by Claudy Conn
“Damn your soul to perdition, ye blackguard,” his lordship seethed and hurriedly attempted to gain control. He wanted to land him a settler once and for all, and be done with Swit’s mouth for the night.
He controlled himself, for he couldn’t show his hand just yet. He needed to see this through and take charge. “Doona ye know, doona ye see that any clod can force a woman into his arms. It takes a man, a real man, to win a woman.”
Swit turned angry eyes on him. “What the devil do you mean by that? I’m as much man as the next and who says I will have to force her?”
“It is written all over yer face. Ye damn well know she can’t bear to look at ye. There is no other way ye can touch her, Jerry…only by force. She won’t have ye, and what’s more, ye know it,” his lordship returned dryly as he restrained himself and kept his fists at his side.
“Think I’m not man enough to seduce the chit? Are ye daft? She is just a green girl, all alone in the world. Any moonling could manage the young thing. What did ye think I meant to take her against her will in the coach?” He snorted. “I only want to soften her up for our next meeting.” He shrugged and added, “And if she won’t have me then… I might just force her. I can’t let a little bit of fluff get away with talking to me the way she did.”
“Not big enough to take a woman’s insult?” his lordship taunted. “I’d wager a man’s bet that given a month, ye couldn’t win her fairly to yer bed, let alone on the short remaining trip to Dover.”
“Fairly is it? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? Fairly?”
“Let’s widen yer scope, Jerry. I will allow ye all the usual measures save one, ye canna use force. Ye use any threat, physical or verbal with this woman and ye forfeit the wager then I’ll beat the bloody hell out of ye, I might even see ye dead. Are ye willing to risk all for a bit of payback?”
Jerry eyed him speculatively, “You think you can beat me to a pulp?”
“Let me ask ye, do ye think so?”
Swit laughed nervously, “And the wager?”
“High stakes, m’man, high stakes.”
“What then, one hundred guinea?” Swit’s breath came raggedly at the thought of so much money.
“Make it five,” his lordship returned the mock in his eyes.
“Easily!” snapped Swit. “But let us make this all the more interesting then. You enter the race my fine stud. She has to take one of us by the close of the month.”
His lordship frowned. He had introduced this wager to keep Jerry Swit at heel. He was absolutely certain that the American lovely would not be seduced by such a rum touch. He shouldn’t care, for that usually got a man into trouble. He rather liked Miss Radley’s spirit and the intriguing sensation of mystery that hung about the lass lured him in nearly as much as her beautiful face. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about her was wildly different. Something in the way she spoke, in the way her mind sorted a problem; something about the way she sparkled and glittered, got to him, but damn he couldn’t be involved with a woman now. He had other matters at hand and he didn’t want to seduce the lass, that hadn’t been part of his plan. He shrugged, “Not m’sort of game, Swit.”
“Seduction has never been mine either. Mayhap, I don’t have the time. Think I’ll just have her anyway I can get her.”
“What of the money? Doona ye want it?” his lordship retorted irritably. “Doona ye wish to win it and best me?”
This time Swit shrugged, “I have other ways of earning my blunt, and besting you by doing the courting thing for a month, well that isn’t my priority at the moment.” He eyed his lordship darkly. “Unless you and I joust, so to speak for the lady, if you play the game with me, fine, for a wager like that, I’m in, otherwise, I’ll have her when and how I want.”
Jerry’s ego was as large as his moronic brain, his lordship thought. “Done,” he returned. He would at least be able to keep the man at bay and get her safely to her establishment tonight, there was no way in bloody hell he would let Swit near her. No doubt, once in Dover, attending to his secretive business, Jerry would forget all about her.
* * *
Exerilla heard their loud voices outside the coach and tried not to glance their way. She heard her name mentioned and was certain they were arguing about her. The white witch in her was on edge, sure that Jerry Swit meant her harm. He had not liked the way she had treated him throughout their meal.
He had not liked that she would not speak to him when he addressed her and perhaps that had not been wise, for she knew what he was, but she couldn’t bear to look at him, let alone speak to him.
She didn’t like Jerry Swit and she didn’t quite trust Lord MacTorry. The hunky Scotsman made her jittery and off balance and she was too attracted to him. Throwing Sir Jacob into the mix made it a veritable stew of ingredients that just did not blend well together. She could have put on her witch’s hearing and listened in on their conversation. They were close enough, but just at that moment she was startled and jumped as the carriage door opened wide.
She had forgotten about Sir Jacob.
He stood at the open door and a shy smile crossed his pleasant face, “Are you comfortable, Miss Radley?”
“Yes, thank you. Sir Jacob, if you really are intent on accompanying the coach to Dover, I would so rather you kept me company in here.” she glanced toward Swit and MacTorry in silent explanation.
He understood at once, and his chivalry came to the fore. “With the greatest of pleasure,” he said as he climbed into the carriage and took the seat opposite Exerilla.
Jerry Swit shouted immediately, “Jacob! I say, what the devil do you think you are doing?”
Sir Jacob opened the window and stuck his head out to smirk at Swit, but did not bother to reply as he closed the window and situated himself. He patted the worn leather and said, “Not all that awful for a stagecoach. I had thought it would be worse.”
Exerilla laughed, but as his lordship rode up at that moment, bent down to the closed window and said with a chuckle, “Looks like Jerry and I are both in the cold, cut out by young Jake!”
She couldn’t help but smile at his sense of humor and sat back against the squabs as the coach slowly moved forward.
Earlier the coachman had begged her forgiveness and she had reassured him that she did not blame him for the harrowing ride at Jerry Swit’s hands. She had told him she was thankful that the ‘bloods’ as he called them, had finally tired of the sport and had decided only to follow the coach instead of drive it.
The countryside took on a subtle change as they left the rolling green downs and approached the coastline. Exerilla was scarcely able to do more than glance now and then, as Sir Jacob kept her entertained with a lively conversation.
She saw at once by the innocent look in his eyes that he loved his home in Dover.
“My family’s estate is called Cressly Towers,” he told her brightly. “It was once styled in Tudor fashion, but my forefathers each wanted to put their own stamp to the place. and the wings that my ancestors installed over the years have given a more modern feel to the original structure.
“I am amazed that you have been away so long. You seem to love your home,” she said curiously.
He looked at her oddly and agreed, “Yes, yes I do, but…well, life does take one in different directions. But I am pleased to return now.”
She saw his reluctance to expound on this, and let it go. He was easy to talk to on so many levels and fun to listen to as well. She was able to interject a question here and there and before they knew it, they found themselves diving into the beginnings of a comfortable friendship.
“So there you have it,” he said rubbing his knees. “Swit heard I was determined to head to the Towers and set it in order and took an interest. When he heard I had also inherited my father’s yacht, he could talk of nothing else.”
“What about his lordship? Was he too interested in viewing the Towers and your yacht?” she asked curiously.
He frowned, “No, I don’t think he was. Once he heard that Jerry was bound to accompany me, he said he would join us and make a party of it.” He shrugged, “I was glad for the company, but although I once enjoyed Swit’s company, I have found that Hunter is quite correct about Jerry Swit, but I am rather stuck with him at the moment.” He bit his lip as though wishing he could take back this last statement, so Exerilla let it slide.
“Once you are settled in, he probably won’t be such a bother,” she said encouragingly.
He shook his head, “I didn’t realize what a brute he actually is. Just thought he was a bit of wild fun, I should have known, but once I did, it was too late.” he looked away.
She didn’t want to pry, though something in his words made her think that something more was troubling him.
She decided to adopt a wait and see attitude and withheld any comment. She dearly wanted to say just what she thought of Jerry Swit, but she had done that already, so instead she told Jacob about her love of horses.
His face brightened and he said with some enthusiasm, “Indeed, my family was… up until my father’s death very involved. We bred some of the finest race horses in the south of England.”
“Oh wow, didn’t you wish to continue after you lost your father?”
His face fell, “I…was devastated for a time. We were close, and…it didn’t seem to matter after he was gone. I have come to see that he would be quite annoyed if he took a look down…” Jacob grinned, “And saw how I have neglected the family enterprise. Mean to put it back in order…for him and because I have missed it.”
“Sounds amazing,” she said her tone enthusiastic.
He beamed proudly, “My grandfather started it all. He loved racing, loved breeding winners and did it for the fun of it. My father saw that it could be profitable and began a business out of it. Men flocked from all over to buy a Cressly foal.” He sighed. “I should have been here overseeing, continuing what he started. He frowned. “But I got caught up with the London crowd, you see…and…it has all gone to ruin.”
“You were young and breaking loose. That’s normal, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
He touched her hand, “Thank you. That is very kind of you to say.”
“It is the truth. Life gives us choices and I know that we sometimes choose what we will later regret, but you can’t do what you aren’t ready to do until you are ready. It looks to me like you are now ready.”
“I love your American way of speaking. So direct,” he laughed. “And you are right. I thought my father would live forever. He was so big and strong, but he caught a chill, it was only a chill and then suddenly almost overnight he was gone.” I was so angry. I returned to London right after the funeral and tried to forget that he was no longer back home in Dover.”
“He is home,” she pointed at his chest. “Inside your heart and wherever you go.”
From that moment on, Exerilla realized they would be good friends. She shouldn’t be making these kinds of friendships in this century. It wasn’t fair to them and it wasn’t fair to her either. One day in the near future she would return to her home and vanish as though she had never been there. The people she allowed to get close would wonder for the rest of their lives what happened to her. It was too late, she and Jacob were already friends. She would figure out the rest at another time.
Horses dominated the conversation as X was an avid horsewoman and was curious as to the breed Jacob’s grandfather had used to produce such successful steeds.
Their mutual love of horses explored, they moved into the sport of fox hunting which Sir Jacob loved, he told her above all other sports.
Exerilla began telling him of the ‘drag hunts’ she had been on with the local ‘fox hunting club’ in her area back home.
“Drag hunts?” he looked perplexed.
“Yes, when they take the scent of the fox over fences and you follow the hounds working the scent?” Woops, she thought, perhaps they didn’t do that in this century.
He shook his head, “Americans. I don’t know anything about this drag hunting, but I will tell you, that you haven’t been fox hunting till you have done the Quorn.”
“Tough territory?” she asked.
He eyed her. “I love the way you have of phrasing things. Tough? I will tell you that at the end of the day hunting in the Quorn, one can scarcely move, indeed I have found myself quite done up after just such a day!” he answered her jovially and with such good cheer that she laughed.
“It sounds thrilling,” she told him smiling brightly. “Well as to that, no, I haven’t had a chance to hunt in the north as I have only just arrived in England a little over a week ago and the season was well over.”
“Do you Stag hunt in America?” he asked curiously.
“I do not, and I am told that it is a killer hunt, straight line, all out,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t like the kill at the end of the hunt, so I prefer a ‘drag hunt’ which works the hounds over a scent. Beautiful to watch them, lovely fences to take, and no death at the end.” She couldn’t remember when ‘drag hunts’ came into being, but she told herself, he would just chalk it up to her being American.
He frowned again but said, “Aye, watching the hounds work, is quite a wondrous thing.”
He seemed to hesitate before he asked, “Do you not have any siblings, a brother or a sister?”
“No, I am quite alone,” she answered happy that she could do so truthfully.
“And no beau?” he didn’t quite meet her eye.
She laughed, “No, no beau.” she answered without adding anything to this.
“That’s hard to believe. I would think you would have a string of them dangling.”
She laughed, “Very uncomfortable notion.”
He smiled, “Right, so are you off to relatives then?” he frowned and she could see he was concerned.
“Not… exactly. As it happens, my father and the late Squire of Kingston House, where I was a guest had been friends.” The lie nibbled at her mind and made her feel and look uneasy. She hurried on to add, “He ended his life in debt just a year ago, and they were unable to get word to me not to come. You see, they aren’t able to properly look after themselves, let alone a guest. They thought it best I go to relatives of theirs where I might make myself useful.”
“Ah, I see,” his eyes were shaded but she could see he did not look pleased with this piece of information.
She laughed, “Don’t look like that, Sir Jacob; I am sure it will be okay and it won’t be for so very long.”
“Okay?” he puzzled up at her.
“Oh, it means fine, it will be fine, just a term my… er…mother was wont to say to me.”
“Right, but what makes you think you won’t be stuck there for a long time, and where will here actually be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. One never knows where one will be from one moment to the next,” she said hoping to perplex him and leave it at that.
“Your very next moment is what I am wondering about. Where are you headed exactly?”
“Horwich House.”
“Horwich House? Egad, I am sorry for it.”
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
He retracted, “I am a blabbering fool. I don’t care much for the present squire, but that is only because of the way he manages his inheritance.” He blushed. “Here I am I calling the kettle black.”
She laughed, and then sighed. “Well, it will be a roof over my head until I can leave.”
“What does that mean? Until you can leave?”
“Well, one must find a way to improve one’s situation, right?” she countered hoping this would serve to satisfy him. Why did she always speak before thinking?
“Ah, I see,” he answered. It was evident to Exerilla that he didn’t, which was just fine. He decided to shrug this off and said, “You may be certain that we…I… will make this up to you by seeing you to your door. Miss Radley…”
She interrupted him
. “You may call me Exerilla, or X. My friends always call me X.”
“Ah…er…” He stumbled a bit and blushed. “Exerilla it is then. I want to assure you that I shall make it my business to stop by and pay you a morning call, if you would allow.”
Exerilla brightened. “Oh, I would like that.” She was really concerned about going into a household of strangers, but she liked Sir Jacob. She was making matters more complicated, but she had to live for the next few months.
He smiled fleetingly before his face took on a grim expression. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what you had to endure at Jerry’s hands. I am very ashamed we did not try to do more to stop him.”
“You probably couldn’t have, Sir Jacob. If I may remark, I don’t think he is the sort to make you a reliable friend. The sooner he is out of your life, the more comfortable I think you will be,” Exerilla said softly.
“You are quite right. I am heartily sorry that I was a party to the entire escapade,” he said seriously. “I do beg your pardon.”
“You have it, Sir Jacob,” she said brightly trying to fit into the mold of a woman of the times.
“As you have allowed me the liberty to address you as Exerilla, please do call me Jake,” he said shyly. “My father called me, Jake, much to my mother’s dismay. I find I miss hearing it.”
“Okay then, Jake,” she said with a smile and thought that just maybe she might get through the next few months reasonably well.
~ Six ~
HORWICH HOUSE HAD never, even in its heyday, been a grand estate. Its design was confused and its style erratic. Now with its lands left unmanaged it had fallen into sad disrepair; not from lack of funds, but from a lack of concern.