by Deb Marlowe
This was nothing like their first kiss. Her first kiss. That had been all tentative exploration and giddy excitement. This was heat and anger and denial and want all wrapped up in the taste of his lips and the insistent stroke of his tongue.
This was no boy’s kiss, nor green girl’s response. Stephen loomed above and all about her. He felt bigger, darker and more demanding—and she thrilled to it. She opened wider to take him in, revelled in the abandon with which he ravished her mouth.
From behind them came a loud, rasping snore.
It shattered the spell. They stilled. Stephen pulled back, staring at her with bewilderment and accusation in his eyes.
She raised her chin. ‘If I didn’t like you so well, Stephen, I would slap you a cracking good blow for that.’
‘Perhaps now you will understand why you should not go off alone with strange men.’ He lacked the conviction with which he’d been arguing before.
She forced a laugh. ‘You may have been the first strange man to have kissed me, but you’re not the only one. And I doubt you’ll be the last.’
His fists clenched at his sides. ‘Made a habit of it, have you?’
She raised a shoulder. ‘A girl does what she must. But I’d hoped that your help would mean less of this sort of … research.’
He gaped at her.
‘I don’t mean to disparage your skills, of course. You are a lovely kisser. But I already knew that, didn’t I? Now, we have a horse to find. And a husband. Let’s get on with it, shall we?’
With a swish of her skirts, Mae turned and left the parlour.
Chapter Nine
‘The world’s gone upside down.’ Lord Toswick stared down into his mug of coffee like he was looking for the way to set things right again.
‘You have no idea,’ Stephen agreed with him. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he’d kissed Mae Halford. Not a friendly kiss, either. He’d practically devoured her. He’d tossed and turned all night long and rose from bed still hungry for her. All of that was bad. But the worse part, the most disturbing and painful truth, was that it hadn’t been at her instigation. This time it had been his doing.
He pushed the thought away. Almost as bad was the memory of her indifference to his kiss. A blow to his pride, to be sure, but a good thing. He repeated that to himself once more. That kiss had been a mistake. One he couldn’t allow to happen again. He was going to apologise—profusely—and move on. He was damned lucky Mae didn’t want him—had she been another sort of woman she might have had his head in a noose and tugged him to the altar already. But she had her goals and they in no way coincided with his.
And it was time he began to concentrate harder on his. What if her father had found them? He would have been ruined. The people at Fincote would have had nothing again. Nothing but hunger and despair. Again. Such a thing would kill him. He didn’t think he could handle another burden of guilt like the last one.
He looked about him, at the men settled comfortably in this thoroughly masculine environ. They all sat at peace with their papers or grouped together, debating tomorrow’s racing with muted excitement. He was here, in the Jockey Club Coffee Rooms. He should be savouring this moment.
‘This morning at the breakfast table, my wife asked me what I looked for in a jockey.’ Toswick frowned at Stephen. ‘When I answered, she took out paper and pencil and began to take notes.’
‘That is odd.’ No wonder Toswick had been in a strange mood. The earl had met him on the stairs this morning and invited Stephen to the Coffee Rooms as his guest. He had eagerly accepted, but now he began to wish he hadn’t. The rooms were a shrine to horses, dogs and manly pursuits, but he felt like a fraud. He wanted to be here on his own terms, recognised for his own merit.
‘And that’s not all. I think Ryeton’s run a little mad, what with Pratchett gone and his wife just arrived.’ By Toswick’s tone, Stephen was given to understand that the two events carried the same disastrous weight. ‘He even questioned me—as if he thought I might have known something about Pratchett’s disappearance!’
‘His search doesn’t go well, I presume?’ Stephen had to disguise his surge of pleasure and relief.
‘Not at all.’ Toswick cast a careful glance about. ‘But after listening to all and sundry—my money’s on Cray. As the culprit, I mean.’
Stephen took the statement literally—he knew there was voluminous betting taking place, on just who the horse-napper would turn out to be. ‘Cray?’ he asked. ‘Chester Cray, the leg?’
‘Aye—that’s the one.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There’s bad blood already between him and Ryeton, you know. Ryeton suspected he might have been the one to poison the feed at his home stables.’
‘Is Cray even in Newmarket?’
‘Reputed to be, though he must be laying low. I haven’t caught a glimpse of him myself.’ Toswick looked about once more. ‘I’d appreciate you keeping this to yourself. Cray’s not a character I’d want to cross.’
‘Of course.’ Stephen’s spirits lifted a little, while his heart began to beat a more hopeful rhythm. It didn’t make good business sense for a leg to steal a favourite horse, but if Ryeton had a contentious history with the man, the matter might have become personal.
‘I say …’ Toswick’s amused tone woke him from his reverie ‘… what have you done to Halford?’
‘Halford?’ Stephen straightened in his chair.
‘Yes. He just passed us by on his way out—and the look he cast your way was distinctly … odd.’
‘Perhaps it was only that he didn’t expect to see me here.’ Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d lost control with his daughter last night. That he’d let her daunting confidence and the challenge in her eye goad him into silencing her with his kiss. A kiss so devastating that his nether regions felt the echo of it even now.
‘Have you spoken to him about his filly?’
‘I did.’ He’d mentioned Toswick’s idea to Mae’s father last night while she’d been flaunting her jewel-adorned cleavage at the bleary-eyed Landry. ‘He appeared amenable to the idea.’ Stephen had also taken the opportunity to mention the promise he saw in Ornithopter.
‘Splendid,’ said Toswick with satisfaction. ‘The fillies go off tomorrow. If both animals perform well, there will be that much more interest in seeing them matched against each other.’ He set down his coffee and checked his pocket watch. ‘Halford is likely returning for the garden party.’ He groaned. ‘I don’t suppose my wife would look favourably upon either of us if we missed it.’
‘I don’t suppose she would.’ Mae would be there. Lord, he’d be better off taking her advice and running the other way.
He stood. ‘Shall we go?’
Toswick sighed. ‘I’ll have to show my face, at least. But then I’m off to watch Butterfly’s time trial.’ The earl stood as well. ‘I wonder if my wife will be inviting a jockey as her guest?’
Lady Toswick had invited a jockey to the garden party, as her guest. All of the ladies had been made privy to the scheme. Her orders, given at the end of her tea and spread across town yesterday, had been for everyone to ask questions of their men and come ready to share what they’d learned.
Now women were milling about the lawn in terrible chaos, ignoring the lovely setting, the refreshments and the men. Some clustered about, questioning the jockey, a Mr Kincaid, late of Dublin. Others stood about or flitted from one group to another. Bonnets nodded and parasols pointed as the ladies of Newmarket discussed sires and dams, and furiously argued favourites and odds.
At first the pandemonium barely registered with Mae—likely because it so perfectly echoed her own inner turmoil. She, usually so clear-headed and focused, found herself floundering. It was uncomfortable, intolerable—and all Stephen Manning’s fault.
He’d kissed her! She didn’t understand it. She’d done just as she’d ought. She’d followed each carefully planned step, adhered to every painfully plotted stratagem, even down to squelchin
g the heat, the thousands of tiny explosions of desire that had beset her as they argued.
And yet the results had been mixed at best. Yes, she’d made a favourable impression on Lord Banks, and she’d eliminated Lord Landry both as a potential husband and as the person responsible for Pratchett’s disappearance, but she’d also somehow goaded Stephen into kissing her.
Worse, she’d succumbed completely. Forgotten every design and objective and allowed herself to be overpowered by the glorious heat, strength and taste of him, and by her own heady desire for more.
There would be no more, she told herself sternly. One kiss had left her lost; her straight and narrow path degenerated into a swampy marsh of too many choices, too many voices.
They clamoured in her head as she looked about at the confused picture the ladies made. All they wanted was an occupation, a bit of attention. Well, they had it. The men stood about, looking amused. Or annoyed. Mr Fatch in particular was looking sour, standing aside in deep consultation with Miss Metheny.
Mae resisted the almost violent urge to take the ladies in hand. It was what she had intended to do when she arrived in England: behave prettily, as her father wished, blend in and present her best face to rigid English society. But Stephen Manning was watching, his head close to Lord Toswick’s, as they and all the gentlemen tried to work out what had gotten into the women. And suddenly it was Matthew Grange’s voice echoing in her head, and it spoke of the misery that came with hiding one’s true character.
She decided to listen. Breathing deeply, she stepped into the midst of the hubbub and clapped her hands until the chattering ceased. It was but a matter of minutes before she had the ladies gathered into a cohesive group. She saw that everyone had refreshments and invited Mr Kincaid to speak on the qualities he looked for in a successful racehorse. A word whispered into the ear of their hostess and a chair was brought from the house. Another whisper—and a little flirtation—and Mr Matthew Grange took the chair once Mr Kincaid was through. He talked for a while about how the legs went about taking bets and ‘making their books’.
The women listened, asked intelligent questions and began to be as excited about the actual sport as they had been about the idea of gaining the attention of their men. Even Mae’s mother looked to be caught up in the fun. The male guests were still flummoxed at their behaviour, but at least the ladies were presenting a more impressive image.
As Mr Grange finished, the group began to break up. Their hostess called them together for a last moment. ‘The gentlemen are puzzled, ladies. Some are intrigued and a few are a little put out. I’d say we’ve had a successful start to our strategy, but for now let us go forth and mingle as if all of this was perfectly ordinary.’
She shooed them off. Mae glanced towards Stephen. He was decidedly not looking at her. She scanned the crowd until she located Lord Banks. With a toss of her head, she made a beeline for the baron, joined his group and took his arm.
‘I’m afraid I missed the chance to explore the forest walk with the ladies yesterday,’ she told him. ‘Would you care to join me as I make up for the lack today?’
He readily agreed and it was with a grim smile of satisfaction that she felt the stealthy weight of Stephen’s gaze, as he pointedly did not watch her set off.
The path they took was longer than the one she and Stephen had taken to the little meadow, and enhanced in spots with cleverly planted groves of elm and sycamore. At one point it became clear that the trail had been designed to showcase a pretty little stream lined with willows.
They had not been walking very long before Lord Banks cleared his throat. ‘That was a masterful display back there, Miss Halford.’
She raised her chin. ‘Thank you. The ladies were only in want of a little management.’
He nodded. ‘I could use someone with an orderly mind like yours, as I plan my stable renovations. It will be a large undertaking, especially when combined with the start of my stud.’
A little hitch of pleasure had her catching her breath. Perhaps Mr Grange had been right! Still, Josette’s warnings rang in her ears. Eyeing the baron carefully, Mae decided to give him a taste of the real Mae Halford.
She crossed over to the bank of the little stream, where several individual stone seats had been placed. They both remained standing, though. ‘I would be happy to help in any way I could. I have a good deal of experience in helping to manage renovation projects. My father and I have also visited many of the finest breeders on our travels.’
Lord Banks’s pleasant expression grew more shuttered. ‘How kind you are.’
Watching him closely, she continued. ‘Your enthusiasm is quite catching. I confess, though, a question did occur to me, listening to your plans yesterday.’
‘Oh? What question was that?’ He sounded only curious, which Mae took as a good sign.
‘You mentioned that the estate is small. Most breeding enterprises do require a good deal of acreage.’
‘Ah, yes, you are right about that. Actually, I’m hoping to acquire a nice bit of land marching our eastern side.’
Mae didn’t try to hide her surprise. ‘How lovely that a small estate provides enough of a profit to do so.’
Now the baron began to look a little uncomfortable. ‘The estate does well enough to support itself.’
‘But not well enough to support your dreams.’ She nodded her understanding. ‘Then I hope you have a plan to raise the money. It’s unlikely that you would get enough in stud fees, for several years at least, to cover such an investment.’
He looked her over with an odd smile. ‘I do indeed have another plan.’
She waited, but he didn’t continue, only watched her with amusement in his eyes. And finally, realisation dawned. ‘Oh!’
She supposed she should be flattered, but instead the laughter and quiet confidence in his expression set her back up. At least he was honest. She could do no less, really, than return the favour. What had Josette called her? A feast of strong flavors? She smiled, and hoped he was hungry.
‘Quite sensible of you,’ she said with a nod. ‘I do have a substantial dowry—though clearly not enough to purchase land, update your stables and fund the beginning of a business.’ She cocked her head at him. ‘I feel I should warn you, though, that my father and I have already agreed that the bulk of my money will remain under my own control after my marriage.’
He did look startled. ‘Why would your father agree to such a thing?’
‘Because he knows me,’ she answered simply. ‘I was raised at his knee, you know. Interest and investment and insurance were the regular topics of dinner conversation in our household.’
He blinked. ‘How unusual.’
‘How fortunate,’ she corrected. ‘I assure you, I am perfectly familiar with and capable of performing all the duties of a lady—it’s just that I am capable of much more, as well.’
Clearly he did not know what to say.
She smiled. ‘Many girls get a new gown for their sixteenth birthday. My father gave me two weeks to sort out the dreadfully mismanaged books of a bankrupt warehouse that he had just purchased.’ She grinned. ‘I had the best time of my life.’
‘I see.’ The words came out faintly.
‘So perhaps I would invest in your stud, if your bloodlines and your projected profits warranted it.’
Lord Banks heaved a deep sigh. With a rueful smile he turned to her and took her hand. He bent over to kiss it. With detachment, Mae realised that there was none of the pulse-pounding excitement in the air that had been present when Stephen had done the same thing, just yesterday afternoon.
‘I regret that I shall have to change my plans, Miss Halford.’ He gently released her hand. ‘You are lovely, and clearly a woman of many talents. It’s just that I am not prepared to take on such a … challenge in a wife.’
Mae wondered that she did not feel sadness, or at least a bit of regret. Instead she was left only with a sense of relief.
‘I am sorry,’ he said.
<
br /> ‘Don’t be,’ she assured him. ‘I need a man who is up to a challenge.’ She smiled to ease the sting of her words. ‘Why don’t you head back to the party? I will follow along in a moment.’ She turned towards the stream. ‘Good day, Lord Banks.’
‘Goodbye, Miss Halford. And good luck.’
Chapter Ten
The world had indeed turned upside down. Toswick had no idea how true he’d spoken this morning. And it was all thanks to Mae Halford. Mae Halford who had tossed them all arse over teakettle.
It was hard to tell just what the ladies of Newmarket society were up to this morning, but easy to see that Mae was in the thick of it. Stephen had been amazed at how she’d tamed the crowd of cackling women. In a matter of minutes, right in the middle of a social event, she’d organised an impromptu but thorough lesson on the subject of racing.
All about him, men had watched in awe. Some had looked disapproving, some amused. A few had been so thoroughly absorbed that Stephen was sure they were learning something. But they’d all been impressed with the swift transformation Mae had effected.
And just look at what she’d done to him. He’d been getting ready to take his leave, but he’d seen her go off—alone—with Banks and his gut had started to churn. Soon after he’d seen Banks come back—alone—and his feet had started to move.
Upside down. He’d spent a lifetime running from Mae Halford; now, for the second time in twelve hours, he found himself chasing after her.
He found her sitting on a seat next to a tiny stream. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, then turned back to contemplating the water with a sigh.
‘Have you come to upset me, too?’
She was all covered up today, in a soft green walking dress under a darker green spencer. Part of him appreciated the effort. The other part knew that the tightly fitted garment was a wasted effort. The feel of her yielding curves lived still in the palms of his hands.
But as he drew closer, he slowed. She looked lost, sitting there. Smaller, somehow. Not like Mae at all.