“Is that your idea of evil behavior? You are an innocent!”
“Am I? Then I dare say I should like to remain so.” She tied off the ends of the bandage and stood up. “That should hold, I think, until you may at least reach your home and have it properly attended.”
Gavin flexed his elbow a bit to test her work and had to admit his arm felt much better than it had before. He was beginning the feel a bit more like himself and his temper was much improved.
“Where did you learn to tie a bandage in such a manner?” he asked.
“My husband,” she replied, as she gathered up the tattered remnants of the bed sheet. “He, too, often found himself in a fight over a bet or a sporting event. I often bandaged the outcome.”
His dark brows came together. “That sounds hardly the job for a woman like you.”
Julia shrugged her slim shoulders. “There was no one else to do it sometimes.” Her expressive eyes traveled over the scars etched on his chest and shoulders. “Who bandages your wounds?”
“My valet serves all my needs very ably.”
“You are not thinking of having him tend this wound, too, are you?”
“Of course!”
“But you really should have a surgeon to stitch it up.” She placed her small hand on his good arm to draw his attention, and said, impulsively, “Promise me you shall have a surgeon examine you.”
A barking retort hovered on the tip of his tongue; but one look into Julia’s green eyes so filled with honest and earnest concern, and the words died away. She was looking down at him in such an appealing manner that he felt his gaze linger appreciatively over her face. He recalled himself and said, rather grudgingly, “I shall make no promises!”
Julia didn’t argue the point. She took the basin of water to the door and stepped outside to dump it. When she came back in, the Duke’s eyes were upon her, examining her every detail, and intently watching her as she busily tidied the cottage.
Absently, he reached over to grasp the bottle and he gave its contents a slight swirl. Ignoring the teacup, he put the bottle to his lips and poured a good quantity of bourbon into his mouth. After a few more swallows, and with his arm feeling better, he was much more like his usual selfand he found that his gaze settled much more favorably on the little red-head with the porcelain skin.
But no sooner did that spark of attraction spring to life, than he ruthlessly doused it. From habit, his taste in women ran toward serving maids and married women of the ton. Women who were unsuitable or unavailable for anything more than a dalliance. Women who were well up to snuff and knew the rules of the game. At all costs, he steered away from women like Julia Pettingale.
“I should have left when I found you were here,” he muttered, grudgingly.
“Why? Surely there is nothing wrong with two strangers seeking shelter from a storm?”
“Did it never occur to you that the stories that are whispered about me are true? Did you never doubt whether I can be trusted to be alone with you?”
He was looking at her in an odd way that sent her heart fluttering, but she managed to say, with admirable calm, “I am not at all afraid of you, if that is what you mean. If people whisper about you the sort of things I think they whisper, I have nothing to fear. A man such as you would never find interest in a female such as me.”
His dark gaze swept over her, covering every inch of her appearance, from the top of her auburn curls to the tips of her riding boots. “Are you certain of that?” he asked, and he watched as a flush of color crept over her smooth, fair cheeks.
It had been a long time since he had seen a lady blush. The women with whom he usually associated had long since relied upon a rouge-pot to bring a bloom of color to their cheeks. But there was nothing artificial, he judged, about Julia Pettingale. She looked at him with her clear, green eyes gone slightly wide with surprise, and her cheeks glowing rosily; and for a momentfor just a momenthe was charmed.
“Never mind,” he said, and he downed the last of the contents from the bottle. “As it happens, you are correct. I do prefer a style of woman much different than you.”
“Then I am safe to wait out the storm with you.”
“Do as you like, but I am leaving,” he said, getting to his feet and reaching for his riding jacket. He slowly shrugged his arms into the sleeves and pulled the well-tailored lapels over his broad chest.
He wasn’t certain the rain had stopped; but he was certain that he had to get out of that cottage. A woman like Julia Pettingale was dangerous; she was the kind of woman who made a man think of marriage and children, and playing host and hostess to the right sort of people. He hadn’t entertained such thoughts in years and he wasn’t about to start entertaining them now.
He swung his caped riding coat over his shoulders and threw open the splintered door. The rain had indeed stopped. He stepped out into the early evening air and took a deep, cleansing breath. Behind the cottage his horse was still tethered in the shed and he led it around to the front. Julia Pettingale was standing in the open doorway, watching him.
“You’re not just going to leave me here, are you?” she asked.
He steeled himself against the puzzled note in her voice. Instead of looking at her, he made a great show of checking his horse’s bridle and reins. “I’m not going to abandon you, if that’s what you mean. Stay here and when I reach Merrifield I shall send a carriage back for you. Of course, if you prefer not to wait, you may walk back to the vicarage.”
She looked out at the rain-soaked ground and at the muddy little lane that led from the cottage toward the mired road. “But it will be dark soon and it’s miles to the vicarage. You said so, yourself!”
“There’s only one horse, Julia,” he retorted, his attention still trained on the bridle.
She was a little startled to hear him use her Christian name, but she was even more alarmed by the prospect of being left alone in the cottage. “But it will be dark soon!” she said, again.
Gavin thought he detected a note of true worry in her tone. He looked at her then and just for a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her deep auburn hair framing her perfect complexion, and the green of her eyes providing a mirror to her thoughts, he thought she was one of the prettiest woman he had seen, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed that before.
He turned his attention back to fiddling with the bridle and said, gruffly, “You’ve got candles and the fire still burns in the hearth. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
His words had sounded harsher than he had intended, but he wasn’t going to take them back. For a moment he wrestled with himself over what to do next. Common sense told him he should leave her there; that he should send a carriage back to take her to the vicarage; that he should go about his business and forget he ever met her.
But there was some other nagging feeling within him, long dormant and unidentified, that made him reluctant to do as reason dictated.
Then he made the mistake of looking at her again and he saw that she was watching him intently. Her green eyes were wide and a bit apprehensive, and her full lips were parted as if she wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of any argument that might change his mind.
She looked a little helpless and very young. A feeling he judged to be compassion melted his resolve. Muffling a curse, he stomped up to the cottage. In a single, strong movement, he scooped her up in his arms and tossed her up onto his horse’s back.
The effort cost him. He knew immediately that his arm had started to bleed again. It certainly hurt like the devil, but it didn’t pain him any more than his conscience would have, had he left her standing there.
“I’ll take you home,” he said, gruffly, and he swung his great size up onto the saddle behind her.
He didn’t wait for her to answer but set his horse trotting, his injured arm circled about her waist, steadying her against the hard wall of his body.
Julia gasped and couldn’t quite catch her breath. It took a moment
for her to recover from the surprise of suddenly finding herself on horseback. “I cannot ride with you like this! It—It is most improper!”
“And you, Lady Julia Pettingale, are a most proper young woman.”
“Of course!”
His arm tightened about her and he said, ruthlessly, “You may ride with me thus or you may go back to remain alone at the cottage. The choice is yours.”
“I thought you intended to leave me!”
“I’m well within my rights to change my mind.”
“And do you know where you’re going?”
“Madam, let me remind you that I am not the one who was lost!”
The abrupt change in his behavior sent her head spinning. Julia turned slightly to look up into his face. Perhaps she could make more sense of his expression than she could of his words. She found, however, that his expression was inscrutable. His lips were pressed into a grim line of purpose, and his gaze was intent upon the road ahead.
“Well?” he demanded, suddenly. “What have you decided?”
She realized she had been staring at him and quickly looked away. “Decided?”
“Yes. Do you like what you see, or don’t you?”
Her back went straight. “You must be mistaken!”
“Of course. After all, proper young ladies do not stare at gentlemen.”
She felt his arm tighten about her, pulling her ever closer against him. “You are no gentleman!”
“Just so.”
“You are nothing but a bounder and a rogue!” she said, easily recalling all the whispered stories and rumors that had been catalogued against him.
“I am a great many things, perhaps, but never in my life have I harmed a prim-and-proper widow, so you may rest easy.”
Rest easy? With the strong arms of a handsome man about her, Julia Pettingale was far from easy. Her heart was galloping wildly and it was all she could do to keep her breath from coming in short, betraying bursts.
She felt most completely at his mercy and she wasn’t quite sure if she was exhilarated or alarmed by the notion. Yet she also knew that as long as he regarded her as a woman of prim and proper goodness, she had nothing to fear from him. That realization should have afforded her a measure of peace; instead, Julia was aware of a sharp prick to her vanity.
“Very well, my lord duke!” she said, her back as straight as a plank. “I see I have no other choice but to trust your judgment. I shall rely on you to see me safely back to the vicarage.”
The summer sun was setting in the evening sky when they topped a rise and started down the other side, affording Julia a full view of the impressive facade of a sprawling country mansion. She had never before come across it while riding and she knew instinctively they were nowhere near the vicarage.
“What place is this?”
“Merrifield.”
“And who is the owner of such a grand estate?”
“I am,” said Gavin in a deep, even tone. “When I said I was taking you home, I meant, my home.”
Julia looked up at him in surprise. “You cannot mean to do such a thing! A bachelor residence? I cannot! Oh, I wish you had taken me to the vicarage!”
His jaw tightened. “I won’t ravish you in front of the servants, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he said, darkly.
“That’s not what I meant! I only meant that it isn’t seemly or proper for me toA bachelor residence is no place for an unattached woman!” She looked uncertainly up at him and realized too late how close his face was to hers.
He was stared back at her with a darkling look that almost convinced her that he could read her thoughts.
He tightened his hold about her and urged his horse forward. “If I were to take you directly back to the vicarage, we should have to pass several of your neighbors homes. What do you think they would believe after seeing you riding so with me? And what would your friend think to have you arrive thus at her doorstep?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” she said still worried.
“Then consider this: You have my word that you shall be quite safe. During the time you are a guest in my home, I shall be the very pink of gentlemanliness.”
She gave his promise some thought. “Very well. I shall allow you to take me to your home, but only if you agree to send for a surgeon immediate upon our arrival so your arm may be properly examined.”
For the first time since their acquaintance she heard him laugh softly.
“My dear young woman, you are not exactly in a position of power to demand anything of me.” Tightening his arm meaningfully about her, he added softly, “But I could demand a few things of you.”
“You promised to be a gentleman!” she reminded him.
“And so I shall be.”
But he didn’t ease his hold of her until they reached the front steps of the great house. Gavin drew his horse to a halt before the front entrance of Merrifield and leapt gracefully down to the ground.
A stable groom appeared from nowhere to catch the reins and hold the horse steady and two more grooms stood on hand, at attention, awaiting their master’s pleasure and staring unabashedly up at Julia.
She looked down at the Duke’s hand, held expectantly up toward her, and a niggling of conscience caused her to hesitate. “This is really most improper andAnd I should not stay alone here with you!”
“You may suit yourself, of course. But you shall have an even farther walk to the vicarage now than before.” She hesitated still and he frowned up at her. “Do you truly believe all the stories your friend whispers about me, Julia? Are you convinced I have no honor at all?”
“Oh, no! There is honor in everyone, even!” She stopped short, aware that she had almost blundered in her reply; and to make amends, she reached down to place her hands on his shoulders.
In the next moment her feet were on the ground and she was beside him, with his hand at her elbow to guide her up the steps.
At the front door, the duke’s butler watched them ascend the steps. His expression showed his astonishment as his gaze traveled from Julia to the Duke and back to Julia again.
“What in heaven’s name has occurred? I beg your grace’s pardon,” he said, quickly recollecting himself, “but you look as though you’ve been set upon! Were they footpads? A band of brigands?”
“A thunderstorm,” said Gavin over his shoulder as he ushered Julia into the great hall. “Hennings, this is Lady Pettingale, who will be with us for a time this evening. Have Mrs. Crabtree attend her andHennings, are you listening?”
The butler, who had been staring at Julia with an expression of curiosity mixed with stunned surprise, heard the sharp tone in his master’s voice. “Yes! Yes, of course!” he said, pulling himself together. “I beg your grace’s pardon!”
“Summon Mrs. Crabtree and have my valet attend me here in the hall.”
Julia stepped forward. “And be so good as to send for a surgeon,” she said, and she found the Duke’s eyes upon her. “You promised,” she reminded him.
“So I did,” he said, softly. “Do as Lady Pettingale asks, Hennings. Ah, Mrs. Crabtree! Take Lady Pettingale upstairs and see to her comfort, will you?”
But instead of following the housekeeper, Julia moved toward the Duke, her attention fixed upon a fresh stain on the sleeve of his coat. “And you?” she asked, quite concerned. “Will you be all right?”
“I shall be upstairs myself in a moment, as soon as I have my valet attend me here. I want these boots off before I trek mud throughout the entire house. Go with Mrs. Crabtree, Julia. I shall see you presently.”
Julia obediently followed the housekeeper upstairs to a very elegantly furnished apartment. As soon as she stepped across the threshold of that large, spacious room, she caught sight of her reflection in the pier glass hanging on the far wall. Stopped her in her tracks and stood for a moment, staring back in astonishment at her reflected image.
Even to her own kind eye she looked quite done up. Her hair had come loose fro
m its pins in places and tendrils of her red curls hung tangled and willy-nilly down her back. A smudge of candle soot adorned her chin and there was mud caked across the toes of her riding boots.
But her green velvet riding habit had suffered the worst damage. Pock marks speckled the shoulders and back of her velvet jacket from when she had run out in the rain to fetch the bowl of water; and the Duke had left some very visible mud prints along the lush fabric where his boots had scuffled on her skirt.
“Oh, dear,” she said, sorrowfully. “My beautiful riding habit! It—It’s ruined. Absolutely ruined.”
Mrs. Crabtree stepped up behind her. “Begging your lady’s pardon, but it’s not so very bad. A good brushing will take that mud off the hems and a gentle toweling might lessen those marks on the jacket, I think.”
Julia looked doubtfully at the pitiful image that stared back at her from the mirror. “No wonder everyone was looking at me so,” she murmured. “No wonder all the servants were staring! I look a horrid fright!”
“Oh, my lady, anyone can see you are a beautiful woman,” said the housekeeper, kindly. “You’ve just been through a hedgerow backwards, as the saying does go. But you’re still quite lovely, if I may be so bold.”
Julia shook her head slightly. “You’re very kind, but I know a look of shock when I see one. And every servant who has seen me thus far has worn that very expression!”
Mrs. Crabtree’s generous brows knit into a single, furrowed line. “I was hoping you would not have noticed the stares, my lady. You must forgive us, but we were so surprised when you did arrive. You see, you are the first woman our master has brought to Merrifield since our pretty little duchess died.”
Julia turned quickly to look at her. “Pretty little duchess? Are you speaking of Lord Warminster’s mother?”
“Oh, no, my lady! I speak of his grace’s wife. Such a beauty she was and dearer than breath. My master was only married to his pretty little duchess a little more than a year before she was taken from this world.”
Julia felt her chest constrict a little. “I didn’t know the duke had been married,” she said, a good deal surprised.
The Notorious Nobleman Page 3