“Oh, I see,” Kay said, her mind still reeling over the wedding present part. Could it be true, Hunter had actually hired a French chef for her sake, as a gift? She shook off her bemused state to give Mrs. Baghurst her full attention.
Her eyes grew as big as teacups in her distress. “He won’t listen to me. I’m all out of patience with the man.”
“Not to worry, Mrs. Baghurst,” Kay soothed. “I’ll speak to Henri and we’ll get this sorted out.”
Mrs. Baghurst nodded. “It’s not my way to be hard in these matters.”
A choking sound came from Mr. Thornhill.
Mrs. Baghurst slashed him a heated glare before continuing. “But, ‘tis my duty to keep the household content and running smoothly.”
“I understand, Mrs. Baghurst. You were right in coming to me.”
Kay spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Henri’s complaints about his staff and the out of date equipment in the kitchen. After managing to smooth his ruffled feathers by promising to bring matters to the attention of the Duke, she consulted with Mrs. Baghurst over the hiring of a new scullery maid. Now all that was left to do was to consult with her husband—a task she’d didn’t look forward to in his present mood.
***
Delicious aromas swirled up from Kay’s plate, but she did not eat. She was too busy playing with the linen napkin in her lap.
Hunter ate in silence, supposedly still brooding over the loss of his stallion. He and Miska had searched every meadow and paddock within miles, but there was no sign of him. Miska had returned to the heath to break camp, since they’d be leaving in the morning. With no other leads, Hunter had halted the search until morning.
Kay sipped her wine, sending furtive glances over the rim of her glass. She loathed adding to his bad temper, but the feud below stairs needed to be dealt with before it grew to a war of colossal proportions. Her gaze flitted from her plate, to the window, then to the liveried footman hovering behind him.
Hunter set down his fork, lifting one brow. “You might as well tell me and be done with it. My day can’t get much worse.”
Kay took a long breath, then began to explain the events following her return to the manor, ending with, “You needn’t worry, the problem is almost solved.”
He leaned back in his chair, giving her a long look. “Almost?”
“I may have implied, well perhaps promised…you’d make improvements to the kitchen. Not everything, mind you,” she hastened to assure him, “Just the ovens, the larders, and a few extra windows for added light.”
Red wine splashed over the rim of his glass onto the white linen tablecloth. The footman rushed forward to dab at it with a napkin. “Leave it!” Hunter barked, causing the footman to leap back. Hunter’s gold eyes narrowed on her. “The answer is no, Madam, an unequivocal no. There is nothing wrong with that kitchen. Many generations of my family have been fed from that kitchen, I’ll have you know. And no one has starved yet.”
She spread her hands wide in appeal. “But Henri will be so disappointed.”
“Ha! Clearly it is your intention to bankrupt me before this year is out.”
Her cheeks turned hot at mention of their bargain in front of the servants. “It’s of little consequence to me.” She shrugged. “I’m only suggesting what should be done if you wish to keep a chef of Henri’s caliber in your employ.”
He gave a short grunt. “I’ll consider it.”
She jumped out of her chair awash with joy, then rushed over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I can hardly wait to tell them! Henri has wonderful design ideas and Mrs. Baghurst will be thrilled. She’s been running herself ragged trying to keep scullery maids.” Kay hurried from the room to find Mrs. Baghurst and tell her the good news before her husband changed his mind.
It wasn’t until much later when she was readying herself for bed that she remembered she hadn’t told him about the rider on the beach. On impulse she padded to the connecting door. Then, just before she was about to knock, she stopped.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. What happened in his study had been a mistake—a mistake she couldn’t let happen again. No matter how strong her attraction to him, it was wrong to pretend theirs was a true marriage when it wasn’t. It would only lead to more heartbreak, and that, she could not afford.
She dropped her hand to retreat to the safety of her bed with a heavy heart.
Chapter Twenty-One
“How should I know what he’s doing here?” Phelia rammed the croquet ball through the hoop with a sharp swing of her mallet. “I certainly didn’t invite him.”
Peter stepped up to take his shot. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Charlie invited him, when he wasn’t even going to be here.” He took careful aim, then gave the ball a hard crack. It bounced off the hoop. His lips tightened. “I don’t want him here.”
“It’s only for a short time, while he looks at some property,” Phelia soothed.
“And who’s idea was it that Herrington buy property down here anyway?”
Phelia sashayed up to take her shot, doing her best to ignore his harsh tone. “It wasn’t mine, if that’s what you’re getting at. We haven’t exchanged a civil word since Waterloo.” Laud! Peter could be such a bore sometimes, moaning and thrashing like a schoolboy. The whine in his voice made her grind her teeth.
“So you’ve said. Still, I find it interesting that he should arrive here the day after we do.” Peter’s grip tightened on the mallet. “For that matter, why are we here? You detest the country. And, don’t tell me again your father thought the place needed checking up on. He was here last month.”
She leaned on her mallet, waiting for Peter to take his shot. “He was only down for a little shooting. That’s hardly enough time to snap the servants into shape and make sure they’re not robbing us blind.”
“Stop changing the subject.” Peter smashed his mallet on the turf like a club. “I want Herrington gone. Do you hear me? I don’t care how you do it. Just get rid of him.”
She cracked her ball against the post with a solid hit. “Never mind, my love. I’ve been playing longer than you have.” She strolled across the lawn, holding her straw bonnet with one hand as she went, the wide lace of her green gown swishing along the grass.
A small table spread with a white cloth sat waiting with their tea. Phelia sat down to pour. “Why don’t you speak to him,” she said when he joined her. “He’s gone all day, riding about the countryside. I’ve barely seen him since he’s been here. Better still, go with him and nudge him into buying sooner.”
“I don’t want him to buy sooner.” Peter glared at her. “I don’t want him to buy at all! I come down here to relax, and I don’t enjoy bumping into your old suitors everywhere I go, especially him.”
She suppressed a smile. Gad, it felt good to see Peter jealous. He was usually so cold and undemonstrative. Seeing him like this fired her blood. Perhaps she’d go to his room tonight and allow him to make love to her.
He was anxious to produce an heir—had even suggested they set up some sort of schedule. Laud! The man was a complete oaf where women were concerned. She wouldn’t spread her legs on demand. There had to be a damn good reason before she’d lie beneath his skinny sweating body, and put up with his clumsy pawing.
She passed him his teacup with a loving smile. Then she walked around his chair, smoothing her hand up his arm. Very gently, she nibbled on his earlobe, sliding her arms around his neck. “There’s only you now, my love. You know that.”
“Not here, Phelia.” Peter attempted to wriggle away. “What will the servants think?”
“They’ll think that I love my husband.” She eyed the second footman standing a few yards away. Then slowly and deliberately she ran her hands down Peter’s arms while she stuck the tip of her tongue in his ear.
“Phelia! For God’s sake, sit down!”
She laughed, gliding back
to her chair. It was always such a pleasure to watch him squirm—see that spark of lust in his eye. He melted like soft clay in her hands, making it easy to get whatever she wanted from him.
After so many years under her father’s thumb, it was nice to be in control for a change. Herrington wouldn’t have given her that. “Why do you hate Henry so? You’ve hardly spoken to him since the war ended.”
Peter’s brows drew together under his long straight nose. “I don’t hate him. I just don’t trust him.”
“You trusted him before this business with Hartley.”
“He let a man die.” Peter bit out each word. “Or don’t you care?”
“I had no love for Captain Hartley, if that’s what you mean. He was spreading vicious lies about me. Daddy said so.” She shivered, remembering her father’s savage anger over the scandal. He might have killed her if Charlie hadn’t come in when he did. Phelia let her bottom lip slide out in a soft pout. “I never told him to hurt the fellow. You believe me, don’t you, my darling?”
“He put me in a damn awkward position with my superiors,” Peter said, through gritted teeth. “My reputation as an officer was put in question because of him. And that, I shall never forgive.”
She made a depreciative sound, waving her hand in the air. “Water under the bridge! Let it go. It was all hushed up. No one was the wiser. You worry too much. Henry’s rather obsessive and strange, but there’s no proof he’s a murderer. I’ll grant you, he went a bit mad after his sister died, but you can hardly blame him. She was all he had.”
“Yes, I gather he worshiped her.” Peter’s gaze swept over her then returned to his cup. “It isn’t healthy to let your whole life revolve around one person.”
Phelia smiled. “I think they call that love.”
Peter’s head snapped up, his brown eyes burning into hers. “Is that what he felt for you? I thought it was lust.”
“It was just a silly crush.” She gave a shrug. “He courted me for a time, but it never went further then that.” She tilted her head, giving him a wry smile. “How can you think he loved me when his attentions turned so quickly to Kay? Why, as soon as Charlie introduced them, he was after her like a hound.”
“Hardly a friendly gesture, under the circumstances.”
“It got rid of him, didn’t it? What does it matter? She’s married now.” Her mouth tightened. She grew hot with anger whenever she thought of Kay as the Duchess of Wallshire. That should have been her title, after all she’d done—after all she’d worked so hard for. Damn the little twit and her sweet simpering ways.
Well. She might have won the title. But she had yet to win his heart. That was where the real power lay. It was only a matter of time before the Duke lost interest in Kay.
***
Kay couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched Miska lead the big bay stallion up the lane.
She hastened back into the house, trembling with excitement.
Thornhill informed her the Duke was still breakfasting in the dining room.
“You’ll never believe it!” She burst into the room, gushing, “I have a surprise!”
Hunter looked over the rim of his coffee cup, took another sip, then set the cup back on the table. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for you. And it’s not really my surprise. It’s someone else’s.”
“Well, you can damn well send it back! I’m not buying another thing for that confounded ballroom. And this afternoon,” his tone turned dangerous. “We’re going to have a little talk about the kitchen. Mrs. Baghurst has been fussing over me all morning, which can only mean you’ve promised her far more than I’ve agreed to. Why are you laughing?”
“This isn’t about the ballroom or the kitchen, you stupid man.” She strode forward to take him by the hand and tug him out of his chair. “Come and see!”
“Oh, very well,” he grumbled, letting her pull him along. When they reached the foyer and he realized she meant to lead him outside, he said, “This better be good. My eggs are getting cold and there’s nothing I hate more than cold eggs. If Nash is involved in this, I’m firing him. I’ll finish the ballroom myself if I have to, I’ll… God’s blood! Miska!” Hunter’s mouth flapped wide. “Where did you find him?”
“He was the one to find me.” Miska beamed a broad smile. “We were just breaking camp and up he trotted, nudging for sugar in my pocket.”
Hunter came forward to run his hand down the horse’s flank. “He looks fit.”
“Nothing a good brushing won’t cure,” Miska grinned all the wider.
Kay came forward to stroke the bay’s velvety nose. The stallion gave a loud whicker. “You smell Storm on me don’t you, my prince. Well, you’ll have to be nicer if you want her to pay you much heed the next time you meet.”
“They won’t be meeting again for a while,” Hunter said sternly. “Not until he’s settled down and become familiar with his new home and master.”
Miska handed Hunter the reins. He held up his hand in farewell. “I’ll check on him when I return. By then we may know if he is a papa or not.”
Hunter led the stallion to the stable.
Kay followed behind him, not willing to give up. When he had the stallion in the stall she said. “If we don’t do it now, it might be too late.”
“The answer is no.” He began brushing the burrs from the stallion’s hind quarter. “I’m not going to take the chance of him bolting again. He needs to know this is his home before I risk taking him back to the Hall. That way he’ll return here if he decides to jump the fence again.”
She stepped up on a stool to lean over the stall with her chin resting on her hands. “If you just give Storm another chance, I know she’ll like him.”
“She had her chance. Look,” he gave a half laugh. “I’ve made up my mind so stop wheedling.”
“I’m not wheedling,” she said testily.
He laughed heartily at this. “Yes, you are. But it won’t do you any good, because we’re going to do this my way.”
Kay wasn’t deterred. She’d spent years perfecting her persuasive talents on the twins. “We could try once more and if she rejects him, you can bring him straight home.”
“No.”
“Ohhh! Why do I even talk to you!” she expelled with feeling. “You’re as stubborn as a bull.”
He stopped brushing, narrowing his gold flecked eyes on her. “You never give up, do you?”
She grinned. “Not when I want something badly enough. I’ve always wanted to raise thoroughbred Arabians. He’s perfect, don’t you see. I’ll sell the foal and we can split the profit.” Seeing his mouth flatten, she tried again. “If it’s a filly you can have all the profit, but if it’s a stallion I’ll buy him from you.”
His mouth twitched, threatening to smile. “If you don’t get out of here and stop pestering me, I’m going to turn you over my knee. Perhaps then you’ll understand the meaning of the word no.”
She jerked her chin up, giving him a haughty look. “Very well, we’ll talk about it later.”
“We’re through talking about it.”
“But…”
He started toward her with a determined look in his eye.
She bolted for the door, not daring to look back.
Rot!
He was the stubbornness man in the world!
Very well, if words wouldn’t sway him, she’d try another tact.
Perhaps, a little subtle charm would sway him.
***
“Are you going out, Your Grace?” Cora inquired, watching Kay twirl in front of the mirror. “If you be going somewhere, you’ll need a warm cloak, with so much skin showing. You wouldn’t want to be catching a chill.”
“We’re not going out. I just wanted to look my best this evening.” She turned to one side, considering the silvery blue silk gown. Cut scandalously low, it fell off her shoulders to accentuate the graceful curve of her neck below the pile of fair curls on her head. The long ti
ght sleeves hugged her arms to her wrists in tiny pleats. Hmmm… daring yet simple. Yes, it would definitely do.
When Hunter met her at the bottom of the stairs to lead her in to dinner, the heat in his eyes reassured her of her choice. Now if she could just come up with a plausible argument to change his mind.
She was so busy strategizing, she hardly touched a morsel on her plate. She chastised herself for spending so much time worrying over what to wear and not enough time coming up with a logical argument to plead her case. It smacked of something Phelia would do. This marriage was turning her into someone she didn’t like.
Nevertheless, she had to try. If the stallion took too long settling down, she’d miss the chance at using him for stud. When this was over she’d have no life save her horses. Somehow, someway, she had to make it work.
She gave an absent tug on her ear, then reached for her wine glass. How to begin… She chanced a look at him through the golden curtain of her lashes. He appeared so unapproachable, concentrating on his food as though it was his last supper. Coming down to dinner naked probably wouldn’t have gotten his attention. He’d hardly looked at her since he’d sat down to dinner.
“Give it up, Kay.”
Her heart gave a loud thump. “Give what up?”
He swiped the linen napkin across his lips, then dropped it beside his plate. “Trying to change my mind.”
“I haven’t said a word,” she said in the coolest of tones.
“You don’t have to. You’ve playing with your earlobe.” She dropped her hand to her lap. “And now you’re as pink as a rose.” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Such a curse to have fair skin. I can always tell what you’re thinking.”
“Ohhh really,” she said almost gritting her teeth. “Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”
His laughter boomed so loud, she feared it could be heard out into the hall. “Don’t worry, Gorgeous. I’ll honor my side of the bargain and see that your mare is bred.”
Bargain? Her cheeks flamed. Clearly he imagined their making love had been in payment for the services of his stud, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. But she wasn’t about to argue the point, better he believed that, than know the truth. That she couldn’t resist him—that the mere sight of him made her quiver from head to toe.
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