Nicholas, noting her sudden distraction, also became aware of the approaching rider and unconsciously relaxed his hold on her horse's reins.
Utterly unnerved by her first encounter with the handsome Duke of Sethe, Ashleigh was at a complete loss for words. Glancing toward the approaching rider, she was immediately reminded of her current state of dress and groaned inwardly. It was bad enough that the duke had seen her garbed as a lad, but the last thing she needed was for someone else to witness her shockingly unconventional attire. Madeline assuredly wouldn’t be pleased. Better to make a hasty retreat and explain later. “Please excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, snatching the reins from the duke’s now lax grip. Wheeling Raider around, she touched her heels to the stallion’s sides and they were off, the horse’s great hooves thundering loudly beneath her as she rode swiftly away. Heading toward the estate, she cast one last glance over her shoulder as the distance between them widened.
As Nicholas watched in frustration, horse and rider were once again a fast moving blur against the scenic backdrop. Cursing the unwelcome intrusion, Nicholas turned to observe the advancing rider, whom he now recognized as his neighbor, Roger Lyndwich, Viscount Montville. He doubted the girl was Roger’s mistress, for Montville was far more interested in his bloodhounds and hunting rifles than he was in hot-blooded, voluptuous young women. He was probably searching for one of his wayward hounds. Bloody perfect timing Montville, he thought irritably as the dull throbbing in his loins went unassuaged.
Oh well, despite the untimely interruption, he would discover her identity; it shouldn’t be that difficult. He would find out who she was and then determine whether or not a physical relationship could be pursued. In a rare turn of events, he would be the pursuer, rather than the pursued. It was an intriguing and surprisingly pleasant notion.
After dismounting, Ashleigh hurried from the stable, uncharacteristically leaving Raider’s care to one of the grooms. Upon entering the house, she raced up the stairs and went straight to her chamber, closing the door behind her. Flinging herself onto the bed, she immediately analyzed every detail of her encounter with the duke. Once he had gotten past his initial ire, he had been attracted to her, she was sure of it. For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt truly grateful to have been blessed with a pretty face and pleasing figure. Her only regret was that he had seen her dressed in her breeches. A man of his stature would surely view that as unsophisticated and decidedly unladylike, she realized in frustration. Drat! If she had known that he was coming, she would have been better prepared. Oh well, she mused regretfully, there was nothing she could do about it now.
Her thoughts then turned to the evening ahead. Assuming that they would be formally introduced at dinner, she was determined to make a good impression the second time around. She would wear one of her new gowns and dazzle him with her feminine charms, she decided. The oh-so-handsome duke would find her not the least bit unfeminine or ill bred, she would make certain of that. In fact, she could hardly wait.
When Nicholas arrived at Sethe Manor he immediately sought out his grandmother, intending to rectify the matter of his unwanted houseguest as soon as possible. With only a quick word to his startled staff, he then strode directly to her private salon located on the second floor. Having sent one of the maids to inform the dowager duchess of his presence, he threw himself into the nearest chair, impatiently tapping his fingers against the upholstered arms as he awaited his grandmother’s appearance.
As he had ridden the remaining distance to the house, his mind had been consumed with images of the flame-haired beauty and their brief, though shocking encounter. Such an instantaneous and overwhelming physical attraction was rare, even for him. Now, as he waited for his grandmother’s arrival, her image once again filled his thoughts. He realized that it wasn’t just her beauty, but also her scandalous behavior that intrigued him. She was unique, and he found that remarkably exciting.
His silent musings were interrupted however, when he heard the sound of someone’s approach a few moments later. Rising from the chair, he turned toward the door, smiling as his grandmother entered the room.
“Nicholas, I wasn't expecting you for another week,” Madeline exclaimed, delight evident in her voice.
“I know Grandmother, it was a sudden decision.” Bending down to place a light kiss upon her cheek, Nicholas inhaled the familiar scent of the expensive French perfume his grandmother favored. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Come sit down,” he said, leading her over to a velvet-covered settee, making sure she was settled comfortably before voicing his objections concerning Lady St. John.
“Grandmother, I have returned because I wanted to speak to you about Lady…”
“Oh Nicholas, you must have gotten my note,” she interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish his statement. “I am so glad you wanted to return early and meet Ashleigh. She is such a lovely young lady and an absolute joy to have around. In fact, I couldn’t be more pleased with her presence.”
Damnation, the calculated glint in her eye told him that she knew exactly what he was going to say, and apparently she wasn't going to make it easy for him. “Actually….” He tried to interject, but his grandmother deliberately cut him off once again.
“Without you and Brendon here I tend to get a bit lonely you know.” Her tone grew somewhat wistful for a moment. “Having Ashleigh here is just what I needed to raise my spirits.” Her expression brightened then and she smiled enthusiastically at her grandson. “I know you will adore her the moment you meet her, just as I did.”
Nicholas regarded his grandmother's beaming countenance and knew he had lost the battle before he had even begun to fight. Damn she's good, he thought to himself with a touch of admiration, promptly resigning himself to the fact that Lady St. John was apparently there to stay, at least for the time being.
With that matter decided, they spent the next twenty minutes in pleasant conversation. Nicholas then withdrew to his study, where he spent the better part of the afternoon going over the estate books and dreading the upcoming meeting with his temporary houseguest.
Later that evening, as Ashleigh sat before the large oval mirror positioned above the dressing table in her bedchamber, she regarded the young woman who stood behind her, attempting to tame her riotous curls into an elegant chignon. Annie, a petite, slightly plump brunette in her early-twenties had been assigned to serve as her lady’s maid, and she had quickly discovered that not only did she possess a sunny disposition and an exuberant personality, but she also had a remarkable talent for hairstyling. Ashleigh, who had never had much luck controlling her heavy mass of fiery curls, was amazed at Annie's seemingly effortless skill. Annie also possessed a very talkative nature, which she quickly realized might be helpful in learning more about the duke.
“Have you been employed at Sethe Manor for long, Annie?”
“My yes, since I was fifteen,” she said, nodding her head up and down. “My father has been the Sethe's head groundskeeper for nearly thirty years now, and my mother has worked in the kitchen for almost as long.”
Ten minutes later, Ashleigh knew more about Nicholas Leighton and the Sethe family than she had ever intended. Annie was a natural born chatter-box and it had taken only a few subtle questions to get her going. Now, after hearing everything that Annie had told her about the Sethes, she was shocked and saddened by the tragedy that had befallen their family, and felt more than a little guilty for unintentionally soliciting such personal information. However, according to Annie, everything that she had told her was apparently common knowledge.
Rising from her seat at the small table, Ashleigh stood and smiled graciously at Annie. “You did such a beautiful job,” she marveled. “Thank You.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she replied cheerfully. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Annie, thank you.”
“All right then. Enjoy your evening, My Lady.”
Once Annie had left the room, Ashleigh went
over and sat down upon the edge of her bed, her mind replaying everything she had just learned. Apparently, Nicholas' father, the previous duke, had been quite riotous and unruly during his younger days. He had run with a wild crowd, and according to what Annie had learned over the years, his parents had been thrilled when he had finally decided to marry and start a family. Everyone had thought that the beautiful and serene Lysette DuVale would be just the thing to calm young Richard's unruly nature, and early in their marriage it had seemed that she had done just that, but the serenity hadn't lasted long.
Two years later, Richard's father had died, his mother had retired to her dower lands, and Richard was named the seventh Duke of Sethe. Shortly after taking the reins of the family fortune, the young duke had apparently slipped back into his wild ways, frequently entertaining his raucous group of friends at the estate, and hosting extravagant and decadent affairs that often shocked his sedate young wife, as well as the household servants. The relationship between the duke and duchess began to disintegrate and after the birth of their two sons, the duke spent less and less time at their country home.
Unexpectedly, when young Nicholas was ten, and his brother four, the duke had returned to the country after an unusually long absence, surprising everyone with his unannounced visit. Though Annie had been too young to remember it herself, she had heard the story of that fateful time repeatedly. Evidently, the duke had developed a serious drinking habit, and his personality, previously characterized as wild and unruly, had become mean-spirited and oft times cruel. During his stay, the servants grew wary of his increasing temper, and the duchess, seeming to live in constant fear of his unpredictable rages, had kept her distance, in addition to keeping the children closeted away in the nursery for much of the time. And then one day, much to everyone’s surprise and dismay, the duchess had simply vanished.
Rumor had run rampant throughout the staff, but the final consensus had been that the duchess, dreadfully unhappy in her marriage, had run away with another man. The theory had apparently been substantiated by the duke's drunken ravings about his adulterous wife to any and all who would listen, including his shocked staff.
Then, just as they were all slowly adjusting to the duchess' absence, the duke had unexpectedly taken his own life. It was a horrible tragedy and had quickly become the scandal of the decade.
Those poor boys, Ashleigh thought to herself. Like them, she too had lost her parents at a young age, but even so, she could hardly imagine the pain they must have suffered under such horrible circumstances. And for their mother never to have returned for them, even after the death of her husband, well that was simply heartless and cruel.
Lost in thought, she had completely forgotten the time when her eyes darted anxiously towards the clock set atop the fireplace mantel. It was eight-o’clock exactly, and dinner at Sethe Manor was served promptly at eight, each and every night. Oh dear! After her unorthodox meeting with the duke that afternoon, the last thing she wanted was to be late for dinner.
Rising from the bed she rushed to the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the room and took one last look at her appearance. The light coral color of her gown heightened the peach hue of her cheeks and the snug, square cut bodice accentuated the fullness of her breasts. The gown was beautiful and much more sophisticated than anything she had ever worn before, and with her hair styled to perfection, thanks to Annie’s capable hands, she knew she had never looked better. She could only hope that Nicholas Leighton liked what he saw. Taking a deep calming breath, she turned and hurried from her room.
When she reached the dining room she saw that the duke and his grandmother were already there. The duke stood at one of the many tall windows lining the east wall, staring out across the front lawns, a drink held casually in one hand, while Madeline stood conferring with one of the footmen. Ashleigh was standing hesitantly upon the threshold when Madeline looked up and noticed her presence.
“There you are, dearest,” Madeline said, as she politely dismissed the young man to whom she had been speaking and made her way to Ashleigh's side.
“I'm so sorry that I am late, Madeline,” Ashleigh murmured with an apologetic smile.
“That's quite alright, dear,” she replied, grasping her hand. Her eyes then swept Ashleigh from top to bottom, her expression pleased. “You look breathtaking. I knew this color would look lovely on you.”
“Thank you, Madeline. You look quite lovely yourself,” she said, taking in Madeline’s elegant watered-silk gown, the color a deep burgundy.
“Come, let me introduce you to my grandson,” she said with a warm smile as she led her toward the duke, who had remained standing at the window seemingly oblivious to her presence.
Noting their approach, Nicholas turned his attention to the young woman standing beside his grandmother and very nearly choked on the sip of brandy he'd just taken. His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked upon the young woman he had encountered earlier that morning. Swiftly his eyes raked over her body, noting that an elegant silk gown had replaced the shirt and tight breeches.
“Nicholas, I would like you to meet Lady Ashleigh St. John.”
His grandmother's voice pulled him from his momentary stupor as the young lady sank into a deep and graceful curtsey, affording him an unobstructed view of the tops of her magnificent breasts. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to maintain control of his rioting emotions.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.” Rising from her curtsey, she eyed the duke with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she noted his utter state of shock. She also noticed that his eyes had lingered for a moment upon the expanse of exposed flesh revealed by the cut of her gown, and felt a slight shiver race down her spine.
“Lady St. John,” he replied with a curt nod of his head, his expression now composed, the transformation lightening-swift. Without another word, he once again shifted his gaze toward the window. He knew that his behavior was discourteous, but much to his consternation he was completely disconcerted and disinclined to show it.
Ashleigh, stung by the duke’s brusque tone and rude dismissal, was unsure how to respond. Thus she simply remained silent.
Madeline regarded her grandson in surprise, and then glanced curiously back and forth between him and Ashleigh, seeming to note the sudden tension between them, though she clearly had no idea as to its cause. She looked as if she were about to question Nicholas, and then abruptly changed her mind.
“Perhaps we should be seated,” she said somewhat awkwardly, her smile overly bright. “I believe we have kept Monsieur LeFeve waiting long enough.”
Moments later Nicholas had taken his seat at the head of the table, with Madeline seated to his left and Ashleigh St. John on his right. Glancing to his right from the corner of his eye, he sought to reassure himself that the elegantly clad young woman sitting beside him was indeed the same young vixen he had witnessed riding hell-bent across the grassy flatlands that very morning, and indeed she was. Good lord, he thought in horror, he had actually considered trying to locate her with the intention of pursuing an amorous liaison, the granddaughter of the Earl of Dexter for Christ's sake. And now here she was, sitting at his dinner table; it defied belief.
Ashleigh glanced uncertainly at the duke as the first course was set before them. His features were taut and his demeanor indicated that he was anything but pleased by her presence. She could only assume that he was still vexed by their earlier encounter, for she could fathom no other reason for his boorish behavior.
As the meal progressed, her attempts at conversation were rewarded with only the briefest of answers and her friendly smiles achieved only austere frowns in return. He conversed amiably with his grandmother however, his tone filled with warmth and affection when it was directed toward Madeline. Ashleigh could sense that the duchess was perplexed by her grandson’s seeming uncharacteristic behavior, though she refrained from making direct mention of it. She did make a concerted effort to include her in their conversation
however, and she appreciated the gesture.
After a while, Ashleigh simply sat in relative silence, uneasily shifting the delicious but scarcely touched food around on her plate as the duke continued to direct the majority of his attention to his grandmother.
For Nicholas, ignoring Ashleigh proved far more difficult than he made it seem. Seated only a few feet away from the ravishing young beauty, it was nearly impossible to keep his gaze from drifting in her direction. In addition, whenever his grandmother managed to include her in the conversation, it became increasingly apparent that not only was she beautiful, but she was surprisingly intelligent as well. Under different circumstances he might well have admired the unique combination, but unfortunately with the situation being what it was, he was only too aware that the combination could be exceedingly dangerous as well. Past experience had taught him that lesson quite well and he wasn’t about to forget it. Better to act the part of an ill-mannered boor now, he surmised, and promptly douse that initial spark that had flared between them earlier.
When the last course was finally taken away, Ashleigh was immensely relieved to be able to rise from the dinner table at last. Unable to endure another moment of the duke’s obvious disdain, she declined Madeline’s invitation to join them in the parlor for an after-dinner drink. Pleading a headache, she bid them each a polite goodnight and then escaped quickly to her chamber.
Watching her go, Nicholas felt a twinge of regret, but he swiftly quashed it. It was for the best.
By the time she reached her bedchamber, Ashleigh was both frustrated and confused. Had her behavior that morning been so horribly offensive to the duke that he could now treat her with only the barest hint of civility? It seemed so at odds with what she had learned about him. Madeline had always spoken of him in the most flattering manner and with such obvious affection, and to her he had been nothing but charming and solicitous. In addition, during the past few days she had gotten the distinct impression that Nicholas Leighton was highly admired and very well-liked by his staff. Therefore, she could only presume that the manner in which he had behaved at dinner was not an indication of his true personality, but was instead, solely for her benefit. Nevertheless, even as she bristled at his rather inauspicious behavior, she couldn't deny that she was still drawn to him, at least physically. She could still picture him in his elegant dinner jacket, snowy white shirt, and finely-tailored trousers, looking entirely too handsome to be believed. Blasted man, he was like a fairy-tale prince come to life. It was so unfair.
Until You Page 4