Taming the Duke

by Jackie Manning

  She immediately drew back in self-censure. She cared nothing for what that man thought.

  Half an hour later, Olivia’s golden mare cantered easily beside Alicia’s spirited filly. “Havencrest is one of the most beautiful estates I’ve ever seen,” Alicia said finally. Besides immaculately groomed riding paths, the views from the verdant, rolling countryside were breathtaking.

  “Havencrest has been in the family since the Tudors. When father died last year, Dalton inherited the estate along with the title.” Olivia gave her a sideways glance. “My poor brother. As though he’ll ever enjoy the titled responsibilities.”

  Alicia’s curiosity rose. “Why not, my lady?” So far, she had learned very little about Olivia’s brother. It was as though Olivia felt guarded to talk about him.

  “Dalton is much too unsettled to enjoy the country life. Only Bashshar’s injury keeps my brother here.”

  Of course, Alicia realized. How could she have forgotten what men of the ton were like. Gambling halls, racetracks and beautiful women. Olivia was right. Men like Dalton could never appreciate the pastoral beauty of Havencrest. Yet Dalton had seemed genuinely concerned about Bashshar. A thought struck her.

  “Lady Olivia, does your brother plan to race Bashshar?”

  Olivia raised a brow. “Bashshar’s sire was an Arabian racer, bred to our English Thoroughbred.” She paused. “My brother’s dream was to see Bashshar win the Newmarket Classic this year.” She sighed. “Now, there’s little chance that will happen.”

  So that was the reason Dalton was so desperate for Bashshar to recover. He was concerned with the money and prestige that came with owning a racing champion. The knowledge somehow deflated her spirits.

  “I believe Dalton said your family owns racing stock, Lady Alicia. Have you a racehorse entered in an upcoming heat?”

  Alicia smiled, thinking of Jupiter, her first racing colt to come from their stable. “My two-year-old has promise. I’m hoping to enter him in the Newmarket Classic this year as well.”

  Olivia looked impressed. “I wish you the best.” Before she could say more, the sound of galloping hooves hammered along the path. She looked up to see two riders galloping toward them. Tall, elegantly dressed, both men rode with the agility of experts. They gallantly brought their horses to the verge, allowing Alicia and Olivia the right away.

  “Lord Theodore Clitheridge and Lord Templestone,” Olivia greeted the men warmly before introducing Alicia to them.

  Lord Clitheridge doffed his hat, staring at Alicia with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. “My compliments to your father, Lady Alicia, for having such a lovely daughter.”

  Alicia smiled graciously, despite Lord Clitheridge’s veiled hint that he knew of her damaged reputation by mentioning that he knew her father. No doubt he obliged himself not to give her the cut direct out of deference to Lady Olivia. Alicia would rather show ignorance to his innuendo than let him see her dismay.

  The second man, Lord Templestone, was dressed in pink satin and lace at his neck and cuffs. Alicia thought he looked like an overstuffed boudoir pillow.

  Templestone tipped his hat. “I’ve never met your sire, Lady Alicia, but your beauty and grace do him much honor.”

  Alicia thanked him. Beside her, Olivia chatted with ease. If she was aware of the men’s intimation, she gave no sign. Although Alicia had yearned to ride, she should never have accepted Olivia’s invitation. Those who hadn’t known of her scandal would soon hear of it from those who knew. She forced a brave smile and met the men’s curious glances with confidence.

  “Sorry to hear of Dalton’s stallion’s accident,” Lord Templestone said to Olivia. “Bad thing, that.”

  “Bashshar is improving nicely,” Olivia answered.

  “Heard the horse took quite a beating.” Templestone brushed at the sleeve of his riding jacket.

  “You’re misinformed.” Olivia’s smile exuded charm, but her voice held an edge that wasn’t present before.

  Lord Clitheridge looked as if he were going to say something when his attention was diverted to a man and woman racing across the green, directly toward them.

  Alicia gazed at the riders. She felt a lump in her throat when she recognized Dalton, astride a pure white Arabian stallion. The lady riding beside him was perched sidesaddle atop a dun mare. Beneath the narrow-brimmed hat she wore, the woman’s gold hair shone like a newly minted coin. As they approached, Alicia noticed the lady peer at her with growing interest.

  “Sister, I see you’ve met Lady Alicia.” Dalton made no move to introduce Alicia to his beautiful riding companion.

  “Good morning, Elizabeth.” Olivia glanced toward Alicia. “Have you met Lady Alicia Spencer?” she asked Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth’s perfect features froze into a mask of distaste. With undisguised rancor, she turned to Dalton. “Shall we take the upper path?”

  Elizabeth’s failure to acknowledge her, especially when Olivia had directly asked Elizabeth a question, was a cruel cut directed at Alicia.

  Dalton’s expression gave no notice, but Alicia thought she saw a flinty look in his blue gaze. “You’ve picked a lively mount, Lady Alicia. Mischief enjoys testing a new rider. I warn you, she’s not as meek as she appears.”

  “Don’t worry, your grace. Neither am I.” Alicia refused to remain and subject herself to further abuse. She whirled the spirited filly around. “Excuse me, please,” she said to Olivia before she turned the mare in the direction of the stables.

  Almost immediately, the sound of a horse galloping behind her took her attention.

  “I’ll race you back,” Dalton called out to her.

  “Dalton!” Elizabeth’s voice charged with anger. “I’m your fiancée! You can’t leave me here!”

  Dalton’s fiancée? Surprise and disappointment rushed over Alicia. For an engaged man to leave his partner alone while he charged off with another woman was the deepest insult—grave enough to endanger the engagement.

  But what did she care? Dalton’s Arabian was almost beside her mare. She leaned forward, urging Mischief with encouragement. Moments later, the mare easily took the lead.

  Within seconds, Dalton’s powerful beast galloped beside her again, but the light-footed Mischief had a head to be first. Spirit was everything, Alicia knew. Large, powerful horses might set a burst of endurance at the start, but like humans, a winning spirit was the key to heroic accomplishments.

  Stately trees and low thickets rushed past in a green blur as they raced, their horses neck and neck. Surprised to hear her own peal of laughter amid the thundering hooves, she glanced a peek at Dalton.

  His jet riding jacket fit his broad shoulders to perfection. Black, shiny leather boots molded to his muscled legs like a second skin. His rich baritone laughter rang through her thoughts. She couldn’t remember when she felt so exhilarated.

  The stable’s long stone enclosure rose in the distance. Dalton’s horse inched alongside of Mischief, preparing to take the lead.

  Alicia longed to win; she had to win if she was going to beat down the feeling that she was an outcast. She would win!

  As they neared the west side of the stables, Dalton leaned over the saddle, easing into the lead. Just then, Alicia spotted the small cottage sitting to the left of the livery stable. If she were to veer to the right of the bungalow, then go behind the stables along the shorter path to the paddock entrance, she might beat Dalton, after all.

  When they were within a hundred yards of the stable, Alicia urged her mount to the left. When Dalton glanced up to see where she was going, it was too late for him to follow. Alicia raced Mischief toward the bungalow. Passing the stable, she brought her mount along the side of the paddock.

  Several grooms rushed toward her and helped her dismount. Her heart pounded in sweet satisfaction. A few seconds later, Dalton arrived on his stallion, and dismounted a few feet from her.

  His mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “You win, Lady Alicia.”

  “And a fair win it was
,” she returned, waiting for his chiding to follow. Instead, he said nothing as he tossed the reins to a waiting groom.

  Dalton would have won if she hadn’t veered from the path, and his gallantry wasn’t making her winning as satisfying as she’d hoped. It was almost as if he didn’t care who won.

  “Too bad we didn’t place a wager,” he offered finally, his heated gaze fixed on her. “I might have tried harder.”

  “Of course! How could I have forgotten that unless one bets, it’s not worth doing?” She glared at him. “I should be returning to Bashshar.”

  “Dressed in such lovely finery?”

  For the moment, she’d forgotten about her riding habit. A heat rose to her cheeks, and she wished he would leave. If only he had mentioned that he was engaged earlier.

  But why should he? Dalton considered her nothing more than a stable hand, a nursemaid for his horse. Oh, why had she let Olivia talk her into leaving the stable and pretending to be someone she could never be?

  Anger, frustration and something she didn’t recognize flamed within her. She was a lady, even if she had been snubbed by the ton. “Yes, I’ll change into something more suitable. If you’ll excuse me—”

  Dalton grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her to face him. “I don’t know what possessed Elizabeth to act the way she did. Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged.”

  “It’s none of my concern.” She brushed his hands from her shoulders.

  “There’s nothing between us, Alicia. I have no arrangement with Elizabeth. We’re both free to do what we want.”

  “I didn’t ask you for an explanation.” Alicia stepped back, but he moved with her.

  “We’re not engaged.” He took her hand.

  She felt his warmth, so close. Much too close. She felt suddenly dizzy. “Please, let me go.”

  “It’s important that you believe me.”

  “Oh, I see. Elizabeth is the liar and you’re telling me the truth. Is that it?” The paddock fencing seemed to spin around her. She felt warm and light-headed when he looked at her in such an intimate way.

  “I don’t want you to think worse of me than you already do.”

  “I suggest you have this conversation with your lady love, not with me.” Alicia tried to shake free of his hand, but he held her fast.

  “Alicia, please—”

  “Lady Alicia, if you please.” They faced each other, the awkward silence adding to the void between them. Finally, he released her. She gathered her skirts and rushed from the paddock.

  Her hands were still trembling when she dashed inside the cottage and closed the door. She leaned against the smooth wood, her heart pounding. She squeezed her eyes shut. The handsome face of Dalton Warfield, the duke of Wexton, flooded her mind. His passionate eyes burned into her soul.

  Dalton had looked so earnest, so trusting. Elizabeth and I aren’t engaged.

  Why should she care if Dalton was telling the truth? She opened her eyes to her own painful truth. She did care. God help her, but she wanted to believe him.

  Chapter Four

  Dalton gripped the reins of his mount with practiced control as he rode along the bridle path. Despite his outward appearance, he still felt shocked at Elizabeth for her behavior to Alicia. The sooner he found Elizabeth and settled the matter, once and for all, the sooner he could assure Alicia that she wouldn’t have to put up with such tactless conduct again.

  Elizabeth! What had provoked her to blurt out that she was his fiancée? In his mind, he could still see Alicia’s surprise, then accusing look before she schooled her features behind an emotionless mask. He winced inwardly. No doubt she learned to mask the pain in her life since her fall from grace.

  It was bad enough that Dalton’s bargain with Alicia had thrust her amid the ton, but the poor woman wasn’t used to Elizabeth’s jealousy. No telling what lengths she was willing to go to make Alicia’s life hell. Elizabeth’s conduct toward Alicia was cruel, and he wouldn’t permit such behavior at his estate.

  Through the shrubbery up ahead, Dalton saw a flash of blue, then Elizabeth rode into view. His jaw clenched as he reined back and waited for her.

  “I expect you came looking for me,” she said when she rode alongside him. Her voice held none of the anger that flashed from her eyes. When he said nothing to deny it, she raised her chin in haughty censure.

  “Dalton, I want an apology for your outrageous behavior this morning.”

  It took all of his control not to speak his mind. Instead, he remained silent, waiting for her to finish. She didn’t disappoint him.

  “Why is that scandalous woman here? Surely you must know that her kind aren’t fit to be around respectable people.”

  “Respectable people don’t lie about being engaged when they’re not, Elizabeth. There’ll be an apology, but it will be you who’ll apologize to Lady Alicia.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Why…she’s your mistress!” She spit the accusation. Her horse skittered uneasily.

  “Alicia is not my mistress. Although she is at Havencrest at my request.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “I usually find your attempts to shock the ton rather amusing, Dalton. But this time, you’ve gone too far.” Her mount took several steps to the side. “Although we haven’t officially announced our engagement, everyone knows that you and I will eventually marry. I know your mother expects the announcement before she leaves. I’ll not be put off any longer.”

  Dalton felt as though he were dealing with a spoiled, willful child. “Elizabeth, please listen. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

  Elizabeth’s green eyes glittered with anger, but she remained silent.

  Beneath her outrage, he knew she felt hurt. How much of her pain was due to the hope of marrying his brother Drake, then losing him in the war? he wondered. “My dear Elizabeth, I’ve never led you on.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I’m not ready for marriage. To you or anyone. Now let’s not speak of this again.”

  She glared at him, her pale skin mottled with blotches of red.

  “I expect you to apologize to Lady Alicia in front of my sister and myself when we have tea, tomorrow afternoon in the garden.”

  Elizabeth’s lips thinned. “Why are you doing this, Dalton? What possible pleasure do you receive—”

  “I’ll expect you to be there.” Without another word, Dalton tipped his hat, and wheeled his horse back across the fields. He didn’t have to look back to know that Elizabeth was cursing his name to hell and back.

  “Her grace will see you now, my lady.” The maid opened the door to the dowager duchess’s bedroom as Elizabeth sailed past.

  Mildred, the dowager duchess of Wexton glanced up from the writing correspondence spilled across her desk, her blue gaze taking in Elizabeth’s riding habit. “My dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Glancing above her spectacles, she added, “Ah, you’ve been riding, I see. Did Dalton accompany you?”

  Elizabeth curtsied, then stood, her shoulders hunched. “Your grace, it’s because of Dalton that I’m here. I’m so upset. I don’t know what I am to do.”

  Mildred’s smile faded and her thin, black brows arched with concern. With regal bearing, she rose from the desk and took a seat in the blue velvet chaise in front of the broad expanse of windows. “Come, sit down and tell me what troubles you.” She patted the satin cushion beside her.

  Elizabeth took the seat, then shook her head helplessly. “I—I really don’t know how to tell you.”

  She could hear the older woman’s loud sigh. “Just tell me what my son has done this time.”

  Elizabeth willed tears to her eyes. “Dalton has behaved in the most hurtful manner. He’s embarrassed me in front of your daughter, all because of that frightful creature, Alicia Spencer.”

  Mildred’s head lifted and she sat up straighter. “Who did you say?”

  “Alicia Spencer.” Elizabeth met the dowager’s questioning gaze. “Certainly you remember the disgrace when she and Justin Sykes were found alone together at
your London town house? It was the evening of the soiree that you held in my honor.”

  The older woman’s mouth clenched sharply. “You must be mistaken, child. There’s no way that woman could be here.”

  “Oh, but she is. She’s here as Dalton’s guest.”

  Mildred’s blue eyes narrowed.

  “I couldn’t believe it, myself,” Elizabeth said, “but there she was, riding with Lady Olivia, this morning. Obviously, she’s Dalton’s latest mistress, although he denied it, of course.”

  Mildred placed her hand at her throat. “Perhaps you only thought—”

  “If you don’t believe me, ask Lord Templestone.”

  The older woman stiffened. “Templestone knows of this?”

  Elizabeth sniffed, satisfied to see the reaction she wanted. “Yes, he and Lord Clitheridge.”

  Mildred rose unsteadily to her feet. “Go downstairs and wait for me in the drawing room, my dear. I need to be alone.”

  Elizabeth saw the dowager pale and a flicker of apprehension coursed through her. If Dalton’s mother became ill or died, then who would control Dalton? Without the dowager, Dalton would never marry her. “Your grace, shall I call your maid?”

  Mildred shook her head, then returned to her desk, lowering herself slowly into the chair. “I’m quite well, Elizabeth. I want a few minutes alone to think.” She closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temples. “I’ll be down shortly.”

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth turned to leave. Damn, this was not the reaction she had expected. She wanted to be included when the dowager made her plans. She left the room and quietly closed the door, then headed for the staircase.

  Ah, but she could wait. She had waited this long. A few more minutes was a small price to pay.

  For the next half hour, Elizabeth waited alone in the long, formal drawing room, trying not to feel dwarfed by the grandeur of the high-vaulted ceilings and magnificent artwork. Even as a child, when her mother had brought her to Havencrest to play with Olivia, Elizabeth had felt overwhelmed by the opulence of the room. Even then, she had hoped to marry Dalton and one day become the mistress of Havencrest. And she would. Dalton was a complicated man, but she knew how to bring him around. If only he would spend more time with her, she would use her feminine wiles to seduce him. Then he’d forget all about that worthless baggage, Alicia Spencer.