Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  She reached the tree, brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. After tying the mare to a nearby sapling, she removed the plaid and book from the saddlebag and spread the blanket on the ground beneath the tree. When she'd settled on the blanket, she set the book on her lap, but turned her attention to the water.

  How would she fill her time once she was free of the encumbrances of marriage? Spend days like this, contemplating the world and her place in it? Now that her sisters were married, exactly what was her place in the world? She groaned. Surely, the answer couldn't be that, without her sisters, she had no place. She closed her eyes and released a breath. She would find plenty to do once she dealt with her supposed groom.

  The clop of a horse’s hooves on the soft ground caused Chastity to yank her attention toward the sound. A rider took shape in the mist. She tensed. Strangers seldom rode across Roxburgh land. She never worried about encountering anyone. She recognized the horse an instant before she realized who the rider must be. Sir Stirling sat erect in the saddle, his hand casually resting on the pommel where he gripped the reins.

  How had he found her? Irritation flashed. Her father, of course. He knew this was a favorite spot of hers. She was a fool to think she could find any peace here—or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Sir Stirling angled his horse toward her mare, brought it to a halt, dismounted, and tied its reins to the same sapling. He strode to her haven and lowered himself onto the plaid.

  She frowned. “It is highly inappropriate for you to come here alone to meet me.”

  He met her gaze. “No more inappropriate than you riding alone." His words, spoken casually, held a tone of finality.

  "Do not think to take me to task for doing something I have done since I was fifteen."

  "Your father doesn't care that you ride alone?" he asked.

  Her father wasn't aware of her every move. "This is Roxburgh land. It is rare for anyone to happen along, certainly not anyone threatening. We are quite safe here.”

  He nodded as if he understood, which piqued her ire.

  "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

  His brows rose in polite surprise. “We had a morning engagement to ride together."

  “An engagement that you were late for by forty minutes. I finally decided to set out on my own."

  "I believe I arrived at five minutes to eleven. That would make me five minutes early."

  Chastity stared. "Early? You were forty minutes late. You were to have been here at ten. You were very precise on that point."

  He angled his head. "My apologies. Forgive my tardiness.”

  The man was patronizing her. "You don't believe you were wrong."

  "I have apologized."

  She shook her head in disbelief. "An insincere apology. You are placating me."

  “I am easy to get along with. Would you rather I insist that you were wrong?"

  "You-you—" Chastity let out an unfeminine growl and shoved to her feet. The book on her lap fell to the ground. "You know exactly what you are doing." She whirled and headed for her horse.

  She ignored the pad of boots behind her and mounted her mare. Sir Stirling reached his horse as she urged her mare into a trot. Two heartbeats later, the pounding of a horse’s hooves approached. She hunkered down and dug her heels into her horse’s flanks. The animal broke into a gallop. Wind whipped her hair across her face. The fog had thickened.

  "Chastity!" he shouted. "Stop!"

  Already, he was ordering her around. She gave her horse its head. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine flying.

  He pulled up alongside her. "Don't be a fool," he shouted. "The fog is too thick to ride like this."

  Now he was telling her how to ride on the property where she'd grown up. The mare started up another hill. Chastity's stomach swooped. Sir Stirling edged closer, and she realized he intended to seize her reins. A large tree loomed in the mist. She yanked the horse's reins left and brought the animal in a huge circle then stopped. Sir Stirling joined her.

  Chastity glimpsed the hard set of his mouth before he said, "Do you feel better?"

  She didn't, and she remained silent.

  He gave a nod. "Shall we return to Gledstone Hall?"

  Chastity clicked her tongue to signal the mare forward, but Sir Stirling grabbed the reins and said, "At a sedate pace, if you will."

  He was right, of course, which only peeved her even more. "As you wish."

  He released the reins and she touched the mare with her heels. Sir Stirling waited until she passed and then flanked her.

  "Gledstone is this way, my dear." He veered left.

  Chastity scanned the area. Fog swirled everywhere, but she'd grown up exploring these hills. She knew how to get home.

  "Listen to the water, Chastity," he called. "It is on your left."

  She strained her ears, but heard only the beating of her heart.

  Sir Stirling stopped and turned his horse toward her. "I spent half my life on water, lass. We want to keep the water to our left in order to reach Gledstone."

  When was the last time she'd been lost on Roxburgh land? The holding was not so large that she would easily get lost. But she didn't typically ride in such thick fog. Her father would be furious that she’d gone out in this weather. She could plead ignorance—only mist had drifted off the water when she left Gledstone—but her father wasn't in a charitable mood. She doubted he would care to hear her explanation.

  Chastity urged her horse toward Sir Stirling. She reached his side and they rode in silence. She knew she’d lost this battle when a patch of fog cleared enough for her to discern the loch to the left, where Sir Stirling said it was. She was no fool—not completely anyway—and kept her horse to a walk beside his until Gledstone took murky shape ahead. They veered right and, minutes later, rode into the stables. Sir Stirling leapt from his saddle and reached her as she was stepping to the ground. Michael, the groom her father had recently hired, emerged from one of the stalls and hurried toward them.

  "I will see you at dinner, Chastity,” Sir Stirling said.

  “I will tell Cook," she replied stiffly.

  He shook his head. “You and your father are coming to Kinlochie Castle tonight."

  "What? I have never heard of Kinlochie Castle. Is there a ball there?”

  “Kinlochie Castle is my home here in Inverness. The place isn’t so grand as to host large balls. Never fear, you may host large parties at my estate in Lossiemouth.”

  “My father said nothing to me of us dining away from Gledstone."

  He flashed a smile. "I spoke with him this morning, before I came looking for you."

  Her heart sank. So, her father knew she left before Sir Stirling arrived. What difference did it make? Sir Stirling had been late. She was not obligated to await his convenience.

  Tonight, she would be as late for his dinner as he'd been for their ride.

  Chapter Two

  When the firm knock came to Chastity's door at four-thirty that afternoon, she hurried from the window she stared out of and sat on the couch. She schooled her expression into one of polite disinterest and bid the newcomer—her father, no doubt—enter.

  The door opened and the duke stepped inside.

  His eyes flicked from the dress laid out on the bed to her. “Tell me, Chastity, what have I done last month that would convince you that I am incapable of carrying out every threat I have made?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing."

  "Yet you sit there and aren't dressed for dinner."

  "You can do nothing more to me than what you have planned," she said with an airy wave of her hand.

  "Whether you marry today or the day after tomorrow matters not?" he asked.

  She lifted her shoulders in another careless shrug.

  A gleam entered his eyes. “Then perhaps the choice of groom might matter."

  Chastity frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "All actions have consequences, Chastity. You believe I will let your behavior go unch
ecked?” Dread slithered along the inside of her stomach. "The special license I have obtained does not specify the groom."

  She forced calm. "The groom is Sir Stirling James. He has worked hard for the honor of carrying on your title. He is not about to give that up."

  Determination glinted in his eyes. “I am the Duke of Roxburgh. Sir Stirling cannot stop me if I decide to marry you to another man."

  Her heartbeat accelerated. "And what if Sir Stirling should decide he doesn't want me, what then? Will you force me to marry Lord Hathaway?"

  Fury flashed in his eyes. “Aye.”

  An answering anger swept through her. “Your three younger daughters have married. If I do not, the title will fall to Olivia and her husband upon my death. You have assured that the title will not die. They are happy. Why must you insist I marry?"

  He drew back his shoulders. "My word still means something—even if yours does not. It was you who proposed this arrangement. It is your own fault that you didn't believe I could find someone to take up your challenge. I did. Therefore, Sir Stirling deserves his reward."

  "Yet you continue to threaten me with marriage to Lord Hathaway—at the risk of breaking your own word to Sir Stirling."

  "Aye, because you continue to defy me at every turn. Mark my words, if you try to thwart Sir Stirling, I will marry you to Hathaway."

  "Mark my words, Father. If you marry me to Lord Hathaway, I will guarantee that you have no grandchild from our union."

  His gaze sharpened. "Then his bastard will take my title."

  She gasped. "You would rob Olivia of the title just to spite me?"

  "Nae.” He shook his head. “It is you who would do that. I know exactly what you plan. You intend to avail yourself of all the advantages of my title until the day you die. Then you will leave the title to Olivia. It is unfair that you get the advantages and shoulder none of the responsibility."

  "None of the responsibility?" she cried. "I have been responsible for your three daughters the last eight years."

  He nodded. "Aye, and that was wrong. I should have remarried. But after your mother died I—" He broke off.

  Chastity stared. She knew her parents’ marriage had been a love match, but she hadn’t considered that her father might have felt her loss as keenly as they had.

  "You still miss her," Chastity whispered. "You never said anything."

  He shrugged. "What should I have said? A father doesn't burden his daughters with the loss of his wife when they have lost their mother. I was wrong not to remarry." A strange look entered his eyes. "All of you girls—you in particular—would have been better off with the guiding hand of a mother."

  She fought tears. "We did well."

  He lifted a brow. "Indeed? You hate marriage and I have no idea why."

  "It isn't that I hate marriage," she said. "I simply do not wish to be governed by another man."

  His gaze softened. "Has life been so bad living under my protection?"

  In truth, she had generally done as she pleased. But that she was not going to admit.

  He nodded slowly. "I believe I see. Under my protection, you have lived as you wished. With a husband, however, you fear that freedom will be lost. You are right. No husband would allow his wife to do exactly as she likes in all things. I was wrong to allow you so much freedom."

  "See!" she exclaimed. "That is exactly the point. Men live as free as birds. Women, however, have no power to make a man do anything—including treating them properly."

  "You're wrong.” A shadow flickered across his face. “Women wield great power. Your mother owned me body and soul.”

  "So you say." Chastity snorted. "Mama had to get your permission to spend your money. The property she owned became yours."

  "Nae,” he cut in. "Her property remained hers. Even now, Lenydale is in your name."

  "What? But the law—"

  "The law does not compel me to take possession of her property."

  "Perhaps not, but it allows you to take it."

  "If I please. But I didn't. Contrary to what you believe, Chastity, some men do believe women are intelligent.”

  "Being intelligent is well enough. But we must hide our intelligence—as you counseled Olivia to do."

  "You would have sent Olivia to a university filled with men, teachers, and students, who believed she shouldn't be there? Do you believe she would have returned home unscathed?"

  Chastity started. "What do you mean?"

  "You know exactly what I mean."

  "Surely you don't believe anyone would've harmed her?"

  He gave her a disgusted look. "I thought you had more sense. Most men—and women—are not so enlightened as to accept that women are equal to men. She would have returned home with her dignity—and her virtue—ripped from her. Now get dressed for dinner."

  "I will relinquish the title to Olivia."

  "You will dress for dinner."

  "What does it matter who carries on the title?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "By God, you would have me leave you in spinsterhood to rely upon the goodwill of your sisters and their husbands?"

  "A thousand pounds a year will support me."

  "Not very well."

  "Well enough," she insisted. "If Sir Stirling truly does not want me, then release me from my responsibility."

  He studied her. "You would rather give up your place in the family than marry?"

  She scowled. “I am not giving up my place. I will still be the eldest sister of the clan."

  He hesitated and she pressed the advantage. "You would be assured of the proper training for Olivia’s son as the next duke. I wouldn't be reaping the rewards without the penalty."

  "You cannot avoid Sir Stirling. You cannot run away. You cannot say no if he says yes. No matter what, if he gets ye to the altar, then you must produce an heir." She started to reply, but he added, "Defy me in this in any way, and I swear on your mother's grave that I will divorce you from Sir Stirling then marry you to a young vicar who believes it’s God’s will that he govern his wife with an iron fist."

  "Done," she said.

  What had she to lose?

  ***

  Stirling sipped his wine, then set the glass on the table beside his dinner plate and politely listened as Chastity explained to his dinner guests, Mister Dorring and Lord Allensby, how the duke’s young groom had broken their new gelding. The duke must have had a talk with his daughter. She was being far too accommodating, and that worried him. He much preferred a frontal assault like the one this morning. At least then he knew what she was up to. This…this was dangerous. They’d been late to dinner, which was exactly what he’d expected after he kept her waiting nearly an hour this morning. But she’d been a different woman than the one he’d left at the stables this morning. He would have to talk with the duke and find out what had happened, then ask him to kindly stay out of the way.

  Her gaze caught on his face and she flashed a sweet smile. Yes, this troubled him far more than her obstinacy. There wasn’t a chance in heaven or hell that her father had convinced her to go meekly to the altar. What was the minx planning? Maybe she planned on boring him to death? He hid a smile. Nae, not that one. She wasn’t capable of being boring for more than an evening, and that, he suspected, was part of a larger plan.

  They finished dinner and the six men adjourned to the drawing room with the promise that they would meet the ladies in the parlor once they’d had their cigars and brandy. Stirling couldn't remain focused on the conversation. It bothered him not knowing what Chastity was thinking. Until now, she had been an open book and he’d easily kept one step ahead of her. If she drew from the feminine arsenal, the more common tactic of backhanded manipulation, he might be in trouble.

  "Where is your mind, Stirling?” the Earl of Allensby broke into his thoughts. “Certainly, not with that pretty girl you are to marry?"

  Stirling couldn't help a laugh. He hadn’t been this distracted by a woman in ten years, maybe never, in fact. "
Can you blame me?"

  Allensby grinned. "If a man must be shackled to a woman, she isn’t a bad choice.”

  Stirling was aware of the duke’s attention, so lifted his glass of brandy and answered honestly, "I couldn't agree more."

  They finished their cigars and all took their brandies to the parlor where, to Stirling’s relief, Chastity was engaged in a game of cards with the three ladies. She didn't look his way, but he felt certain she was aware of his presence the minute he entered the room. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

  Chastity suggested the men join them for cards and she didn't shoot daggers at him with her eyes when he pulled a chair up alongside hers and sat down. As the evening wore on, Chastity did seem at ease. Stirling had just begun to relax a bit himself—the brandy didn't hurt on that score—then he noticed Linda Dorring staring at him. She didn't yank her eyes away as he expected and he stiffened when a slippered foot traced a line up his calf.

  What the bloody hell? Stirling hadn't known Dorring long, and had no idea if he and his wife had an arrangement, but he didn't dally with married women even if their husbands looked the other way. And he wasn't pleased with her overt behavior. If Chastity noticed, it could be the justification she needed to end their engagement. And there it was, he realized. Linda Dorring’s sudden interest in him was too convenient. Chastity had to have sanctioned her advances. Stirling shot Linda a thin-lipped look, then shifted his legs beyond reach of her foot.

  She thrust out her lip in a very pretty pout that disgusted Stirling. He couldn’t believe Dorring didn’t notice his wife's behavior. But then, maybe he did and ignored it. He might be too accustomed to this sort of conduct.

  They finished the game and Stirling rose. “Who would like more brandy?”

  The men all agreed more brandy was a good idea. To Stirling's relief, the women rose. Chastity crossed to the open balcony and stood on the threshold. He filled glasses with brandy and handed one to each man. When he grabbed his glass from the sideboard, he saw that Chastity had disappeared. She must have gone out onto the balcony.

  Fortunately, everyone was engaged in conversation. He slipped out and found her leaning her elbows against the railing, staring out across the darkened hills. She looked over her shoulder as he approached and he glimpsed the roll of her eyes before she turned away. He repressed a smile. This, he understood.