“She’s determined and intelligent? You best rethink your plans, James,” Brent warned.
“You had said she’s guarded about her past,” Anthony said. “You wanted Investigator Papazian to look into the matter. Has the man unearthed anything?”
“I have an appointment with the man after the fair. His note said there were items to discuss,” James said.
“I’d be curious as to what a country widow could be hiding,” Anthony said.
James drew his lips in thoughtfully. “So am I.”
Chapter 13
The morning of the fair dawned bright and sunny. Bella stood on the lawn, looking forward to watching the wide array of games that she and the staff had arranged at the duke’s request.
A large washtub filled with water, which would later be used to bob for apples, sat on the far side of the lawn. Four empty wheelbarrows stood ready for races; there would also be footraces, sack races, and even a race to climb a pole greased with duck fat. A table had been set up outside, and Mrs. O’Brien had outdone herself with a wide array of sweet rolls and puddings. Pitchers of lemonade were poised to quench the thirst of the participants of the games.
Harriet and the wives of the tenant farmers sat beneath a large oak conversing; others, servants and the male farmers, prepared to join the games. One of the footmen leaned against the refreshment table, playing a Scottish tune on a handmade flute.
A burst of laughter and a flash of white at the corner of her eye drew Bella’s attention.
A shuttlecock whirled through the air and landed at Bobby’s feet. “I’ll never learn!” Bobby shouted, waving his small racket in the air.
“Let me show you, lad,” James said as he loped over to the boy and demonstrated how to swing his battledore to hit the elusive shuttlecock.
Bella’s gaze turned to James. He was once again dressed casually in his shirt and breeches, and it occurred to her that other than when he had first arrived in his crested carriage, he rarely wore formal attire. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a sprinkling of hair at the V of his open collar. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned forward to patiently instruct Bobby in the fine art of how to hit a shuttlecock with the small racket.
After several attempts, Bobby threw the shuttlecock high in the air and successfully hit it with his racket. The boy jumped up and down with glee, and James’s blue eyes twinkled with delight.
Bella’s heart did a little jump. She couldn’t help but acknowledge the duke was a finely made man. He had an innately captivating presence, and as that was combined with his devastatingly good looks, she understood why many society women found him deliciously appealing.
Three more boys ran up to James, and she recognized them as the children of the tenant farmers. James handed each of them rackets and proceeded to teach them how to play. The fact that the children batted at the shuttlecocks without the slightest hint of talent did not dissuade James in the least. He was easygoing and good-natured, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy himself.
She should have known he would be good with children. Over the course of the week, every single one of her negative beliefs about the Duke of Blackwood had been shattered.
He wasn’t a typical aristocrat, born into a life of leisure and luxury. To the contrary, he had been raised to believe he was a bastard and had been treated abominably by his own family, only to overcome great odds and become a successful, self-made man. He was a selfish and greedy barrister, she had thought, yet he’d agreed to build a new cottage for Wyndmoor’s tenants and repair their roofs with funds from his own pocket. He had taken an illegitimate boy off the streets and under his wing and had employed him. But James hadn’t stopped there; he tutored the boy to follow in his footsteps in the hope that one day he would become a barrister.
Most shocking of all, he hadn’t mocked her when she had told him of her writing ambitions, but had praised her efforts, going so far as to call her courageous for submitting her work; and he had celebrated alongside her when she had sold her first piece. After Roger, never had she suspected a man could be supportive of her writing.
The duke’s friends arrived, their arms full of sporting equipment, and joined the festivities. A game of lawn bowls started on the far patch of lawn. Bella watched as Brent Stone and Anthony Stevens paired off against the duke and Jack Harding.
Each team received its own color bowls, brown or yellow, and the smaller white “jack” was thrown. After their first bowl, Brent and Jack went for their respective teams, their bowls stopping close to each other. Anthony went next, his brown bowl just grazing the jack and resting right beside it. At James’s turn, he knocked his opponent’s bowl away from the jack to score a point. Jack cheered and slapped James on the back. Anthony and Brent scowled, then laughed and issued cocky challenges full of male bravado as they retrieved their bowls to continue the game.
Bella’s father had once said that one could discern much about a man’s character by the type of friends he kept. The duke’s friends, even the daunting and intimidating Anthony Stevens, were respectful toward her. All were successful barristers and loyal to each other. Only Jack Harding was married, and if the choice of his spouse reflected upon his character, then he was an upstanding man to have won the heart of the delightful Lady Evelyn.
Evelyn joined Bella on the lawn. “What a wonderful spring day for us to enjoy.”
Bella looked up at the cloudless sky. Sun bathed the lawn with dazzling light and warmth. It was as if James had ordered the pleasant weather and Mother Nature had gladly obliged.
Shouts from the lawn sounded, and the women turned to see that two of the yellow bowls were closest to the white jack.
“Look! Jack and the duke earned two more points!” Evelyn cried out, cheering enthusiastically for her husband.
An odd twinge of jealousy stirred inside Bella. Lady Evelyn truly adores her husband and her happiness is clearly written on her face for all to see.
Bella had once been a naïve young woman who believed in the fairytale of the knight in shining armor proclaiming undying love for his lady. Then Bella had the misfortune of marrying Roger Sinclair, and her illusions had crumbled around her like a poorly built cottage during a windstorm. She had never desired to remarry after Roger; she had no longer believed in a perfect union between a man and a woman. But gazing at Evelyn Harding, she realized perhaps she was wrong....
The men shouted as a goal was made, and Bella’s attention returned to the game. The truth was she was mesmerized by this fun-loving side of James. His intelligent eyes shone with pleasure, and he encouraged the servants to join in on the game. He had once confessed that Wyndmoor Manor was where he could be himself, where he truly felt like the duke’s son, and she could see it now in his relaxed demeanor.
An instant’s squeezing guilt pierced her chest. She was the only obstacle in his way... .
She made to turn when he spotted her.
“Bella, you are just the person I was looking for.” He walked toward her and extended his hand. “We need another player for the leg races.”
She placed her hand in his. “Leg races?”
“It’s simple,” he said, holding up a shoelace. “We tie one leg of each partner together and race to the finish line. Evelyn will surely partner with her husband, leaving me the odd man out. What do you say?”
Bella was caught off guard by his cheery smile. “I’m not very good at physical sports. Perhaps another partner will do you justice—”
“Nonsense.”
“Do join us, Bella,” Evelyn encouraged. “It will be such fun.”
Before Bella could think of another response, James knelt and lifted the hem of her skirt a demure inch. He proceeded to wrap the shoelace around her ankle, securing it to his own. Guiding her to a chalked line in the grass, they lined up beside four other pairs of contestants.
Coates waved a flag and they were off.
Three steps in to the race, Jack and Evelyn fell to their rig
ht and a pair of servants stumbled to their left. Bella giggled as they struggled to find a rhythm to their steps. James’s arm went around her waist, and his warmth enveloped her. She was conscious of the occasional jolt of his muscular thigh brushing her hip, and her skin prickled pleasurably. She was filled with a strange excitement as the thrill of competition raced through her, and they hobbled closer to the finish line.
“We’re almost there!” he shouted.
They stumbled through the finish line and fell together, Bella somehow landing on top of James.
“Oh!” she cried out.
Every inch of his body was solid beneath hers. She was aware of his strength and the heat of his flesh. Her heart jolted, and her breasts tingled against the fabric of her dress. Their position was horribly improper, but he was laughing, a rich pleasant sound. She felt the rumbling of his chest beneath hers, and with a giddy sense of pleasure, she too broke into laughter.
He rose awkwardly, helped her to her feet, and untied the lacing at their ankles.
“We won!” She smiled up at him.
He reached out to pluck a blade of grass from her hair. “Indeed. I had no doubt.”
His gaze was soft as a caress, and she struggled to restrain the dizzying current racing through her. A sensuous light passed between them, like a warm, topical breeze across her skin.
Bobby’s voice broke the moment. “Time to climb the greased pole!”
The lad’s face flushed with eagerness, and Bella glanced up at James. “You should know the ladies are placing wagers on which man will reach the top first, Your Grace.”
James grinned. “I’m a sure win.” He raised her hand and brushed his lips across her fingers. She inhaled sharply, a rush of warmth flashing over her. He lifted his head, his compelling blue eyes studying her. “Thank you for partnering with me, Bella.”
He turned on his heel and jogged to the pole with Bobby by his side. Bella stared at his back, her heart thumping uncomfortably. She was weakening toward him. Nothing had changed regarding their property battle, and yet it was pointless to deny her attraction to him. Her growing feelings had nothing to do with logic or reason.
It was madness on her part, pure madness.
She stood as if in a daze and waited until her quickened pulse returned to normal, then wandered to the refreshment table. Picking up an empty pitcher, she decided to return to the house. She needed privacy, time alone to think and calm her nerves. She wove her way through the house and to the kitchen and was refilling the pitcher with fresh lemonade when the scrape of footsteps on the tiles made her turn.
Harriet entered the kitchen. “You should be outside enjoying yourself.”
“I saw no need to bother the servants,” Bella said, “and the children need more lemonade.”
Harriet’s shrewd eyes studied Bella’s face. “You are avoiding him.”
Bella’s chin rose. “I am not.” She realized as soon as the words left her lips that inquiring about whom Harriet referred to had never occurred to her.
“The duke is not hiding, but seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself,” Harriet said.
Bella experienced a sudden bitterness and frustration. As the days passed, James seemed to be enjoying time with his friends and the country life, while she was consumed with thoughts of the property dispute—or worse—thoughts of him.
“He must be confident in his victory over me. Why else do you think he is so at ease?” Bella said.
“You seek my opinion?” Harriet asked.
“I do.”
Harriet stepped close to touch Bella’s sleeve. “My opinion is that Blackwood is a handsome and charming man who is shrewdly intelligent and who wields the power of a dukedom. He’s accustomed to women swaying at his feet and has never had to work hard to seduce one into his arms. The combination of looks and power make him a worthy opponent, but what makes him a dangerous opponent is the challenge you pose.”
“Because I will not hand over the property on a bloody platter?” Bella said.
“No. Because you are as unattainable as the place. He wants you, Bella. Just as fiercely as he wants Wyndmoor.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“I was young once, and there were men in my life. I know when a man lusts after a woman.”
“Harriet!”
Harriet took the pitcher from Bella’s limp hands and set it on the table. “Don’t look so shocked. Blackwood desires you. A blind woman could see it.”
“If what you say is true, then what would you have me do to be rid of him?”
“I don’t believe the answer to our problems is to get rid of the man. To the contrary, the answer just might be to draw him closer, encourage his affections—”
Bella eyed her incredulously. “Are you suggesting I seduce him?”
“Not seduce him, Bella. But encourage his amorous feelings.”
“You think if I bed him, he will hand the place over in gratitude?”
Harriet’s lips thinned. “I’m not speaking of a passing lustful affair, but a more permanent position.”
“You mean marriage? He is a duke. He can marry any titled debutante or heiress he wishes. Women will flock to him upon his return to London.”
“But he is here now, luv, and by the looks of him the only woman who has caught his eye is you.”
“Lust is not love,” Bella argued. “I refuse to be any man’s mistress, and I swore never to marry again after Roger.”
Harriet squeezed Bella’s hand. “That’s just it. Roger was a bad man, a rotten man, and I’d hate to see you avoid remarrying because of him. You are beautiful and good-hearted and too young to spend the rest of your days alone. You deserve a good man, someone you can share your life with and have a family with.”
“Do you honestly believe the duke is a good man?”
“I do. Both the servants and the tenant farmers are fond of him. And unlike Roger, the duke has never suggested that I leave, even though at my advanced age he could have insisted upon my dismissal.”
At Bella’s silence, Harriet pressed on. “Think about it, Bella. You could keep Wyndmoor Manor, be a duchess.”
Bella should have found the thought of marriage abhorrent, but for a brief instant, she allowed herself to consider the notion. Could Harriet be right about James? Could the memory of her seven dismal years spent as Roger’s wife be erased—or, at the least, diminished? As the Duke of Blackwood’s wife, she could keep Wyndmoor and have financial security.
Then reality intruded. From everything she knew and had heard, James was a rogue, a womanizer who had only recently come into his title. He was in no rush to the altar. And if by some miracle he was looking for a wife, the untitled widow of a Plymouth businessman would hardly be his first choice.
Bella embraced her maid. “Oh, Harriet. You pose the impossible and are ever the dreamer.” She picked up the full pitcher and made for the door. “I need to return. The children are waiting for their lemonade.”
“You’ll think about what I said?” Harriet asked.
“I will.” How could she not? Observing James today had allowed Bella to see him in yet another light—which she knew was perilous for her heart, because she found herself yearning for deeply buried desires and dreams long forgotten.
Chapter 14
Hours later, the games were over and everyone sat on blankets spread out on the lawn enjoying lemonade and sweet rolls. James and his fellow barristers told jokes and laughed with Bobby and the other children.
The heat of the afternoon sun ebbed, and Harriet and Mrs. O’Brien directed the servants to carry the plates and cups inside. Soon after, a large coach and team of six arrived and stood ready in the drive to return the duke’s friends to London.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Brent Stone said, bowing politely to Bella.
An odd amusement flashed in Anthony Stevens’s obsidian eyes. “I’m certain we will see each other again, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Bella curtsied. She had no intention of
seeing Anthony Stevens again and had no idea as to what the tall barrister referred. The only trip Bella planned to London would be to meet with the solicitor Evelyn had recommended.
Evelyn stepped forward to embrace Bella warmly and whispered in her ear, “Please contact me when you are in London.”
“I promise,” Bella whispered back.
Evelyn’s husband helped her into the coach, and the footman shut the door. With a low whistle from the driver, the wheels of the coach crunched over the graveled drive. James waved to his friends from the front steps when Bella turned to enter the house.
“Bella,” he called out, “will you walk with me? There’s something of interest I want to show you.”
At his sudden, arresting smile, she felt a moment’s uncertainty. Harriet’s words rushed back to her.
Encourage his amorous feelings. You could keep Wyndmoor Manor, be a duchess.
Could she do it? Looking into his handsome face, her pulse quickened at the idea of marrying him, of knowing him intimately as a man.
He must have mistaken her hesitation as a refusal for he walked forward and said, “It will take but a moment.”
“All right.” She walked down the front steps and they headed down the graveled drive, but instead of following the path to the gardens, he turned toward the stables.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
Her curiosity piqued.
The sun was descending, a brilliant orange ball in a painted sky of pinks, grays, and blues. Gently sloping lawns and a field of buttercups dotted the country landscape. They came to the stables, and she thought he meant to go inside, but instead he led her around the perimeter of the building to the back.
A strange-looking contraption rested against an oak tree. Consisting of a curved wooden frame, it had two large in-line wooden wheels and a wide handlebar assembly in the front.
“It’s a swiftwalker!” she cried out.
“You’ve seen one?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“Not in person, but I’ve seen a sketch in the newspaper. The article said they are all the rage and the dandies are riding them in London. They are even calling them dandy horses.”
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