‘I could ask you the same question, you know.’ Her brows rose enquiringly. ‘Why do you not simply choose a beau and marry him? That would stop your uncle importuning you further.’
‘I have no beau, Lord Frensham, nor do I wish for one.’
‘Forgive me, but does that not augur a lonely life to come?’
‘I shall not be lonely.’ Her tone was defiant. ‘I intend to live with someone dear to me.’
She had not meant to say so much and he immediately pounced. ‘If he is not to be a husband, who is this mysterious person? I am intrigued.’
Her answer was as brief as she could make it. ‘My brother, Rupert.’
‘I see.’ But it was evident that he did not, for he looked genuinely puzzled. ‘And where is brother Rupert?’
She could not answer him directly, but said in a confident voice, ‘He will be home very soon. And when he comes, we will make our plans for the future.’
‘Will not your brother have his own plans for marriage?’
‘No,’ she said decidedly. ‘Rupert and I are twins. We have always shared our lives and always will.’
‘Then Rupert is a lucky man.’
They had reached the tethered horses and she knew that she had stayed too long. Jack Beaufort was an attractive man, she acknowledged, but that was all. His confession that he was not about to make her an offer of marriage was a huge relief, one concern less, but he could still prove dangerous. She was sure that he had not recognised her as his attacker, but at any moment she might give herself away without realising. Her safest path was to keep well clear of him. Safest for all kinds of reasons: the unexpected pleasure she’d felt in his company was a warning and she should heed it.
‘I must return to the house and speak with my uncle,’ she said quickly, ‘but I wish you enjoyment of your ride.’ She glanced across at Sir Francis’s stolid beast. ‘Though you might find it something of a struggle, I fear.’
The pirate’s grin was back. ‘You speak truly, Miss Lacey. A bigger sluggard you could not find.’
The encounter had given Jack much to ponder. He could hardly believe the girl he’d met this morning was the one who had stood dumb and drab at her uncle’s side last night. He did not know what game she was playing, but when he’d literally bumped into her, he’d been staggered at the transformation. A shapely figure was shown to perfection by the close-fitting riding costume she wore. The dress of sapphire velvet made a perfect foil for the cornflower blue of her eyes while her complexion, untouched by any trick of the hand, was smooth and clear, delicately flushed from the morning ride. Wisps of golden hair escaped from a Glengary cap of blue satin. She was quite lovely—what a revelation!
Lovely and spirited, he thought, as he rode slowly back to the house. She was no simpering miss, for sure: her eyes could dance with mischief and she was capable of the sharpest retort. When she’d thought herself being forced into an unwanted liaison, she had fought hard and he could not blame her; he knew how it felt to do battle with an intransigent family. Once she’d realised that she was safe from the threat of matrimony, she had relaxed into a different girl. He had enjoyed her company and found himself wanting more. But he should nip in the bud any interest she aroused, for, spirited though she was, she was also young and inexperienced and no match for a worn lover such as he.
He wondered where the years had gone since Julia had left him humiliated. Years spent in every kind of sport, in travelling, drinking, gambling, in careless affairs. Not one of those so-called friendships had had meaning. And here he was at thirty, still escaping the noose his sisters intended, still unable to put the past behind him. He shook himself, trying to banish the invisible shroud that had settled around his shoulders. He must make for Merry’s as soon as he was able. He was missing all the fun.
Or was he? The gathering would be like every other exclusive house party he had attended in the past eight years: he would play the congenial guest among the men, the attentive swain with the ladies, and return to London as bored as he’d arrived. The attraction of Hampshire did not seem quite so strong now and he fell to wondering why. Was it the girl? Had she got under his skin without his realising it? She was a beauty beneath that nonsense of last night, and she intrigued him. This business about living with her brother—but that would die a natural death when either or both decided on marriage. There was more, though. He sensed an unease that lay just below the surface of life at Verney Towers. The house was spartan, lacking all comfort, lonely, too. Lucinda appeared to live a solitary life, her uncle enclosed in his own small world and her brother nowhere to be seen. There had been something in her manner when she spoke of her twin that suggested trouble. That made him curious.
The horses in the stable block whinnied softly as they picked up the sound of his approach. Only a single lad was at work, busily washing down the cobbled yard.
‘Did you enjoy your ride, my lord?’ he asked cheekily.
‘No, I did not. There was never a more stubborn beast.’ He slipped from the saddle.
‘He has his notions, like his master.’
Jack thought it best not to enquire too closely of the boy’s meaning. He pulled a stray cigarillo from his inside pocket and lit it with a sigh of contentment. The smoke curled upwards in the clear air and he stood smoking for a while, leaning against the warm wood of the stable shutter. As always, it helped him think. What had possessed Francis Devereux to invite him when he must have known that his niece would react with animosity? Did the man genuinely believe in a foolish promise made years ago, or was his invitation more practical than that?
Lucinda Lacey had never been to London, it seemed, never enjoyed a Season or had the chance of finding a suitable husband. Was the baronet hoping to marry his niece off with the least amount of trouble? If so, the man must have been delighted to receive Georgina’s letter. Jack cursed his elder sister for her interference. She had always been too keen on minding other people’s business and Hester had happily joined forces with her, chorusing together that their brother must marry, and marry soon, to ensure the succession. As very young women they had dutifully agreed to the liaisons arranged for them and had little understanding of their brother’s revulsion at being bound to a woman he hardly knew. Now Maria had joined the fray. She had taxed him for showing no interest in the young women he’d met or at least not the kind of interest that led to wedlock. What could be better, she had said in her soft, die-away voice, than to bring two old families together by choosing this young, unspoilt girl who had known nothing but a quiet country life? What indeed!
The lad had almost finished rubbing down Sir Francis’s mount and Jack sauntered towards him, gesturing at the row of partitions. ‘You run a small stable.’
‘Three horses, sir. Enough for me.’
‘Three? Where is the third?’
‘She’s a little shy.’
Jack craned his neck and glimpsed a half-hidden stable at the far end of the long building. He walked towards it. An odd circular wooden door appeared to have been cut into its farthest whitewashed wall.
‘Where does that strange-shaped door lead?’
‘I don’t rightly know, sir. It’s been locked since I started here.’
But it was the horse that interested Jack. He would have liked a choice of mount this morning, but had been given none. ‘What’s her name?’
‘That’ll be Red. She’s a chestnut, a real beauty. Belongs to Mr Rupert.’
Rupert Lacey’s name seemed inseparable from this morning’s conversations.