alicia, but your beauty and grace do him much honor.”
Alicia thanked him. Beside her, Olivia chatted with ease. If she was aware of the men’s intimation, she gave no sign. Although Alicia had yearned to ride, she should never have accepted Olivia’s invitation. Those who hadn’t known of her scandal would soon hear of it from those who knew. She forced a brave smile and met the men’s curious glances with confidence.
“Sorry to hear of Dalton’s stallion’s accident,” Lord Templestone said to Olivia. “Bad thing, that.”
“Bashshar is improving nicely,” Olivia answered.
“Heard the horse took quite a beating.” Templestone brushed at the sleeve of his riding jacket.
“You’re misinformed.” Olivia’s smile exuded charm, but her voice held an edge that wasn’t present before.
Lord Clitheridge looked as if he were going to say something when his attention was diverted to a man and woman racing across the green, directly toward them.
Alicia gazed at the riders. She felt a lump in her throat when she recognized Dalton, astride a pure white Arabian stallion. The lady riding beside him was perched sidesaddle atop a dun mare. Beneath the narrow-brimmed hat she wore, the woman’s gold hair shone like a newly minted coin. As they approached, Alicia noticed the lady peer at her with growing interest.
“Sister, I see you’ve met Lady Alicia.” Dalton made no move to introduce Alicia to his beautiful riding companion.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.” Olivia glanced toward Alicia. “Have you met Lady Alicia Spencer?” she asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s perfect features froze into a mask of distaste. With undisguised rancor, she turned to Dalton. “Shall we take the upper path?”
Elizabeth’s failure to acknowledge her, especially when Olivia had directly asked Elizabeth a question, was a cruel cut directed at Alicia.
Dalton’s expression gave no notice, but Alicia thought she saw a flinty look in his blue gaze. “You’ve picked a lively mount, Lady Alicia. Mischief enjoys testing a new rider. I warn you, she’s not as meek as she appears.”
“Don’t worry, your grace. Neither am I.” Alicia refused to remain and subject herself to further abuse. She whirled the spirited filly around. “Excuse me, please,” she said to Olivia before she turned the mare in the direction of the stables.
Almost immediately, the sound of a horse galloping