A Ring of Midnight Orchids: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 3)

by Jackie Williams

  Angelique took a hesitant step nearer to the dark haired man. Lord, but he was handsome. If she had thought to bring her fan, she might have wafted a cool breeze over her heated cheeks. Her heart began to flutter, her insides flipped over and over. How strange he made her feel. How wonderful and warm. His smile made her giddy. The tones of his deep voice thrummed through her veins.

  A deep voice that now mocked her attempted escape. She narrowed her eyes as the warmth left her. He was laughing at her, finding her actions risible. It was unfair seeing that this was all his fault. It was he and his friend who had caused her endeavour to escape.

  “I think I have changed my mind, my Lord.” She stopped, huffing out an impatient breath as he raised a dark eyebrow and waited for her to use his given name. She gave into him. It seemed the easiest thing to do. “Very well, Lucas. You know I wasn’t interested in learning to ride at this ungodly hour. I was attempting to leave this place. Unfortunately I hadn’t considered the difficulties. There is more to riding than I imagined.”

  Lucas returned the saddle to the box and came back to her.

  “Why did you try to run away, Miss Lancer? And in the middle of the night? You could have fallen, been thrown, or become lost. Footpads might have set upon you, highwaymen would have meant you harm. Anything may have happened to you.” His voice was tight with concern as he stared down at her.

  Angelique shrugged her delicate shoulders.

  “What would it have mattered? Would you have cared? It seems that I am nothing but a burden to everyone.” Her lips quivered through her miserable attempt at bravado.

  Burden? More layers of guilt settled on him. What had this woman gone through to feel that she was such an encumbrance?

  “You are no burden, Miss Lancer, as you would have known if you had come out of your room before now. The library is quite at your disposal as are any of the other areas of the house and gardens. There is a quite delightful music room overlooking the terrace, and a balcony on the second floor with excellent views over the dale. Perhaps you would care to join me at one of them for breakfast?”

  Angelique glanced back at the horses. Three big heads nodded at her, long eyelashes blinking slowly over large, gentle eyes. Even the temperamental Blaze didn’t seem too bothered by her presence. She turned back to Lucas, a tentative smile playing about her mouth.

  “Very well, I apologize for my stubborn nature, though in my defence, your words did distress me, however, that is in the past, and we must move forward.” She gave a quick sigh, and a bracing smile. “Breakfast overlooking the dale sounds wonderful, though I will need you to promise me something, my Lord. Er, Lucas,” she corrected herself rapidly.

  Lucas breathed a sigh of relief.

  “If it is within my power.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he would do anything for her. Anything! Let her find out later that he was as soft as fresh made dough in her hands.

  She smiled more brightly.

  “Two things actually. The first is that you promise to teach me how to ride so that I can visit the hunting lodge that you mentioned.”

  He nodded instantly as he stepped around her, lighting her way to the door.

  “It would be my very great pleasure. I will escort you as soon as I think you are safe to ride. And the second thing?” He waited impatiently, heart beating hard as he hoped she wasn’t going to ask that he let her go. It wasn’t possible. He hadn’t heard from Pierce yet. Not that he wanted to hear from his friend any more. The man might not give him the response Lucas wanted to hear. Namely that the wedding had been cancelled.

  She tilted her head and brushed past him, picking up her pillowcase as she walked by. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyelashes fluttering in the lamplight.

  “The second thing is that you call me Angel.”

  Chapter Eight

  A Good Dressing Down

  “I can’t do anything with this! It is lovely, but Lord Caruthers sister must have been about twelve when she last wore it.” Mary exclaimed as she tugged hopelessly at the line of buttons on the riding habit.

  Angelique pulled the dress from her shoulders.

  “I did think he was hopeful, but the other option he offered is scandalous! I don’t know if I dare.” She stared at a pair of buff coloured trousers, a white linen shirt, and a fitted jacket that lay on the bed.

  Mary stared at them too.

  “Utterly scandalous, but I don’t think anyone who matters is going to see you. It is not as if you are heading into town to hobnob with anyone of import.” She picked up the trousers, holding them to Angelique’s waist. “These look to be much better fit. His Lordship has clearly grown considerably since he last wore them.”

  Angelique stepped out of the too small a riding habit and lay it back on the bed.

  “Might as well get on with it. Lucas will be waiting for me.”

  About to hold the trousers open for her mistress to step into, Mary stopped mid bend, suddenly straightening again.

  “Oh! So it’s Lucas now is it? We have become very familiar with his Lordship over breakfast. Only yesterday afternoon he was apparently the worst man in the world, but something has changed since this morning. Your eyes have a different type of sparkle.”

  Snatching the trousers from her maid’s hand, Angelique laughed.

  “Now you are being ridiculous. I simply realized that I could better make my escape if I actually knew how to ride.” She didn’t mention her thwarted night-time attempt. Or how she had felt when Lucas had spoken so intimately in her ear. There were some things that a maid, especially an old and kindly but very opinionated and nosey one, did not need to know. “When Lucas suggested that he teach me, of course I leapt at the offer. No point in cutting off my nose to spite my face.” She pulled the trousers up her legs, fastening them as best she could. They dropped low on her hips. She blew out a frustrated breath. “Not that I guessed I would be expected to wear his old clothes.”

  Mary raised a greying eyebrow as she passed Angelique a sash.

  “They are positively indecent, but there is nothing for it if you are determined to learn how to ride this morning. Best tie them up with that sash or you will be revealing a lot more than the shape of your thighs! Good heavens, girl! Not that high and tight! You can see everything! I never dressed anyone in such scandalous attire. Lord only knows what your brother would say if he could see you now.”

  Angelique finished tying the sash, and bent to turn up the hems of the overlong legs before picking up the shirt and pulling it over her head.

  “Perhaps it is best that he has left me to fend for myself then.” She muttered as she shoved her arms into the sleeves. The cuffs fell over her hands and Mary rolled her eyes as she reached out to fold them to a reasonable length.

  After tucking the shirt into the waist of the trousers and slipping on the jacket, Mary looked sceptically at the selection of boots Lucas had supplied. A pair of dainty boots sat on the floor beside a pair of far larger hessians.

  “I think you would be better served wearing your own shoes. It’s not as though you don’t have new slippers now, but it is your choice. I can always stuff the end of the boots.” She glanced between the hessians and Angelique’s feet.

  Angelique picked up the larger boots. The leather was soft, warm to her touch.

  “You are probably right, but my shoes have heels. I might get them caught in a stirrup, and I doubt I will get more than my big toe in Lady Daisy’s boots. I’ll have to stuff these, but at least I will be able to get them on.” She blinked down at the well worn but still shiny boots. They smelled of polish and leather, and a hint of something else. Something familiar. Her heart leapt once again. Lucas’ own scent lingered in the air.

  His clothes had been laundered, leaving only a slight smell of washing soap, but his boots felt more personal. His feet had shaped the leather, his stride causing the crease across the toes, and his calves had worn the insides smooth. They shone with a good gleam, but there was still a scuff
or two visible here and there. Not the sort of job a master would have accepted from his staff. Had Lucas looked after his own footwear?

  She recalled polishing her father’s boots and his terrifying shouts if they were not up to his exacting standards. But this was no time for those kind of memories. She shook them from her mind as she took the wadded up cotton that Mary held out, shoving the pads deep into the toes of the boots.

  A moment later, she stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, staring in near horror as she realized exactly how much Lucas’ attire revealed.

  Lucas paced impatiently, his boot heels echoing on the cobbles. How long did it take to pull on a pair of trousers and a shirt? Granted, she had probably never worn trousers in her life, but the alternative he had presented her, would never fit.

  He tried to feel bad about lending Angelique the tiniest riding habit in his sister’s closet, but couldn’t quite manage it. To be fair, he hadn’t expected anything to be left in Daisy’s old room at all, especially not riding dresses, but when he had asked Mrs. Granger if there were any suitable clothes in the attics, she had surprised him by showing him an array of fine gowns still hanging in a wardrobe.

  “They have been here for years. Your mother always left something behind so the packing for the next time was kept to a minimum. I know that your sister hasn’t visited in years, but I never had the heart to remove them. The fabrics are so beautiful still. Couldn’t bear to let them moulder up in an attic.” The woman ran her hand over the still sumptuous silks.

  Lucas agreed with her. The colours and styles still had such grace and elegance.

  “Quite right, Mrs. Granger. It is just as well you thought as much as I have need of something now.” He delved into the wardrobe.

  Of the three habits on offer, to Mrs. Granger’s disapproval, he chose the smallest.

  “But that will never go around Miss Lancer. She might be small but she has curves in all the right places. Miss Daisy hadn’t filled out when she wore that one. The red satin would fit far better.” The housekeeper narrowed her eyes at his choice as she considered the garment.

  Lucas grinned and winked at the woman.

  “I know, but I prefer the green.” He hadn’t punished Angel for trying to escape, and wasn’t going to, but he was going to make sure she paid for her misdemeanour.

  And he was going to make sure that he would be the beneficiary of her payment, even if she didn’t yet know it. He took the minute habit before heading back to his own room and pulling out an ancient set of clothes that he had probably last worn when he was sixteen. The trousers would be too big around the waist and probably too long in the leg, but with a tie and a turn-up they would fit her better than any of Daisy’s old clothes. And they would look far more enticing. The thought of Angel’s delightful figure shown in all its glory for his personal delectation had beads of sweat forming on his brow.

  He handed his selection to Mrs. Granger.

  “See that these are sent to Miss Lancer’s room. And please tell her that I am waiting in the stables. She knows where they are. She visited them last night. Apparently she was restless,” he added at Mrs. Granger’s curious expression.

  Mrs. Granger pressed her lips together for a moment before shaking her head and sighing.

  “Very well, my Lord. If that is what you want. Would you like me to take her some boots too?” She glanced at the footwear in the bottom of his wardrobe.

  Lucas pulled out a pair of his oldest boots. The first pair of hessians he had ever owned. He remembered the day his grandfather gave them to him as if it were yesterday, the joy that he had felt. He smiled at the memories the boots conjured. So many glorious days galloping around the estate, and so many happy times as he sat polishing the boots each evening under his grandfather’s expert guidance.

  The leather was soft and worn now, and the polish not as shiny as it should be, but though he had long outgrown them and had owned and worn out many other pairs of boots since, he had never been able to throw these ones away. And as young as he was when he had first worn them, they would likely be far too big for Angel’s dainty feet. She would have to stuff the toes.

  “Give her a choice. I believe I saw some of Daisy’s old boots in her wardrobe. Take a pair of them just in case they fit, and these too.” He passed the boots to the woman who stood quietly beside him.

  She gathered them with the rest of the clothes but looked up at him, startled.

  “But, my Lord, these are your first pair of proper riding boots. You have never let anyone touch them. I swear that even Evans wasn’t allowed to polish them for you. He always became annoyed at the lack of shine you put on them.” She referred to his grandfather’s long dead valet.

  Lucas smiled fondly.

  “Then it’s about time they were taken out of the wardrobe and given an airing. Perhaps I’ll get Miss Lancer to polish them later, see if she can raise more of a shine on them than I ever could.” He winked at his housekeeper who huffed indignantly.

  “You will do no such thing. Asking a lady to polish your riding boots indeed! The very idea!”

  Lucas had let out a laugh as she gathered the clothes to her chest and bustled out of the room.

  Now, as he paced the stable yard, he wasn’t so confident about his choices of attire. What if she simply refused to wear his clothes? He wouldn’t blame her. It was a scandalous thing that he suggested she do, but he hadn’t been able to resist the thought of her wearing his old riding gear. The intimacy of it almost overwhelmed him.

  His conscience pricked. Was it too much intimacy? Another wave of guilt swamped him. He was a prize clod! Of course his old riding apparel was unsuitable for a lady to wear. Whatever had he been thinking!

  Horrified at his crass behaviour, he was about to rush back inside and rummage in Daisy’s wardrobe for a larger, more conventional habit, when he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around, having to fix the welcoming smile on his face as he rooted his feet to the ground.

  My God! What a temptress! And he was tempted beyond all reason! The devil laughed at him from his shoulder. Whoever had he thought he was punishing by making her wear those clothes? This was going to be a morning of intense discomfort for him, and it was all of his own making.

  The trousers he had sent to her room were pulled up high on her waist, tied rakishly with a flowing periwinkle sash. His boots almost came over her knees, and his shirt hung loosely from her frame, the open neckline drooping low, leaving virtually nothing to his imagination. The deep black jacket only added to the allure, showing off the bright colour of the sash. With her hair in a loose bun at the back of her neck and tendrils already escaping, she had the air of some kind of wildly romantic female pirate.

  He swallowed hard and willed his cock into submission. It didn’t give in gracefully and he found himself feeling intensely grateful that, even though the day was warm, he had remembered to button his riding jacket.

  “Miss Lancer! At last.” He motioned for her to follow him into the stables.

  She hurried after him.

  “Angel. You agreed to call me Angel.”

  He stopped at the stable door, but kept his eyes on anywhere but her.

  “So I did. Well, Angel, we will begin at the beginning, with you tacking up your mount.” They walked inside the stables together, her delicious, enticing scent suddenly covered by smells of hay and animal. Relief washed over him. At least the smell of horse, rather than midnight orchids, meant that he might now be able to concentrate. “You will be riding Molly, my sister’s favourite mare here at Perrydale. She’s slightly older, but extremely reliable.” He led her to a stall and made a gentle clicking sound with his tongue. A dun coloured head suddenly appeared over the rail, the horse’s nostrils flaring as it sniffed out its visitors.

  “Hello, Molly.” Angelique reached up and rubbed the horse’s velvet nose before looking up at Lucas. “I hope your sister won’t mind me riding her horse.”

  Lucas leaned back against the wall.

>   “No, not at all. She’s not been here for several years. Molly belonged to my grandfather. Daisy just liked to ride her most.” He paused as he watched the bewitching woman. She didn’t tremble or shy away from the unfamiliar animal. “Not nervous then?” he remarked.

  Angelique shook her head.

  “Perhaps a little, but only because I’ve not ridden before. They seem so much bigger when you know that you are about to mount one. I love horses. My father owned several beauties. I often cleaned out the stables, but I was never allowed to ride any of them.”

  He could have sworn that his ears began to burn in rage. Cleaned out the stables! Good God! Could it be true? There was no guile in her expression as she stroked the horse’s muzzle. Lucas stepped away from the wall and scratched higher on Molly’s head as he looked down upon Angelique. He couldn’t think of this dainty fairy shovelling filthy bedding and manure.

  He swallowed hard as he bit back any disparaging remarks. The horses would pick up on any anger. A nervous animal didn’t make for an easy ride, especially for a beginner.

  “And your brother? He didn’t think to teach you.” He kept his voice level.

  She shook her head.

  “He wasn’t allowed to when we lived at Landsdowne, and I had a carriage at my disposal all the time I was in London. I suppose he never thought to ask if I wanted to learn.”

  A reasonable answer.

  “Never too late. Come, let me show you how to put the bridle on. We can saddle up afterwards.” The next few moments were taken up in explanations of different straps and how to put the tack over Molly’s head. The horse had the good grace to remain perfectly still as Angelique fumbled with the leather, but at last it was on.

  Lucas gave a satisfied grunt before he strode to the rack where the stable lad had placed several saddles. He glanced back at Angelique before selecting the second smallest one.

  “This is Molly’s. It’s old and a little worn, but perfectly adequate still. Like the clothes.” He commented as he hefted the saddle down and moved back to the stall where Molly stood patiently waiting.