A muscle tightened in Dalton’s jaw. “You know that’s not what I meant. Don’t try to make this appear as though I’m forcing you.” He raised a black brow. “Are you saying that you wish to back out of our marriage agreement?”
She eyed him warily. Oh, why did she have to let her temper get the better of her? Why did she have to respond to him with such emotion? Why couldn’t she just have stood, like a post, and let him kiss her?
Because she had enjoyed kissing him, and he knew she did. She pushed back her shoulders. “As you well know, I’m financially responsible for my family. And as you also know, I have no choice but to marry you. Of course I won’t break our contract.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest. The corner of his mouth lifted into an infectious grin. “Oh, you poor, little maid. How tortured you must be for having to marry one of the most wealthy, sought after, handsome dukes in England.”
She couldn’t keep her face straight. “Don’t forget pompous, overbearing, arrogant, stubborn, and—”
“Yes, and don’t you forget it.” His grin deepened, showing a dimple in his cheek.
Her small chin lifted, and she straightened her shoulders. “I must return to my duties,” she said, pacing back to Bashshar without giving Dalton the courtesy of name or title. “
Dalton chuckled, watching the feisty young woman who would become the new duchess of Wexton by week’s end. He never realized before how much he was going to relish being her husband.
Dalton found Justin Sykes in the billiard room, practicing a two-cushion bank shot.
Justin paused, midshot, then looked up as Dalton strolled into the room. “What’s the matter, ol’ chap? You look like you’ve just been challenged to a duel.”
“Nothing quite so dramatic, Justin.” He strode to the sideboard and poured himself a whiskey. “Care for one?”
“No. I haven’t had a drink since last night. All the fresh, country air, I imagine. Being sober is rather a strange feeling, I must say.” He bent over the table, cue in hand. The crack of ivory sounded after he followed through on the shot, the white ball banked off two cushions, banking off the opposite white ball, then into the red ball.
“Your game is improving,” Dalton said, picking out a cue from the rack inside the walnut cabinet. He studied the table as he chalked the cue tip. “Care to place a wager?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. I don’t want you taking advantage of my newfound sobriety.” He shot Dalton a short look. “Or taking out on me whatever has your dander up.” Justin chuckled as he picked up the small leather resin bag and dusted his hands.
“Nothing has my dander up,” Dalton charged, duplicating the shot Justin had just made.
Justin let out a low whistle as he watched the cue ball roll across the table. “Maybe it’s more than your dander that’s up,” he said, grinning wickedly. “What has the lovely Lady Alicia done? Or is it What she hasn’t done that has you so in a tither?”
“I’m not in a tither.”
Justin chuckled. “Don’t deny it, old chap. I know all of the symptoms.”
“Women. I’ll never understand them. But I thought Alicia was different from the others.”
“Mistake number one, you fool.”
Dalton glared at Justin, who noisily chalked his cue. “Alicia should be different. She’s more comfortable in a horse stable than a ballroom. She’s much too intelligent to indulge in the boring gossip that keeps most of the ton in such a flutter, and Alicia is as comfortable in leather breeches as I am.”
Justin raised a brow. “Sounds like you’re made for each other. So what’s the problem?”
Dalton paused over his next shot. He wasn’t certain there was a problem. All he knew was that she could turn his world upside down with so little as one glance of those large, soft brown eyes. “When we’re alone together, she makes me feel as though I’m…I’m some sort of…ogre.”
“I thought so!” Justin slapped his hand on his thigh. “You’ve asked her to go to bed with you.”
Dalton scowled. “I have not,” he said indignantly. “Well, not in so many words—”
“That’s why I have no use for maidens.” Justin waved his hand dismissively and leaned against his cue. “They behave for the first time as though they’re being sacrificed. Once you bed Lady Alicia, she’ll realize what a valuable token she has to barter with. Then your marital woes will truly begin, old friend.”
Dalton cracked the white ball, ricocheting it across the green baize. “She’s agreed to give me an heir, and then once the child is born, she is free to do as she pleases. But I think she wants something more from me, but I can’t be certain.” Dalton took two steps around the table, leaned and shot again. The cue ball almost jumped off the table. “Damned fool notion—love.”
Justin grinned. “Olivia seems to believe in love, and you sound like you’re up to your neck in it, ol’ chap.”
Dalton glowered back at him. “Olivia has been protected by the family all her life,” Dalton said quickly. “Luckily, she married a man who continues to patronize her romantic dreams.”
“Why can’t you do the same with Alicia?”
“Because I don’t believe in perpetuating lies.” Dalton finished his tenth billiard, then chalked the tip of his cue.
“I have eyes in my head, ol’ chap. I see the way you look at her. I think you’re afraid.” His mouth twitched. “Good God, you’ve fallen head over heels in love with her, and you don’t know how to handle it.”
Dalton glared at him from over his cue stick. “Don’t take me for a simpleton, Sykes! Love only makes men weak and women foolish.” He turned to walk around the table when he noticed Alicia standing in the doorway. Her face was a stony mask.
Justin’s grin faded and he straightened, holding on to the cue stick. He cleared his throat in the lengthening silence.
Alicia glanced from Justin’s embarrassed face to Dalton. “Olivia said you might be here, Dalton.” Her voice couldn’t hide the hurt in her face. “A man is waiting for you in the drawing room. He’s just come from London with a message he says is of grave importance.” She turned and rushed down the hallway.
“Alicia, wait!” Dalton’s long strides quickly caught up with her. “Please hear what I have to say.” He swung her around.
She jerked her head away. “I heard what you said, Dalton. You made yourself perfectly clear.”
“I was frustrated, I—”
“I understand your feelings, and I agree with you.” Her eyes widened as he looked at her in surprise. “I’m not a silly flibbertigibbet who believes in love. There’s no need to explain yourself to me.”
“I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Alicia.” Dalton drew back and studied her. From the guarded look on her face, he knew she had been hurt by his foolish comments to Justin. Damn, why did he feel so defensive when it came to admitting that he cared for her? Justin knew him well enough to see through him. But Alicia?
She straightened. “The gentleman from London is still waiting for you. And I must be getting back to my letter writing. Should I tell him you’ll be along shortly?”
“Never mind, I’ll go to him presently.”
“Very well.” Alicia brushed off her skirts and made a hasty retreat down the hall.
Dalton felt like he had just whipped a puppy. Why did he have this need to cradle her in his arms and keep her safe? Instead, he behaved like someone he didn’t know.
Love was a weakness, which created chaos, that was why. Love had blinded his father to his wife’s infidelities. Dalton vowed never to let emotions destroy him so. He would put further carnal thoughts of Alicia from his mind. Or try to, anyway.
A few minutes later, Dalton threw open the door to the drawing room and strode inside. Inspector Humphrey Leary, the private inspector from Bow Street stood up from his seat at the fireside chair and turned to him. “Good evening, your grace.”
“Leary, this is a surprise.” Dalton noticed the crease of worry between the man’
s eyebrows. “Have you found any leads?”
The solicitor’s dour features tightened with concern. “We’ve begun our inquiries, sir. What we’ve found is interesting.”
Dalton felt an uneasy thread of trouble. “Can’t be as bad as you look,” he said with a slight smile. Leary came with excellent credentials, but Dalton had heard that the man was a stickler for detail. “Sit down. I’ll fix you a drink.” Dalton strode to the sideboard and splashed whiskey into two glasses, then handed one to the older man.
Leary took the drink. When both men were comfortably seated, he opened his leather portfolio and shuffled through a sheaf of papers. “I’ve just received this report from my most trusted runner.” He handed Dalton the letter. “Everything is in the report, sir.”
Dalton sipped his drink and glanced over the findings. “Lord Templestone?” He glanced up. “He’s not family. Why would he be included in this report?
Leary straightened in his chair. “Forgive me, your grace, but he has, shall we say…been in close company with your mother, the dowager duchess.”
Dalton flinched inwardly at the carefully worded phrase that suggested that his mother and Templestone had shared quarters. “Tell me what you found out.”
“Templestone has been gambling heavily and losing, yet he appears to be able to cover his debts.”
Dalton’s eyes met Leary’s. “In the past, he’s married rich women. He’s a widower again, and he spends money as he pleases.”
“True, his marriages have garnered him large land holdings, but not cash, sir.”
Although Dalton hated the rumor mill, he was aware of Templestone’s mysterious past. “Since he’s one of my mother’s friends, perhaps you should continue investigating him.”
“Of course, sir.” Leary jotted a note in a book. “You also wanted us to check on everyone’s alibi during the shooting.”
Dalton nodded, scanning the report. “Where was Templestone?”
The inspector withdrew a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped his shiny forehead. “With your mother, Sir.”
Dalton hid his surprise. “I see.” His tone was as casual as a man’s asking about the weather.
The inspector nodded. “There’s no mistake. I can read the details to you if—”
“No, that’s not necessary.” Dalton strode to the window, unsettled by the new information. His mother was still a handsome woman at five and fifty. With the generous allowance he gave her, she was wealthier than most widows. Did she fancy herself in love? He couldn’t quite believe it.
“There is more news, sir.”
Dalton clenched the glass in his hand and waited.
“Your brother-in-law has been borrowing large sums of money of late.” The inspector handed a paper to Dalton.
“You mean Olivia’s husband, Robert Seabrook?” Dalton grabbed the paper from Leary’s hand. “If my sister had needed money, she would have come to me.” Dalton glanced at the figures. “Damn, he’s borrowed almost three thousand pounds.” He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “Do you know why Robert needed money?”
“Not yet, but I have a man pursuing the situation. These matters must be handled delicately and can’t be rushed.”
Dalton shrugged. “Anything else, Leary?”
“One minor thing, your grace, but it might mean something. A wager was recently placed in the betting book at White’s.” His bushy eyebrows lifted. “Templestone placed a large wager on Desert Prince, favored to come in first at Newmarket this fall.”
“I’d wager that myself, now that Bashshar can’t compete,” Dalton said bitterly. “But none of this gives us any clue to who might have shot Bashshar.”
“Not yet, but detective work takes time. First, we must gather the facts. Each lead pulls us in a different direction. With time, a pattern will develop. You must have faith, as I do. We’ll soon find out who shot at you.”
“My horse was shot,” Dalton corrected. “Not I.”
“Yes, but we can’t rule out that whoever shot Bashshar might have meant you as the target. Your life could be in danger.”
“Nonsense. More than likely the shooter was a poacher.”
“Our findings don’t point to a poacher, sir.”
Dalton was losing patience. “Thank you, Leary. I appreciate your concern, but I’m perfectly safe at Havencrest.”
The inspector drained his glass and rose to his feet. “You should be careful, your grace.” He placed the empty goblet on the sideboard. “Men in powerful positions can have enemies.” Leary paused a moment before he bowed, then left the room.
Dalton leaned back and clamped his hands behind his head. Was someone trying to harm him? Or was it Bashshar, who had been a serious racing contender for the Newmarket Classic Cup?
And what of Robert? He had always appeared the solid sort, not a gambler. Why would he need money? Had he placed a large wager on Desert Prince, now that Bashshar was unable to run?
Nonsense. Robert had many friends within the Jockey Club, but he wasn’t the sporting kind, nor was he deceitful. But another thought crossed Dalton’s mind. If someone wanted to be certain Desert Prince won at Newcastle, would Bashshar be in greater danger if the stallion was cured enough to race?
Everyone knew Alicia was the key to curing Bashshar. Would Alicia now be in danger? The idea sent a chill down his spine.
He walked to the sideboard and laid down his whiskey glass. If Alicia’s life was in danger, would he be able to protect her?
Chapter Ten
Alicia knocked on the door of the children’s nursery on the third floor where Olivia waited. The manor house was a tangle of corridors where a person might become lost forever, she mused, as the groom, who had led the way for her, retreated down the hall.
“Come and join us,” Olivia said.
Alicia opened the door and stepped inside. Leaning against the back of an overstuffed chaise, Olivia held her infant son. A tiny pink face cradled with blond fuzz peeked from beneath a white frilly blanket. “Little Drake has just been fed and I asked Sarah to let him stay up a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry I’m late, but I found myself lost amid a tangle of corridors. Thankfully, one of the hall grooms rescued me.”
Olivia laughed. “I was born in this house and I still get lost from time to time,” she said. “I’m glad that Drake isn’t fussing with his new tooth. He cried all morning.”
Alicia took a seat beside Olivia and gazed at the infant. “What a beautiful child,” she said, brushing her fingertips across the baby’s downy head. “I’m most pleased to see you, Master Drake.”
“Everyone says the baby looks like Robert,” Olivia said proudly. She stroked his creamy cheek. “But I think he looks like my father. Drake has the same Warfield nose and chin.” She turned to Alicia and said wistfully, “I wish you could have known our father. He was a warm, gentle man. Dalton is very much like him, that is, when Dalton comes out of that hard shell he enjoys wearing.” She laughed. “Don’t ever tell him I said so.”
Alicia grinned. “I promise.” How she wanted to ask Olivia so many questions about Dalton, but she didn’t feel this was the time. “Your son is a handsome lad, to be sure,” she said instead.
Olivia’s face held a radiant glow as she gazed upon the cooing bundle in her arms. “In another year, you might be sitting here, holding your own baby.” She looked up brightly. “Wouldn’t that be grand? I could keep you company while little Drake rocks on old Cobby.”
Alicia glanced up. “Old Cobby?”
Olivia smiled and tipped her head toward the huge wooden hobbyhorse in the corner. “Old Cobby has rocked each of us over many childhood miles,” she said fondly. “And now Cobby waits patiently for the next generation of Warfields.”
A raw tumble of anxiety shot through Alicia. Agreeing to marry Dalton was one thing, but to see Olivia with little Drake brought home the full scope of what that promise meant. She didn’t know what to say.
Olivia chuckled. “My dear Ali
cia, my brother isn’t a monster. Beneath that unfeeling facade he loves to wear is a good man who is very much in love with you.”
Surprised, Alicia regarded her quizzically for a moment. “You think Dalton is in love with me?”
Olivia touched her hand and Alicia could sense her compassion. “I would never say such a thing if I didn’t believe it, Alicia.”
Dalton’s words came back to haunt her. Love only makes men weak and women foolish. “I’ve heard Dalton say he doesn’t believe in love.”
“Men say such things because they’re afraid of love. I know my brother, I see how he behaves when you’re near. But it’s how he behaves when you’re not around that tells me more.”
“What do you mean, Olivia?” She wished she wasn’t so curious, but she had to know.
Olivia’s smile lit her face. “He’s always talking about you, or he’s asking where you are.” She leaned back, a satisfied look on her face. “I’ve waited a long time to see my big brother fall in love. Now that he has, I couldn’t be happier.”
Alicia remained silent, not trusting her voice. How she yearned for Dalton to love her, and the fact made her all the more frightened. She averted her gaze to the shelves of dolls covering the wall beside the window.
Olivia sighed. “I am sorry if I offended you—”
“Not at all, Olivia. It’s only…” But how could she explain to Olivia that marriage to Dalton would thrust her into a hostile world, with people she couldn’t trust? She needed the peace and simplicity of a rural life. A life with a man who loved her and would welcome her love.
Olivia rose and pulled the bell cord by the door. “I’ll ring for Sarah to put Drake down for his nap. Then we can get down to the business of planning your wedding.”
Alicia settled back against an overstuffed chair. “I received a letter from my mother this morning. They would have been here by now, except I asked them to wait until your mother’s houseguests left.” She felt a warm blush at the white lie. Alicia’s mother had insisted they wait until those people, meaning Dalton’s mother and her friends, had left.
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