As he’d predicted, Ashleigh blushed scarlet and then promptly stuck her tongue out at him, causing both he and Nicholas to laugh aloud.
“I think that was our cue to change the subject,” Nicholas said, grinning at his wife.
“Fine,” Ashleigh said with an exaggerated huff, rolling her eyes as Alex had done just moments ago. “When are your mother and sisters due to return from their holiday?”
Alex smiled smugly, pleased to have steered the conversation in a less troublesome direction. “The last letter I received indicated that they were enjoying themselves immensely and would be staying abroad for the next several weeks.”
“Enjoying themselves immensely,” Nick chortled. “Translation, they’re spending a goodly amount of the Chesterfield fortune and loving each and every minute of it.”
“I believe you’ve hit the nail on the head, old man,” Alex agreed, though his tone was benevolent. He wasn’t worried, as fortunately he had far more money than his mother and sisters could ever hope to spend in their lifetime, or in a dozen lifetimes for that matter.
“If I know your sisters, they will have visited every fashion house in Europe before their return,” Ashleigh remarked laughingly.
Alex snorted. “The girls are bound and determined to shine during their first Season, and I’ve been informed that possessing the most fashionable wardrobe money can buy is of the utmost importance.” Even though they had more than a year to wait until their official debut, they were already planning for the eagerly-anticipated event.
“Well, it may seem a bit frivolous,” Ashleigh said thoughtfully, “but considering all of the charitable contributions your family has made to society over the years, not to mention the good works that you, your mother and sisters continue to do, I should think that you all can countenance the extravagance without feeling too much guilt.”
“Yes, as long as we direct our attention to what truly matters, I suppose the occasional overindulgence can be overlooked,” he admitted. Besides, even though he dreaded the social obligations that his sisters’ first Season would entail, he loved them both dearly, and for their sake he would do whatever he had to do to make them happy.
While they journeyed the remaining distance to the picnic site, their conversation turned to the construction of the new hospital wing at Westminster Hospital that both the Warrene and Leighton families had a hand in funding. It was an enormous financial undertaking, but one that would be a great benefit to the people of London.
As the group neared the lake and the grassy bank upon which they were to have their luncheon, Brendon and the duke began a rather intense debate regarding the country’s newest labor laws. With two very differing opinions on one regulation in particular, their conversation had been growing more and more heated by the moment. Seeking to lighten the mood, Tiffany decided to intervene. “Oh look. The picnic site is just ahead, gentlemen,” she called out.
Their discussion came to an abrupt halt as both men immediately turned to face her. “Shall we see who can get there first?” she challenged with an impudent grin.
For one brief moment the three of them eyed each other in silent deliberation, and in the next they were off. Brendon took the early lead with Tiffany and the duke trailing just a short distance behind. Their faces reflecting a lighthearted merriment, they quickly overtook Nicholas, Ashleigh and the Earl of Chesterfield, who all turned in surprise as the trio passed by, then watched in amusement as they raced pell-mell across the fragrant meadow.
Despite her mount being inferior to both men’s impressive stallions, Tiffany surged ahead as they neared the bank and ultimately emerged victorious. She good-naturedly accused them of throwing the race and wasn’t the least bit convinced when they adamantly denied letting her win.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Tiffany said, smiling brightly as the duke assisted her from her mount, handing her mare’s reins to one of the grooms who’d been sent ahead to look after the horses while they lunched. She was still exhilarated from their impromptu race and her mood was jubilant as her booted feet touched the ground.
From atop his horse, Alex watched as Ravenfield lifted Tiffany from her saddle, clenching his jaw as the duke’s hands lingered just a moment too long upon her slender waist. Tiffany however, didn’t appear to mind, he noted with a twinge of irritation. “That was quite a race,” he remarked, pulling his mount to a halt a few feet from where the pair now stood.
Tiffany glanced up, meeting his gaze, her smile wavering just a bit as their eyes met.
“Indeed it was,” Nicholas seconded, as he and Ashleigh pulled up beside him.
“I shall have to award you a ribbon once we return to the house,” Ashleigh said merrily, drawing Tiffany’s attention.
“What about me?” Brendon chimed in as he dismounted. “Shall I be awarded a ribbon as well? I did come in a close second after all.” Tossing his reins to the waiting groom, he moved to stand at Tiffany’s other side.
“Sorry Brendon, but there are no prizes awarded for second place,” Nicholas teased.
Damned right there aren’t, Alex thought, eyeing both Brendon and the duke through narrowed eyes. It was his lips that had claimed Tiffany’s the night before, his arms that had held her lush, feminine curves; not theirs he longed to inform the two men flanking her. His reaction and the pure intensity of emotion he felt at that moment caught him off guard. Was it jealousy? Possessiveness? He wasn’t accustomed to feeling either and it left him feeling slightly off kilter.
He didn’t have time to dwell upon the troubling circumstance however, as the other riders and the slower-moving carriages had just begun to arrive.
As they left the horses to the care of the grooms and walked as a group toward the picnic site, Tiffany could see that several colorful blankets had been laid atop the grass, each sporting a fully-laden wicker basket and a vast collection of serving ware, while a handful of servants stood patiently waiting to attend the party guests. Nearing one of the open baskets, she eyed the tempting fare appreciatively. Having missed breakfast, she was feeling rather hungry.
“Would you care to share a blanket, Lady Tiffany?” The Duke of Ravenfield asked politely.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” She would have preferred to sit with Alex, but unfortunately he hadn’t offered.
Stopping next to a blue and green patterned blanket, the duke motioned with his hand. “Will this do?”
“Of course,” Tiffany replied. Dropping onto her knees, she adjusted her riding skirt around her legs as the duke sat down across from her.
A young serving girl approached them at once, carrying an open bottle of wine. She and the duke immediately reached for their glasses, holding them aloft.
“Have you room for one more?”
Tiffany fought to suppress her amusement as Brendon plopped down next to her without waiting for a reply, causing the duke to mutter something she couldn’t quite make out under his breath.
“By all means, join us,” he stated audibly, though both his tone and expression were decidedly unwelcoming.
Grabbing a wine glass, Brendon merely grinned in response. “Thank you, Suzette,” he said, winking as the girl bent forward to fill his glass.
“You’re welcome, my lord,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes prettily.
As she moved on, reluctantly it seemed, to the next blanket Tiffany regarded Brendon knowingly over the top of her glass.
“What?” he asked innocently, catching her eye.
Tiffany rolled her eyes skyward and stifled a giggle. Brendon Leighton was, and likely always would be, an incorrigible rogue. However, she had absolutely no doubt that someone would eventually capture his heart, and when she did, she would be one very fortunate woman indeed.
Noting the envious gazes of two of the young women to whom she’d been introduced the night before, Tiffany felt a tad guilty as she watched them walking toward one of the unoccupied blankets. It really wasn’t fair of her to monopolize two of the ton’s most eli
gible bachelors, she supposed, when in fact she had eyes for only one man. “Miss Banning, Lady Cranbrooke, would you care to join us?” she called out.
The pair immediately halted in their tracks, their expressions noticeably brightening.
Both Brendon and the duke leapt to their feet at once. “Yes, ladies, do join us,” Brendon said with a charming smile.
“By all means, we’ve more than enough room,” the duke affirmed gallantly.
Covertly watching as Tiffany had settled herself comfortably between Brendon and Ravenfield moments earlier, Alex had failed to note the woman approaching from behind until it was too late.
“Come and sit with me,” Lucinda murmured in a husky voice, sidling up next to him and grasping his forearm.
Alex turned, doing his best to keep his annoyance from showing on his face. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your husband?” he asked, quirking his left brow.
Lucinda merely laughed and tucked her arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the sea of colorful blankets. “Winston is back at the house,” she replied gaily. “As luck would have it, he wasn’t in the mood for a picnic.”
Glancing about, Alex noted the baron’s absence, as well as the fact that the majority of the Leighton’s older guests appeared to have remained behind, including Nick and Brendon’s grandmother, Ashleigh’s grandfather and Tiffany’s father. Stifling a groan, he reluctantly moved forward as Lucinda pulled him in the direction of an empty blanket. But as luck would have it, he managed to catch Nick’s eye just as he and Ashleigh were situating themselves upon one of the blankets. Fortunately, his friend knew him well and easily read his expression.
“Alex, Baroness Langdon, please join us,” he called out, extending his hand in a welcoming gesture.
Alex gave Lucinda no time to reply. “We’d love to, thank you.”
As she and the others dined on roasted pheasant, thick wheels of goat cheese, fragrant loaves of freshly baked bread and a wide assortment of other scrumptious tidbits, Tiffany couldn’t keep her eyes from straying time and again to where Alex sat next to Baroness Langdon. Was it true, she wondered yet again? Were he and the baroness lovers? Though it was hardly any of her business, she could scarcely contain the flashes of jealousy that sparked within her each and every time she happened to glance upon them.
“Oh, Your Grace, surely you must be joking,” Lady Cranbrooke declared.
“I kid you not,” the duke replied earnestly.
“It’s true,” Brendon asserted with a chuckle. “I was there as well. Funniest thing I ever saw.”
Tiffany’s eyes snapped back to the four people sitting around her. Brendon and the duke were grinning madly and Miss Banning and Lady Cranbrooke had their hands to their mouths to stifle their giggles. Oh dear. Apparently she had missed something, something amusing it seemed. She immediately pasted a phony smile upon her lips and did her best to act as if she knew what it was that they were all laughing about. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice that she hadn’t a clue. However, for the remainder of the meal she made a marked attempt to keep her attention from wavering, succeeding for the most part.
“With all of the wonderful fare that’s been coming from your kitchens these past two days, I fear that Winston and I will have each gained a stone by the time we return to Langdon,” Lucinda laughed good-humoredly as she set aside her now empty plate.
“If only that were true, our chef would be most pleased to hear it,” Ashleigh replied graciously, eyeing the baroness’ slender frame.
“Indeed,” Nicholas remarked, patting his midsection contentedly. “I do not think that he will be satisfied until all of the Leightons are as big around the middle as he is.”
Ashleigh grinned. “Yes, Monsieur Rousseau is continually coming up with tantalizing new dishes to tempt us with.”
“You’d best be careful lest someone try and lure your new culinary genius away from you,” Alex taunted, waggling his eyebrows wickedly as he set aside his own plate.
“Do not even think to try it, old man,” Nick retorted with mock severity. “Though I have no intention of allowing Monsieur Rousseau to substantially increase the size of my waistband, I am nonetheless content to let him try.”
Alex merely grinned as he popped a second sugared apricot into his mouth.
They continued their conversation for several more minutes, until Lucinda eventually rose up onto her knees and cast Alex a meaningful glance.
“After sitting so long, I think I had best stretch my legs for a bit,” she said. “Will you join me for a walk, my lord?”
Though he wanted to decline, he could hardly refuse without seeming an ill-mannered boor. “Of course,” he said graciously. Standing up, he offered Lucinda his hand.
Rising to her feet, Tiffany watched from the corner of her eye as Alex and the baroness left their blanket and meandered down toward the lake, arm in arm.
“Shall we choose partners?” Miss Banning asked.
Having finished eating, Brendon had suggested that they compete in a game of pall-mall, noting the iron arches that had been set up just a short distance away.
Although she enjoyed the game and surmised that vigorously whacking a ball with a wooden mallet might be just what she needed to help ease her current frustration, she simply wasn’t in the mood. “You all go ahead,” she said. “I believe I shall sit this one out.”
Brendon tilted his head to the side and regarded her speculatively. “You aren’t afraid that I’ll beat you again, are you?” he teased.
Tiffany couldn’t help but grin. “You know very well that Ashleigh and I trounced you and your brother quite soundly that last time we played,” Tiffany replied, shaking her head at the blatant falsehood.
“Did you?” His brow wrinkled in apparent confusion. “Are you certain it wasn’t the other way around?” he queried, though his eyes held a teasing glint.
Tiffany nodded. “Quite certain. Now go on without me,” she said good-naturedly, shooing the foursome away with her hands. “Perhaps I will join you in a while.”
Though both Brendon and the duke looked somewhat disappointed, Miss Banning and Lady Cranbrooke looked very much the opposite and were quick to lead the men away.
Tiffany wasn’t alone for long however, for within moments of the others departure, Ashleigh was at her side. “I see that you’ve made yet another conquest,” she declared with a smug smile, nodding toward the Duke of Ravenfield. “I told you that the men would be falling all over themselves for you, once you entered Society.”
“I would hardly describe His Grace as falling all over himself,” Tiffany replied, shaking her head at such an absurdity.
“Yes, well perhaps the duke is a bit too sophisticated as to fall all over himself,” Ashleigh conceded with a grin. “But I do believe that he is most definitely smitten.” She glanced to where Ravenfield stood, hefting a wooden mallet in his hand as he prepared to take his first shot. “And just think, if you married him, then you and I could be Your Graced to death together.”
Tiffany couldn’t help smiling. She knew that Ashleigh was still adjusting to being a duchess and often struggled with the deference people gave to her simply because of her elevated title. “Well, he is very handsome and ever so charming, but-”
“But he’s not the Earl of Chesterfield,” Ashleigh finished the statement for her.
“Oh Ashleigh, I simply cannot help it.” Stealing a glance in the earl’s direction, Tiffany dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m not sure what it is, but there’s just something about him. It’s as if…,” she trailed off, sighing softly. “Honestly, I don’t think I can explain it, not even to myself.”
Casting a glance toward her husband, Ashleigh smiled. It was a soft, loving smile that lit up her entire face. “You don’t have to explain,” she said understandingly. “I know exactly how you feel.” After a moment, she returned her gaze back to Tiffany and her features became more solemn. “But as much as I adore Alex, I just… I just don’t want to see yo
u get hurt.”
“I know.” Tiffany couldn’t have asked for a better friend than Ashleigh Leighton. Casting her eyes downward, she asked the question that had been plaguing her since she’d overheard the Addler sisters talking. “Do you think he and the baroness are lovers?”
Ashleigh turned her attention to Alex and the baroness, watching for a moment as they walked closer to the water’s edge. She hesitated a moment before answering. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
They were both silent for a moment, each lost to their own thoughts, until finally Tiffany broke the silence. “Do you think it’s true what they say? That reformed rakes make for the best of husbands?”
Turning her gaze once again to her husband, Ashleigh’s expression softened at once.
“I shall take that as a yes,” Tiffany chuckled.
Grasping Tiffany’s hand, Ashleigh gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I was thinking of going for a ride around the lake,” Tiffany said, glancing to where the horses were staked just a short distance away. Though she didn’t voice it aloud, she longed to distance herself from the sight of Alex and Lucinda Langdon. “I would ask you to join me,” she began, keeping her tone intentionally light, “but as hostess, I fear your presence would be missed.”
Ashleigh heaved an exaggerated, wistful sigh. “Unfortunately, I think you are correct.”
A short while later, as Ashleigh fulfilled her duties as the group’s hostess, Tiffany once again mounted the gentle mare she’d ridden earlier and then guided her to the wooded area to the east. She knew the area fairly well, for she and Ashleigh had ridden several times through the surrounding woodlands since her friend’s marriage to the duke, acquainting themselves with the breadth and beauty of the Sethe private lands. After casting one last glance in Alex’s direction, she turned away and steered her mount toward a break in the trees.
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