Dangerous Joy

by Jo Beverley

  "By which I mean the hunting visitors, not the poor local residents, who have to put up with a winter congregation mostly sleeping off the effects of Saturday night's carouse."

  "I doubt they're so poor, with all these well-heeled men about."

  "True. It is a thriving place these days."

  A brisk walk in the winter sun was delightful, particularly when it was accompanied toward the end by the bell summoning the congregation. The church had the beauty that comes of hundreds of years of prayer, and the service was simple and devout. By the time they emerged to chat with the local people, it was hard for Felicity to remember that she was supposed to be oppressed.

  As she walked back, arm in arm with Miles, she said, "I wish we knew what Rupert was up to."

  Miles touched her hand lightly. "Relax, cailin. He'll be here any day, and we'll know when it happens because he'll contact you."

  "Relax!" That touch had been for comfort, she knew, and yet it had jolted through her as a surge of raw, desire. She pulled her arm free and put space between them. "If I could just be sure Kieran is safe..."

  "Have faith in my mother."

  "I'm trying. I'm trying."

  Chapter 18

  Upon their return, they all settled with relish to a leisurely luncheon. Afterward, however, preparations began for the party. In fact, since Sunday afternoon was the traditional time for dealing in horses in Melton—stables, they called it—guests could arrive at any time.

  Lucien, Hal, and Stephen headed out to visit other establishments for a little while, but Miles planned to stay in the Vauxhall stables since so many men were interested in purchasing his horses.

  "I suppose I'm to be left here to set tables and arrange flowers." Felicity's resentment was genuine. She was pining for horses.

  Miles surprised her. "Am I so cruel? You can come with me if you behave yourself. As a representative of Foy, you have a place."

  Felicity was very tempted to slip completely out of her part and hug him.

  Quietly, he added, "And it'll be a fine chance to show rebellion and make contact."

  Not long afterward, they walked through the garden toward the stables, accompanied by a lively little cat. The stables at Vauxhall were not as extensive as the stud establishments at Foy or Clonnagh, but they certainly were magnificent.

  "Faith," said Felicity as they drew close to the main block, "anyone would think this was a fine manor house." In truth, the elegant proportions and long windows all gave that impression.

  "This whole place was built only five years ago for Lucien when he came of age. In both elegance and efficiency, I'd say they are the finest stables in England."

  Felicity was reminded of a certain teasing conversation with the marquess. She couldn't help but blush. How could she have been so bold? It was interesting, though, that Miles had admitted jealousy. How exciting to know she could drive him wild just by flirting with another man....

  She forced her mind back to equestrian matters, for they were entering the stable block by a handsome mahogany door. Felicity found herself merely in a corridor, but surrounded by fluted pillars and a vaulted ceiling. "Lord above, it's a cathedral!"

  "All England worships the horse, and what more worthy creature is there for veneration?" Miles directed her through to one area full of loose-boxes and the wonderful smell of horses.

  Gardeen leaped at a wisp of straw.

  "Is she likely to disturb a rat?" Felicity asked. "Annie will be extremely displeased if anything happens to this one."

  "A rat? Bite your tongue. Would such a creature dare to invade this holy place? And besides, there are both terriers and cats to keep down pests." He scooped up the small cat anyway. "Those terriers and stable cats might object to an invader, however, and have her for lunch. You'd better bare your claws, little one."

  Felicity started, realizing those words had actually been for her. The head stable groom was coming forward to greet them, and various grooms and underlings were around, preparing the place for Stables. Any one of these men could be the type to gossip about the wild Irish hoyden kept guarded up at the house.

  Any one might have a message for her.

  She raised her chin and put stiffness in her walk. "Trust the English to build a palace for horses and leave the peasants in hovels."

  "The Irish peasants are often less well housed than the ordinary people here."

  She sneered at him. "Faith, you'll be agreeing soon that the English are God's own people!"

  "Not at all." Miles was the perfect picture of the weary guardian. "Are you not interested in the horses, Felicity?"

  "The only ones worth looking at will be Irish."

  "Now there, my dear, you might have a point."

  There were loose-boxes for twenty horses here, and Miles told her there were as many on the other side of the building. Most of the horses in this section belonged to Miles, and Felicity inspected them with interest.

  They were all fine beasts, as she had expected. She was interested, however, to come across one she knew—Argonaut, the horse which had almost come to grief twice through her fault.

  "How did he get here?"

  "He was always intended for Lucien. I sent him over as soon as we arrived at Clonnagh."

  Argonaut was stirring memories of her first meeting with Miles, followed by memories of her thwarted elopement Felicity glanced at Miles and suspected he was visited by similar torments.

  "Don't even think of it," he murmured. "Grim guardian and wayward ward, remember?"

  The servants were politely busying themselves elsewhere, but some were still in this area. Unsure if she were acting or not, Felicity moved closer and laid her hand on his arm. "But what should a wayward ward do?" she teased softly. "Especially when subject to such a handsome, clashing guardian?"

  His jaw tightened. "Behave herself for fear of consequences?"

  "Or seduce him to her cause." She slid her hand up, over his chest, and stroked the side of his face. "Which could lead to most interesting consequences..."

  He seized her hand. "Like pregnancy," he said under his breath. He looked quickly around. "Are you pregnant, Felicity?"

  Her wrist burned from his hand around it. "I won't have a hint for a week or more."

  "But you wouldn't want to increase the risk, would you?" He let her go so abruptly that she wondered if he felt the same fierce heat. "So don't try this in a more private place. You can't expect superhuman restraint every time."

  She could have laughed for joy that he was so vulnerable to her. She moved a step away but couldn't resist murmuring, "I miss you so."

  He turned to rub the blazed nose of a chestnut mare close by. "Ah, and I remember some fine riding," he said, as if to the horse. "If this were a right and proper world, we'd be free to ride again."

  Felicity picked up his meaning. "But as it is, you may have to see her go to another man."

  His hand tightened on the horse's mane. "She'll never go to a man not worthy of her."

  "You're a romantic fool."

  "I'm Irish." Seemingly to the horse, he added, "You're worthy of the best, my silken beauty, and I'll make sure you have it. And I'll ride you again, my word on it. A fine wild ride through sunlight and soft rain into fire..."

  "She's a miracle horse, indeed, if you can ride her into fire!" But Felicity couldn't help her voice wavering with a mixture of laughter and raw need. She moved closer and put her hand over his on the horse's neck. "I admit it's been all too long since I rode." She rubbed against his wonderful hand. "Especially as God intended. With the power of the animal between my legs."

  A tinge of red crept up his face, and his breathing changed.

  "Oh, God, we're mad," she said, stepping away. "Enough of this."

  He laughed and moved on. "Somehow I think I'll never have enough of that kind of riding. In fact, a little would be a blessed relief."

  They progressed in cautious silence to the end of the boxes, by which time Felicity's heart-rate had steadied.r />
  "Do you want to inspect the stores and tack rooms?" he asked, once more the weary guardian.

  Felicity swept out into the open air. "Oh, I'm sure they're as fine as English money can make them." When he came up beside her, she said, "I'm hating this."

  "I'm not too comfortable with it myself." She understood him and smothered a laugh. She suffered from a similar ache, and other pains more deep and meaningful.

  She needed to talk to him, really talk, but the stable yard was no more private than the stalls had been and soon would be full of Meltonians. She looked around, then led the way out of the carriage gates and over to a wooden fence around the pasture where some horses grazed.

  He followed, but said, "Remember to appear resentful."

  "That's not hard, for I resent life at the moment. What did I do to deserve this?"

  "Had sex with Dunsmore," he said flatly.

  She stared at him, and the resentment was real. "I was fifteen!"

  His eyes were cool as they met hers. "There are boys on fighting ships at fifteen, and others in all kinds of trades. Girls of that age work like adults, too. The truth is, you were as willful then as you are now. If you'd behaved as you should, this would never have happened."

  "So it's all my fault, is it?" Angry disbelief was rising in her like hot steam.

  "I'm merely pointing out that you did something. You weren't dragged off and raped. Remember my mother speaking of the Rogues springing Lord Whitmore's traps? That was willfulness, too. Oh, we claim we were fighting the cruelty of it, but the truth is, it was an adventure, a way to show we were able to trick those in charge of us. We thought the thrill worth any risk. Hell, there wouldn't have been a thrill without the risk."

  "That is not the same at all!"

  He met her rage calmly. "There are similarities. What if the gamekeeper had caught us and shot at us? What if I or one of the others had been crippled for life? We would all today be living with the consequences, and we couldn't say we'd done nothing to bring about the problems. That's too easy a way out."

  "But..."

  He overrode her. "But, in your case, you were inveigled and tricked. True enough. That's why I want to shoot Dunsmore on sight."

  She felt as disoriented as if he'd flipped her onto her head. "Never!"

  "Most of our plan will work just as well with him dead."

  "No, it won't. We have no hold over Michael Craig, and with Rupert dead he'll have the legal power."

  That stopped him. "Damn, that's true."

  Felicity stopped to take a deep breath and find her balance. "So, was that lecture about responsibility just to stage a quarrel for any observer?"

  "No."

  "You meant it? How can you hold me to blame? How can you?"

  "How can you think yourself blameless? If you'd stayed at home stitching samplers and improving your handwriting, Dunsmore would never have come within sniffing distance of you."

  "And if you'd stayed home, you'd have died of boredom!"

  "I was at school. My handwriting is excellent, and I can read both Latin and Greek. I assure you I didn't have time for leisurely trysts in the countryside."

  "You found time to spring traps, didn't you?" She beat a fist on the sturdy fence. "You were a boy and free to go where you pleased. If a local matron had decided to seduce you, she'd have had no trouble. Faith, but that's probably where you had your first experience of a woman!"

  "It was not. But if that had been the way of it, I'd have come to no harm unless she had the pox. That's the difference between boys and girls. You should have known that. I think you did know that."

  "I didn't. No one ever told me."

  "Did you need telling? Was no lass in the area ever caught unmarried with her apron strings too tight?"

  Felicity stepped back. "Why are you attacking me like this?"

  "Because all this seething rage is not acting. You have to stop blaming the world and lashing out. Sure and your life hasn't always been fair, anymore than it would have been fair if I'd been shot by Lord Whitmore's gamekeeper and never ridden a horse again. But you did play a part in creating your own predicament, just as I would have done. You have to put it behind you."

  "And stay at home sewing samplers?"

  He smiled slightly. "If you'd been properly raised, you'd be past the sampler stage."

  Felicity hissed with annoyance. "What you mean, Miles Cavanagh, is that you find me altogether too much trouble and want me to become the sort of ninny who does just as she's told. When fish leap from the Shannon into the fishermen's nets!"

  With that, Felicity swung around and marched back to the house. He didn't follow, but that could have been because the first of the hunting fraternity had arrived to inspect, and possibly to buy.

  * * *

  Felicity swept into the house, still stinging from that reprimand, and almost collided with Beth, who was carrying a large bowl of oranges.

  "Is something wrong?" Beth asked.

  "Just a certain black-hearted guardian, that's all." Felicity would have pushed by, but Beth thrust the bowl into her hands.

  "Take this to the dining room, dear. I'll be there in a moment with the nuts."

  Felicity was tempted to drop the burden to shatter on the floor, but that would just prove she was a thoughtless, headstrong rebel, so she obediently marched off with it.

  The dining room was nearly ready for the evening, with pleasing arrangements of foods on all surfaces. Felicity thumped the bowl down in a space, thumped it down rather harder than she'd intended, so some oranges bounced out and onto the floor.

  As she scrambled after them, she heard Beth enter the room.

  Beth placed a large bowl of nuts on the table and captured the farthest escapee. "Now," she said, putting the orange back in the bowl, "tell me what the dreadful man has done to you now."

  "You're as bad as he is! I don't suppose you would have let yourself be seduced at fifteen, would you, no matter how lonely you were? And even if you were the type to be seduced—wild and wanton defines it, I'm sure—you would never have had the opportunity because you stayed where you were supposed to be, sewing samplers!"

  "I was under such handicaps," Beth replied mildly. "I was raised in a girl's school."

  "Raised? "

  "Yes. I don't think I went anywhere without a companion until after my marriage."

  "Nowhere?" Felicity was almost speechless. She knew her upbringing had been unconventional, but she had not imagined restrictions such as this. No wonder Miles was surprised she'd had the chance to be led astray. "Is that normal?"

  "It isn't so strange among the upper classes, and the school was in a town, where one must be more careful. In the country, young ladies have more freedom, but I gather you had the freedom of the whole county."

  Felicity pounced. "Freedom! That's the word. And why should we not all be free?"

  "Perhaps because freedom is dangerous to those unprepared for it. Do we let young children go just where they wish?"

  "I was not a child."

  "I thought you were. Was not that the point? And a neglected child, at that. Your freedom would have presented no hazard if you'd not felt that the attention of a man, any man, was of value. And, of course, if you had been well informed about the dance between the sexes, and the way it's played."

  Felicity was feeling bludgeoned. "Are you saying that women shouldn't be free? It seemed to me at times that Mary Wollstonecraft was saying women are feeble creatures and, like children, must be protected for their own good. I find that a disgusting sentiment."

  Beth's eyes lit. "Let's have tea as we discuss it. I think," she said, as she led the way to the library, "Mrs. Wollstonecraft meant that many women, as they are now, are not ready for freedom since their minds are uneducated and their bodies not strong. Also, they have not been trained to accept the responsibilities that go with rights."

  "And whose fault is any of that?" Felicity demanded, throwing herself into the solid library chair that had briefly
been her prison.

  "Their parents'. Often mothers just as much as fathers. Mothers have a terrible tendency to encourage their daughters' vanity. Do you remember your parents?" Beth rang the bell, and by the time the footman came to take the request for tea, Felicity was sharing her faint memories of her parents.

  Beth listened, then said, "It sounds as if your parents would have raised you in a more conventional way."

  "Probably."

  "Would you have preferred it?" Beth took a seat close by.

  Felicity thought of resisting this session, which was clearly intended to be educational. She wasn't sure any of these people had the right to educate her.

  But then she saw the foolishness of that. Education is never without worth, and since the shadowy time before her parents' death she'd lacked a sensible person to talk to at length. Recently, there had been Miles, but their situation was tangled with too many other threads for it to be rational.

  Beth, perhaps Beth she could trust.

  "I would have liked to have had a more normal family life," she said, untying her bonnet and dropping it to the floor. "And I suppose it might have been better to have been properly educated by someone who made me learn the things I didn't want to learn." Then she grinned. "But it was a fine life for all of that, free to ride the countryside on some of the best horseflesh God ever created."

  "You had more freedom than most boys, you know, since you weren't bothered by tutors and schools. Perhaps more freedom than is wise. You could have encountered any number of hazards."

  "My grandfather taught me to shoot." But then Felicity remembered Miles lecturing her on the Irish reality. "You're right, though. The trouble with my family is that they don't like to face unpleasant facts, so they ignore them. I believed people were essentially good and kind and would not hurt me. Most are, you know."

  "Yes, but it's the few who aren't who present the problem."