Candice Hern

by The Regency Rakes Trilogy

  Meg did not misunderstand the desire in his eyes. She had been around men long enough to recognize it for what it was. She had discovered at a young age that men could be lustful creatures—as randy as Thomhill stallions—and Meg had been ignoring such looks for years. But with this particular man, she wanted to believe it was real, to believe there was some real feeling behind the physical desire.

  But she knew him to be a rake, she reminded herself as she began to brush Bristol's tail. An accomplished womanizer must necessarily be very good at that sort of thing, at making a woman feel desirable. She grasped the end of roan's dock and held it out straight, then let down one gray lock at a time, brushing out the ends first and working up to the roots. It was what rakes did, after all—convince women to capitulate to their seduction. But she did not expect Sedge would ever go any further than seducing her with his eyes. He was a gentleman, after all. He would not make any sort of improper offer.

  But neither did she expect any more respectable offer from him. She could never forget that she was a six-foot tall, red- haired Amazon. And a hoyden to boot, to hear Gram tell it. Such a woman could not expect any serious interest from a man like Lord Sedgewick. Oh, he had been friendly and kind, and had shown a real interest in her work in the stables. But then, what man was not interested in horses? As much as she would love to believe otherwise, she knew there was nothing special in Sedge's feelings toward her.

  After finishing Bristol's grooming so that he gleamed like Birmingham silver from head to foot, Meg returned to the house to change her clothes and have a leisurely bath. This day, when Sedge was able to walk for the first time, she had no wish to go to him smelling of horse. She dressed with care, selecting a turquoise muslin dress with long, full sleeves and an open V-neck filled in with a cambric chemisette. Her maid styled Meg's hair in a variation of its usual low knot in the back, with more curls artfully arranged around her face.

  Meg finally dismissed the maid and surveyed herself in the cheval glass. Standing with her shoulders back and her head high, she was pleased with the overall effect of what she saw. She had long ago given up the foolishness of slouching and bending her knees in order to appear less tall. What was the point? Short of lopping off her legs at the knees, there was nothing she could do about it, after all. So she had grown to accept her height, even to be proud of it. She found, too, that when she walked tall and proud, others generally treated her with more respect.

  With one last adjustment to the chemisette, Meg strode from her room and down the hall to the guest chamber used by Sedge. She knocked softly.

  "Come in, Meg."

  She opened the door to find Sedge standing at the window, a huge smile splitting his face. He was dressed in a white cambric shirt, a blue pin-striped waistcoat, and doeskin breeches. He wore white stockings and a black kid slipper on his left foot. He wore no jacket or cravat, and his shirt was open at the neck. He looked incredibly handsome, and thoroughly masculine, and Meg found herself staring open-mouthed. She gathered her scattered wits and smiled in return.

  "Do you know how I have longed to look out this window?" he said. "Simply to look outside and see the world again. 'Tis a wonderful thing, Meg."

  She started to walk toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  "Do not move," he said. "Let me come to you."

  Meg felt a chill of apprehension as she assessed the distance between them. He would have to take a diagonal path from the window in the far corner to the door where she stood. They were about as far apart as they could be, and this was one of the largest bedchambers in the house, with its spacious sitting area at one end and the bed at the other.

  He reached for the wooden crutches propped against the window embrasure, lifted himself onto them, and somewhat shakily positioned himself to face Meg. "You are looking particularly beautiful today, my dear. A special incentive to make it across the room."

  Meg felt the heat of a blush color her cheeks, but ignored it as she watched Sedge swing his splinted right leg forward, keeping it bent and not allowing it to touch the ground. Leaning heavily on the crutches, he dragged his left foot forward.

  "Well done, my lord!" Meg beamed at him, though her heart constricted at the effort she saw in his furrowed brows and the tight line of his mouth.

  "'Tis only one step, my dear," he said in a slightly breathless voice. "At this rate, it may take all day to reach you."

  "It is but a beginning," she said. "You can do it, Sedge. Come to me."

  He gazed into her eyes for a moment with an expression that caused her breath to catch. But he quickly returned his concentration to the task of walking. He made slow progress, but seemed to gain confidence with each step. He began to maneuver the crutches with more assurance, and appeared to become more comfortable with using his left foot to push off and cover greater distance.

  As he neared her, he looked up briefly and Meg reached out her hand toward him. "Come on, Sedge," she said. "You are almost here."

  After what seemed an eternity, he finally stood directly in front of her, breathing heavily but flashing a broad, triumphant smile. She still reached out for him, and he allowed his left crutch to clatter noisily to the floor as he grasped her hand.

  "Oh, Sedge!" she said. "You did it! You did it. I am so proud of you."

  Leaning on one crutch, he held her hand tightly and pierced her with his bright blue eyes. Eyes almost level with her own. How extraordinary. Her heart pounded as his gaze held hers and his smile softened. She believed—she truly believed—that she detected something more than the need for support in the way he held on to her hand. A rush of warmth from his touch tingled all the way up her arm.

  Meg dropped her eyes to their joined hands. An image came to mind of Sedge lying feverish and unconscious while she bathed his hands. While she measured her own hand against his larger one. While she allowed their fingers to entwine, just as they did now.

  "Ah, Meg," he said finally, breaking the profound silence that had fallen between them. She raised her eyes to meet his. "It is a pleasure to see you at last from this vantage." He lifted her hand slowly toward his lips. "I knew we would see eye to eye," he whispered before placing a warm kiss on her fingertips.

  Chapter 10

  The stables were teeming with activity. Representatives for the Duke of York were scheduled to arrive later that day to view Thornhill's thoroughbreds. It would be a large feather in Terrence's cap if the duke were to add Thornhill horses to his own stable. Meg's brother had set every groom and stable boy to cleaning stalls and grooming horses. Even the lesser breeds must look in top form to insure the reputation of Thornhill quality.

  In the midst of all the excitement, Meg was taking care of her own horse. She did not want to leave Bristol to one of the grooms. She wanted to see to it herself that he looked and behaved perfectly, even though he was not for sale.

  She recognized the voice of Mr. Herriot as he hailed Terrence in a hearty greeting. Meg peeked over the top of the wooden stall door and saw the two gentlemen heading in her direction. She ducked quickly back inside the stall, hoping they would pass by without noticing her. She did not wish to engage in conversation with Sedge's cousin while she was clad in breeches. He had come upon her once before when she was in her working clothes, and he had looked at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. Despite the fact that he was Sedge's cousin and that Gram had been thoroughly charmed by him, Meg simply could not warm up to him. He generally wore a broad, congenial smile, and although it was similar to his cousin's engaging grin, it did not quite reach his eyes. And it was Sedge's eyes, after all, and the way they became a part of the whole expression, that made his smile so special.

  "Do you mind if we have a brief word in private, Sir Terrence?" His voice carried clearly, even amidst all the noise of stable activity.

  "If you do not mind using one of the empty stalls," Terrence replied. "I am afraid I cannot return to the house just now."

  "This will do just fine," Mr. Herriot
said, and Meg heard the hinge creak as the door to a nearby stall was opened.

  She peeked out again and just caught Mr. Herriot's profile as he followed Terrence into the stall across and one over from Bristol's. It was the stall used by Cartimandua, a bay mare who was currently being exercised in the main courtyard. Mr. Herriot's eyes had flicked in her direction for an instant. Meg thought he might have seen her, but she quickly ducked back inside the stall and could not be certain.

  "What did you wish to speak to me about, Herriot?" her brother asked, his clear voice carrying easily, as did all sound in these vaulted halls.

  Meg was situated to hear every word, but had no wish to eavesdrop. They would probably speak of stable business, Mr. Herriot no doubt wanting to bargain for a bit of prime horseflesh. Whenever anyone asked for a private word with Terrence, it was bound to be awkward. She had no desire to be a witness to what would likely be an embarrassing transaction— an offer well below value, a request for credit, an unequal trade, or some such thing. Poor Terrence was frequently faced with that sort of business proposition from gentlemen who claimed they absolutely must have such-and-such a horse, but were temporarily without funds.

  Meg never ceased to be amazed at how people seemed to forget that the Thornhill stables were a business. A very successful business, but a business nonetheless. If Terrence happened to raise sheep, no one would suggest that he give away the wool. But since he raised horses, many gentlemen who called themselves friends expected all sorts of special favors. The true gentleman, though, recognized the value of a horse and paid what it was worth.

  Meg ignored the conversation of the two gentlemen and returned to Bristol to continue with his grooming. Now, here was a horse whose value one day would be something to be reckoned with. She held his bent leg gently with one hand as she scrubbed his hoof with a stiff brush to remove dirt and straw.

  "This is a bit embarrassing, Sir Terrence, but it is about Miss Ashburton."

  Meg's head jerked up at her name. Me?

  "My sister?"

  "Yes," Mr. Herriot continued. "And my cousin. You see, it is just that I have noticed that the two of them spend a great deal of time together. Especially now that Sedge is up on crutches. I have often noticed him exploring the stables or other parts of Thornhill with Miss Ashburton at his side."

  "She is no doubt acting as his guide, Herriot. She knows this place as well as I do."

  "Of course, you are probably right. It is just that..." Mr. Herriot's voice trailed off, and Meg shamelessly scurried to the front of the stall, almost tripping over the grain tub in her haste. She did not want to miss this. "Oh, dash it all," he continued, "this is deuced awkward. He is my cousin, after all. Like a brother to me. But the fact is, Sedge is a trifle loose where women are concerned."

  "Indeed?"

  "I would hate to see your sister hurt, Sir Terrence. I... I simply thought I should warn you."

  No, you thought to warn me. He must have seen her after all. He had wanted her to overhear.

  "You believe your cousin to be trifling with my sister's affections?" her brother asked in a steely voice.

  "Not intentionally, no. Sedge is a gentleman, after all. It is just that they have spent so much time together, and I have once or twice caught a certain look between them. I just would not like for Miss Ashburton to get the wrong idea."

  "What wrong idea would that be?"

  Mr. Herriot sighed loudly. "I just hope she does not believe he is ... well, that he is courting her, that he means to make her an offer. He will not, Sir Terrence. I can assure you of that. Sedge enjoys the company of women. But he does not marry them. He will only make one sort of offer to a woman, and it is not of a proper nature, if you take my meaning."

  "Are you telling me Lord Sedgewick is likely to offer Meg a slip on the shoulder?"

  "Good God, no," Mr. Herriot replied in a horrified tone. "I only meant that neither you nor your sister should expect that he will make any kind of offer at all."

  A strained silence followed that pronouncement while Meg tried to calm her breathing. It was what she knew to be true, but to hear the words spoken so bluntly had the effect of being punched in the stomach. She was being made, by Mr. Herriot's deliberately overheard words, to face the truth.

  "I do not think you need worry about Meg," her brother said at last "Never in all her life has she shown an interest in any particular gentleman. And God knows she has met more than her share here at Thornhill." He chuckled softly. "Meg is not like other young women. As far as I can tell, she does not care for men in the usual way, and probably would not have the least notion how to go on if she did. She is fairly naive in that respect But I do not suppose that, at her age, she is likely to change. As you may have noticed, she traipses around Thornhill in breeches as though she were one of the stable hands. She has a much greater interest in horses than in romance, Herriot"

  Meg covered her mouth to stifle a groan. Is that how Terrence viewed her? A hoyden with no interest in the opposite sex?

  Not like other young women.

  "Why, in the last few weeks," her brother continued, "she has spoken more of her blue roan than she has of the viscount. She will yammer on for hours about that young horse. As far as Lord Sedgewick is concerned, I can only ever recall her commenting on the progress of his recovery."

  "But they do spend a great deal of time together," Mr. Herriot persisted.

  "I think she simply enjoys his company," Terrence said. "He is a very friendly, easygoing sort of fellow."

  "He is too charming by half," Mr. Herriot said with a laugh. "That is what concerns me. I would not want Miss Ashburton to misinterpret that engaging manner of his. It is just his way. He uses that smile to charm everyone he knows, from the sternest dowager to the most stiff-rumped old nob. I just don't want your sister to get her hopes up."

  Get my hopes up? What hopes? I have no hopes.

  Not like other young women.

  Terrence laughed. "I think the only one around here with the sort of hopes you are implying is my grandmother. I believe she has decided Lord Sedgewick is the right man for Meg simply because he is taller than she is." Meg could almost see her brother grinning and shaking his head in resignation. "Poor Gram. She only wants to be helpful, but she really does not understand. Even Meg has been embarrassed by Gram's obvious tactics. That may be one of the problems, actually. The old girl leaves Meg alone with the viscount at every opportunity."

  "Good God," Mr. Herriot exclaimed, "she is not trying to trap Sedge into some sort of compromising situation, is she?"

  Oh, Lord.

  Once again, Terrence laughed. "No, no, Herriot. Do not get yourself in a pucker. Gram only wants to leave them alone together so that Lord Sedgewick will get to know Meg better and, naturally, fall in love with her. The old girl's a romantic at heart, but she means no harm."

  "I hate to disillusion your sweet grandmother," Mr. Herriot said, "but Sedge ain't the falling-in-love sort."

  "I know," Terrence said. "But it is only Gram's notion, not Meg's. I do not believe you have to worry about any misunderstandings on Meg's part. But if you'd like, I will have a word with her."

  "It might be a good idea," Mr. Herriot said. "Just in case."

  Just in case what? In case I did not overhear every single word?

  "By the way, Herriot," Terrence said over the sound of the creaking hinge, "did you ever tell your cousin about his carriage? About the cut axle?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did," Mr. Herriot replied, his voice along with his footsteps moving away. "He will not accept that it was deliberate. He prefers to believe that it was some kind of accidental break that happened while at the inn at Hawstead. Some freak slip of an axe, or some such thing. He refuses to believe it may have been intentional. He has dismissed the whole incident as a simple accident."

  "Hmm," her brother said as they walked farther away from Bristol's stall. "And what do you think, Herriot?" They were out the stable door before Meg could hear a reply.<
br />
  But she was much more interested in what had been said before. She leaned up against Bristol and gently stroked his lower neck and withers. The one good thing she had learned was that her own infatuation with Sedge was not apparent to Terrence. Of course, he did not believe she was capable of the same feelings and desires as other women. He probably did not think of her as a woman at all. Besides, he had always told her that her every thought or emotion was written clearly on her face. He teased her that she should never take up gambling, for there was no way she could ever bluff anyone. And her father had always said she was a terrible liar. That blasted fair skin!

  So, if Terrence did not know she was head over heels in love with Sedge, then she must have at last learned to school her features. "Have I done that, Bristol?" she murmured as she continued to stroke the horse's neck. "Are you able to read my heart in my face?" Bristol shook his head and snorted, his ears pricking forward in interest. "Well, if you can, then perhaps Terrence simply is not looking anymore. Or perhaps he just does not recognize such an unexpected emotion in his heartless hoyden of a sister."

  Bristol snorted again, and Meg reached up to stroke his ears, blinking furiously to clear her suddenly watery vision.

  As for what she had learned about Sedge, it was nothing she had not already known in her heart. And though she could no longer control her feelings for him, she had never really had any expectations of an offer from him. Despite what Mr. Herriot may think, she had known all along that there was no hope for her as far as Sedge was concerned. His cousin's words only hardened her resolve against any such hopes.

  It galled her that Mr. Herriot must think her such a green girl. Hearing his words—which she had no doubt she was meant to hear, and which rankled, despite the kindness and concern she knew to be behind them—made her realize how her actions might be misconstrued by others. Perhaps even by Sedge? It was true that she spent a great deal of time with him. She knew he would leave Thornhill soon enough, and she only wanted to be with him as much as possible.