She wandered back to him and smiled. “Shall we sit?”
He followed her to a shaded spot. She sat on the ground, pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. He sat in the grass propping his arms on his bent knees, anxious to hold onto the magic woven around them by passion. He was going to tear a hole in that magic with his next words.
How to begin? He had no idea. There was so much he wanted to say, but fear of her rejection choked him. He sat there with her eyes on him, and questions on her face. Damn, this was hard. He cleared his throat.
“I need to confess something to you, and I’m not sure how you will take it.”
She shifted, tucking her legs under her and leaned forward. “John, there’s nothing you cannot tell me.”
“I’m not a nice man.”
She laughed. “I doubt that.”
“Honestly, Victoria. I’ve done some horrible things in my life.”
“I’ve heard the gossip about your sisters, John.”
“And yet you let me kiss you, touch you….”
“Because that was the past.”
“My father said that the past shapes our present and future. That statement haunts me.” He pulled at the grass around him, tossing it aside. “As does what I put my sisters through.”
“You’ve made amends with your sisters, John. Why do you still feel regret?”
“A gentleman would never have behaved this way. I let gambling and greed change me into a monster. I was – am – a vain, selfish being. What if I become that man again? What if I let greed consume me again?”
Victoria tilted her head to study him before looking out at the pasture. “Greed is a tough one, I will agree to that.”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you dream of something, want something so badly, and not feel greedy when you get it?”
“I wish I could answer that question.”
She titled her head. “Why are you telling me these things?”
He leaned forward and took her hand, tracing the lines on her palm with his thumb. “This isn’t a flight of fancy for me, Victoria. I used this business with the Jockey Club to have an excuse to come back to Beetham. To come back for you.”
She gasped and her eyes widened.
“I don’t deserve you, but I want to. I want to leave the anger, the greed, the jealousy that caused me to do those horrible things to my sisters behind. I want to be worthy of you.”
“John—”
He placed a finger on her lips. “Let me finish before I lose my nerve.”
“I think you have the courage to finish.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Before Anne and my sisters came here, we lived together in my Sussex estate. My father had remarried after my mother had died. Given his treatment of her, it was a blessing she was gone. My father wasn’t a good man.”
“How so?”
“He was manipulative. He never laid a finger on her. Or me, but the constant corrections, criticisms, expectations were just as torturous. Anyway, he married Anne’s mother and preceded to have three girls. I was envious of the time he spent with them. He doted on them while I couldn’t do anything right. Frankly, it was a relief to go away to school then university.”
“I think you’d find that all of us have things about our parents that we don’t like.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.
“It’s not just that. It’s that I’m afraid that I’m capable of the same thing or capable of repeating the mistakes. I’m so like him.”
She leaned forward, and squeezed his hand. “Our childhood shapes who we are, but we can change that. Frankly, we should change that. I’ve always felt that part of growing into an adult is selecting those traits we most admire in our parents.”
“Do you take after your father?”
“Lord, no. I’m more like my mother. Or I’d like to think I am.” She grinned at him. “If you apologized to your sisters, why do you still torture yourself?”
He glanced at the horses. “I haven’t quite figured out how to get past the guilt. I see how happy they are and I’m thankful, so thankful, that they found a safe place. I’m happy that they’ve married well. It could have gone horribly wrong.”
“But it didn’t.”
“But it could have.”
She laughed. “You aren’t God, John — something you should be very happy about, honestly.”
“You need to know that I’m not that man, Victoria.”
“I know. I’ve known it for a while.”
He longed to pull her into his arms, but still felt like he didn’t have the right. The mood had taken a serious turn. He’d said his piece, and she’d accepted it. He wasn’t sure she trusted him, but at least she hadn’t rejected him. He gave her a teasing smile. “Any dark secrets you’d like to share with me?”
A startled look danced across her face.
“Other than you don’t dance.”
She laughed. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It is scandalous how lacking your education is, Miss Penwith.”
“My education went in other directions, I’m afraid.”
“Did it really? Enlighten me.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Not that kind of direction, Sir John. I am a proper young lady.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
“I have had three engagements, though.”
This surprised him. He’d known she’d been jilted, but not much more. “Really?”
“I’m eight and twenty years of age, not some naive miss.” She pulled her knees in. “They were interested in our stables and breeding methods more than me. Eventually it came out and they left.”
He frowned. “They were fools, Victoria. And I’m thankful you didn’t end up married to one of them.”
“Really?”
“Shall I show you how very pleased I am?”
“Yes, please.”
He grabbed her hands and pulled her close. She tumbled into his lap with a laugh, the awful hat she’d used to shield her eyes from the sun tumbling to the grass. He brushed her braid back over her shoulder and gazed into her laughing eyes. She made him happier than he’d felt in a long time. She made him think of home, heat-filled nights, and children.
Her legs stretched out as she wiggled on his lap. He clamped his hands on her hips to hold her still.
“Are you going to kiss me now?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughed and brushed his thumb across her lips. “This mouth is going to get you in trouble, my dear.”
“Promise?”
“And here I thought you were such a proper young lady.”
“I’m also a woman who knows what she wants, John.” She pressed her mouth to his, her lips parted. While her kisses bordered on innocent, there was a passion driving her. She pressed closer, her fingers clutching his shoulders, his hair.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Not so proper”
“No. Is that a problem?” Her voice was soft, husky.
“Not for me. I like this side of you, but then I already like you a great deal too much for my own good,” he whispered.
Her fingers lightly touched his face. “I like you a great deal as well.”
“You have to know, Victoria, my intentions are honorable.”
“Not too honorable, I hope.”
“Victoria!”
“Kiss me, John. Show me passion.”
He bent his head and took her mouth determined to infuse all his unsaid feelings into kiss after kiss until she had no doubt about his feelings for her. He teased her lips with tiny nibbles, then caught her bottom lip between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.
His hand found the buttons of her waistcoat and quickly unfastened them. He slipped his hand beneath the wool to feel her curves beneath her thin linen shirt. His heart thudded as he discovered she wore no stays, just a thin chemise and warm skin smelling like lemon and sunshine.
&nb
sp; He should stop. It wasn’t proper and Victoria deserved a proper courtship complete with dances, flowers, and all the trimmings.
But he couldn’t. He needed. He craved. He yearned.
He cupped her breast gently in his hand and she jerked in his arms. He eased his hand away, afraid he’d pushed too hard, too fast against what she would allow.
“Sorry,” he whispered against her lips. He trailed his mouth along her jaw and down her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin. She tilted her head to ease his access.
“Don’t be sorry and don’t stop.”
He lifted his head and looked into her beautiful face. Her mouth was swollen from kisses. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes cloudy with passion, her breathing fast. “You are, by far, the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
She kissed him again and he let her carry him away into the firestorm that was building around them. She took his hand and placed it on her breast, giving him permission to touch her. His mind blanked out and his instincts took over.
He gently maneuvered her onto her back in the grass, and leaned over her. He wanted to strip the shirt off of her. Bare her to the sun then kiss all that glorious skin, but he hesitated.
“John, please.”
He groaned. “You aren’t making this easy, Victoria.”
She brushed his hair from his forehead. “Good.”
“I’ll not have our first time be in the grass. I won’t disrespect you that way.”
“Even if it’s what I want?”
“Yes, because you deserve more than a quick tumble in the grass.” He kissed her again then eased his body beside her. He ached with desire, but for once in his life, he would do the right thing. He would not sully the feelings he had for this woman beside him to assuage his baser instincts. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.
He pulled Victoria into his arms so that her head lay on his shoulder and she was tucked up against him. Her hands toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat.
“Your heart is racing,” she whispered with awe in her voice.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m afraid I’m quite enthralled with you, Victoria.”
“Good.”
They cuddled together in the shade as the afternoon passed with the noise of buzzing insects and birds. A light breeze blew cooling the passions of earlier and John felt his body relax almost in slumber. It would be like this when she was in his bed, in his arms sleeping. He found he couldn’t wait for that day to come.
“John?”
“Yes, love.”
“You are a good man.”
He couldn’t speak. He could only tighten his hold on her and kiss her softly. Her words touched something deep inside him, healing, cleaning away some of the guilt and regrets he’d chewed on for the last three years. He hoped he could live up to her belief in him forever.
Chapter 8
The afternoon was waning as John entered his sister’s house. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. The time he had spent with Victoria had given him cause for hope. He wasn’t ready to go to her father, but he was close. He had to be sure when he asked, she’d say yes. He wasn’t sure, yet.
He made his way to the library at the back of the house, hoping there was a tea cart or something there. He’d missed luncheon and was starving. If Matthews was in the library, there was a good chance that there would be a heavily laden food cart there as well. The man was always eating. Matthews glanced up from his ledger as John entered the room.
“Mucking the stalls must have done you some good,” Matthews said. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Why does everyone seem to think I don’t like work?” John muttered. He glanced around the room. Where was the damn tray?
“What are you looking for?”
“Food. It always seems to appear when you are in this room.” He poured himself a small brandy instead and plopped into one of the larger chairs.
“I take it that you spent time with a certain young lady?”
“That would be correct. Her father insisted she show me their stables and pastures.”
“Is there an engagement announcement coming soon?”
“Why isn’t there a tea tray? It’s tea time.”
“Tea time was several hours ago and you’re avoiding the question.”
“Because it’s none of your business. Ring for tea. I’m starving.”
Matthews rang for the tea tray. “Mucking horse shite does give a man an appetite.”
“Indeed, it does.”
Matthews set his pen down carefully. “Should I expect a visit from Penwith demanding you marry his daughter?”
“Bloody hell, Matthews. What do you take me for?”
Matthews shrugged. “Just remembering my inability to maintain decorum around the woman I loved. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Apparently, I have more self-control than you do. Nothing happened that would send her father storming down here making demands.” Much.
A maid appeared with a tray loaded with sandwiches, a large tea pot and tarts. Matthews motioned her to place it on the table nearest John. He wasted no time filling a small plate with several sandwiches and tarts. Biting into one, he almost moaned.
Matthews relaxed. “This is ending quite tidily for both families. Penwith gets his membership and you get a wife.”
“See what planning will get you, Matthews?” John grinned and tucked into his plate. This was all going to end nice and tidy. He had not always been fond of a tidy life.. It was boring, expected, predictable. But this worked. He’d have a partner in life who had the same passion for horses as he. He’d have a woman to make a home with. He’d have someone who loved him, and whom he loved in return. Yes, he could get used to this kind of tidy.
A footman appeared in the doorway. “Sir, Mr. Luke Connells to see you.”
“Connells, why would he be here?” Matthews said.
John sat up. “He’s probably here to see me.” He turned to the footman. “Send him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Connells stomped into the room still holding his hat with the footman behind him trying to take it from him. “Sir John, we have a major problem.”
John stood. “Give the man your hat, Connells, and come in.” He moved to the sideboard, poured another brandy, and handed it to Connells. “What has you so angry?”
Connells down the brandy in one gulp. “You aren’t going to like this. Sir John.”
John had learned to trust his gut when his life went to hell three years ago. The old twinge in his stomach, that feeling of doom weighed on him now and gave him pause. “What is it?”
“Martin Penwith has been bribing jockeys so that his horse would win races.”
“Not possible. I’ve seen that horse run. It’s lightning fast,” Matthews said.
“Including your own jockey, Sir John.”
“Tim? Impossible.”
“Tim has a bit of a gambling problem and got into some trouble in Lancaster this past spring. Penwith approached with a solution. He took it.”
John set the plate down, his appetite lost. “How did you discover this?”
“He told me at the pub. He was deep into his cups when he did. He’s been feeling guilty about it for months.”
John cursed. “Is Tim the only one? Or are there more?”
“Tim is our only real proof, but he says that Penwith has been putting out feelers at all the races for those jockeys wanting to make a bit of money on the side.”
Matthews met John’s gaze. “This will be difficult to prove. No one will admit to taking money to fix a race.”
“The horse is a winner,” John said. “I’ve seen the horse race. This makes no sense.”
“Perhaps Penwith wasn’t so sure about his horse,” Connells said.
“The man is obsessed with being in the Jockey Club,” Matthews said. “He’s already bragging that he is sure to gain membership.
John shrugged
. “Why am I’m not surprised.” He glanced over at Connells. “Do you think other jockeys will talk to us?”
“Doubtful. It would cost them their post and their career in racing. As it is now, your own rider is at the pub sweating out his own decision to talk. Frankly, had he not had a few too many pints in him, I doubt we’d find out.”
“Why did he talk now?”
“He knew he should have won the race.”
John sat up in his chair, his heart thumped. “What do you mean?”
“You had the better horse.”
“We’ve raced against that horse three times and lost.”
Connells met his gaze with a hard one of his own. “I know.”
“Bloody hell.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “This is not to be believed. How can Penwith afford to do this? Matthews, what do you know of the man’s history?”
“Penwith has done well with his stables and has considerable land that brings a fair profit, but he’s by no means an extremely wealthy man.”
Connells stood to refill his brandy glass. “He’s not rigging every race, sir. Only those where the odds of winning put his bet on his horse to an advantage.”
“But he is rigging the damn races.” John stood and stormed to the window to look out onto the park trying to wrap his head around this news. How was he supposed to tell Victoria? Victoria. He turned back to the window staring out but not seeing the thick green foliage.
“I hate to heap on more bad news, Townsend, but given her involvement in the day to day running of the stables, there is a good chance Miss Penwith is neck deep in this mess.”
He pressed his lips together. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. Victoria just didn’t seem like she’d be involved. Maybe Sims, the stablemaster. “She’s not involved.”
“You don’t know that, Townsend.”
He turned back from the window. “Explain.”
“She’s got to be in this neck deep. She’s doing the training.”
He crossed his arms, determined to defend the woman he loved. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m going to need more proof. For all of it. Your jockey is hearsay. If I can get others to come forth, then we have evidence. Once I have all the evidence, Penwith will not be allowed to race again,” Connells said. “But as of right now, there is no way I’m going to attest to Mr. Penwith’s membership.”
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