That amused him. “If given a choice between the rarest bloom in the world or a diamond of good clarity, you would choose the latter. Only a fool would not, and you do not impress me as being a fool.”
“If the choice was exquisite transience or exquisite permanence, if the diamond were of the first water, I would take the jewel. But if the diamond were second rate, I would not. Now, since you have no interest in procuring flowers, and only a passing interest in gardens, perhaps it is time for you to resume your journey to wherever you were headed when you detoured down our lane.”
“I did not detour. This was my destination. I arrived earlier than I expected, and have been passing the time here to avoid calling at an uncivilized hour.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Still too early, but perhaps you will tell Mrs. Joyes that I am here, if you think she would not mind receiving me now.”
“Mrs. Joyes? Are you a friend of hers?”
“We have friends in common, but she and I have never met to my knowledge.”
“If you have never met, you have never been introduced. I doubt she would receive you under those circumstances.”
“She is strict that way, is she?”
“Fairly so, yes.” Especially today, with you.
“Damn. That is a boring nuisance.”
Being called boring hardly endeared him to her. “Perhaps you should return with a letter of introduction from one of those mutual friends.”
“I would like to meet with her today, since I am here.”
Irritation colored his words. So did a note of command, as if his preference was paramount. She decided that Mrs. Joyes would definitely not oblige his conceit.
“I know her very well, and she will not see you without an introduction. How inconvenient for you that she is a woman consumed by all that boring strictness.”
“Inconvenient for us both. Mine is not a social call. I have come about the Duke of Becksbridge’s estate.”
Relief replaced irritation. She instantly looked more favorably on this visitor. No wonder there had been no letter. She was close enough to London for a personal meeting to be held. And of course this man would be curious about the property, if he had a hand in executing the duke’s will.
“Ah . . . under those circumstances, perhaps Mrs. Joyes can be convinced to receive you.”
“It would be in her interest to do so. If we must stand on ceremony, I will go out the portal, to the front door, and present myself. Otherwise, perhaps you might go in and inform her of my presence in the garden.”
“Neither will be necessary.” She tried what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. “As it happens, I am Mrs. Joyes.”
He gave her a good examination, from crown to toe. “Are you indeed.”
“Forgive my small deception. For all I knew you might have been a dangerous trespasser. In fact, another member of our household has had a pistol trained on you, just in case.”
“Ah, yes, the pistol. I have heard about the pistol from our mutual friends.” He examined the house, probably looking for a gun barrel at a window. “It was a good thing that I did not succumb to my initial impulse to drag you into this arbor and kiss you, then.”
She laughed politely at his inappropriate little joke. His vague smile suggested she found more humor in the comment than intended.
“Are you the executor? A lawyer? When I did not hear anything after the funeral, I feared—”
“I am no lawyer, and old Becksbridge would not dare make me his executor. Heaven forbid he should have saddled me with that burden too.”
He finally stepped out of the arbor, into the sunlight. The perfection of those boots became visible again, and also that of his frock coat and other garments, and the artistic cut of his tousled hair. Brown eyes, with golden lights that flickered like devilish fire, surveyed her from head to toe once more. A touch of gold streaked through his brown hair too.
He was a handsome man, that was certain, made more compelling by a sartorial style that appeared both costly and effortless. A lithe strength marked his posture. He made an impressive figure, in part by appearing utterly indifferent to whether he did or not.
She had no idea who their common friends might be, but he did appear vaguely familiar, as if she had seen him once from a distance at least. She searched her mind, trying to place the memory that nibbled at her. Not so much his face pricked her recollection—more the way he carried himself and his air of arrogance and bored indifference that probably could be felt from the other side of the garden.
“I had no idea Mrs. Joyes was so young,” he said, coming toward her on the path, bemused and curious. “I pictured a woman of more mature years, with a reformer’s severe expression.”
“I am mature enough and can be severe when warranted.”
“I am sure you can be.” He flashed a smile. A rather familiar one. Almost flirtatious. He acted as if they shared a special secret. She could not imagine what he thought that secret might be.
Slowly, languidly, as if he had all day for the tour, he strolled around her as if she were a statue set amid the flowers for viewing.
She wished she could pretend that she did not know what he was thinking as he took his little circular turn. Unfortunately, it flowed through the air. She did not turn to keep an eye on him, but she did not have to. She felt his every step and change in location, and his gaze all but burned through her clothing.
“If you are not a lawyer involved with the estate, just whom am I addressing, sir?”
His casual path brought him to where he faced her again. “I am Castleford.”
Castleford? Dear heavens—the Duke of Castleford?
“Are you unwell, Mrs. Joyes? You have been extraordinarily composed thus far, but now you appear close to fainting. If my failure to identify myself earlier has distressed you, I will be undone.”
His devilish eyes belied his smooth tongue. He was delighted to have flustered her. She prided herself on the composure he mentioned and on an even temper that permitted her to always maintain her poise. All three, she had learned, kept one from being at a disadvantage with others in the world.
She swallowed her surprise. “I am not distressed or even discomposed, so do not concern yourself. I am merely confused as to what connection you could have with the settlement of the estate, Your Grace.”
“Ah.” He scratched his head and tried to appear confused too. “Well, it appears I am the new owner of this property. For reasons unknown, Becksbridge left it to me.”
For a moment her mind refused to comprehend what he said. Then his words settled in, and composure, poise, and good temperament truly deserted her. For the first time in years, in memory, an unholy wrath broke like a storm in her head.
Becksbridge had left this property to him? To Castleford ? To a man so rich he had no use for anything more? To a besotted, notorious libertine who did not give a damn about anyone or anything?
Becksbridge, you insufferable, lying scoundrel.
The “masterful”2 New York Times bestselling author
MADELINE HUNTER
presents the first book in a magnificent historical romance quartet
Ravishing in Red
Audrianna Kelmsleigh is unattached, independent—and armed. Her adversary is Lord Sebastian Summerhays. What they have in common is Audrianna’s father, who died in a scandalous conspiracy—a deserved death, in Sebastian’s eyes. Audrianna vows to clear her father’s name, never expecting to fall in love with the man devoted to destroying it ...
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Don’t miss the New York Times bestseller from MADELINE HUNTER
Provocative in Pearls
Their marriage was arranged, but their desire was not . . .
After two years, the Earl of Hawkeswell has located his missing bride, heiress Verity Thompson. Coerced into marrying Hawkeswell by her duplicitous cousin, Verity fled London for the countryside. Now, the couple must make the most of an arranged marriage—even if it means surrendering to their shared de
sire.
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She was trained in the art of pleasure,
but she’s about to get her first lesson in love . . .
From New York Times bestselling author MADELINE HUNTER
Sinful in Satin
The daughter of a famed London courtesan, Celia was educated in the art of pleasure—destined, it seemed, to follow in her mother’s footsteps. But instead, Celia ran away, taking refuge with friends far from society’s debauched circles.
Her quiet life comes to an abrupt end when her mother dies. Celia has inherited all of her property, which includes massive debts and a small house in town. She has also inherited Jonathan Albrighton, an enigmatic gentleman who has lived in the house as a tenant . . . a man Celia soon admits she is in no hurry to evict, no matter how deliciously unsettling his presence.
With mounting debts threatening everything she had hoped to build, Celia is forced to consider embracing the scandalous profession for which she was groomed. But now there is only one man for whom she wants to put her erotic training to use . . .
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