A Hoyden and an Heiress (Greenford Waters Book 4)

by Kristin Vayden

  “To the tree line!” Berty called out. Leaning forward, she held fast as Herra’s head arched with each stride, clearly enjoying the chance to run freely.

  Henry’s mount was a length ahead, and he continued to glance over his shoulder as if affirming that he was still in the lead.

  But not for long.

  Berty whistled, and Herra blew out a snort and increased her pace, closing the distance.

  Henry looked over his shoulder again, realizing that Berty was gaining, and narrowed his eyes.

  The tree line just beyond, Berty leaned further, watching as Herra pulled up even with Henry’s gelding, only to have them cross the line at the same time.

  Berty gently slowed Herra’s pace, Henry doing the same with his mount. The horses snorted as they leisurely walked through the short path through the wood before the crest of the hill that would grant them a view of Garden Gate.

  “Tie?” Henry asked, offering a devilish grin.

  “Unfortunately,” Berty replied.

  Henry chuckled. “Can’t always win, and isn’t losing with grace a ladylike quality?”

  “That would explain why I’m not in possession of that particular quality,” she retorted with an impertinent grin.

  “And here I was convinced you were a simpering English flower.”

  Berty giggled, shaking her head. “Recently?”

  “First impressions, mind you.”

  “Ah, that makes more sense. It’s quite a common misconception. I had my own assumptions about your person as well.”

  “Which were?” Henry prodded.

  “Cool, distant, silent,” Berty answered.

  “Not a glowing recommendation.”

  “I wasn’t finished.” She glanced to him. “I was also going to add… irritating, boorish, and highhanded.”

  “And the list doesn’t improve.” Henry shook his head, yet his grin bespoke his unoffended nature. “Are you holding to those first impressions, or have I improved with time?” he asked, his gaze warm and inviting as it lingered on Berty.

  Feeling a flush heat her face, she answered. “Some have altered.”

  “Some?”

  “Some.”

  “I see I have room for improvement.”

  “Don’t we all?” Berty asked.

  “Some more than others, apparently,” Henry stated wryly.

  Berty answered bravely, feeling her face heat with her bold statement. “I do enjoy being proven incorrect by you.” She felt Henry’s regard, yet she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

  “It is quite delightful to convince you otherwise.”

  A smile teased her lips, and she flickered her eyes to meet his. “So perhaps you aren’t as remorseful about yesterday as you originally stated?” she asked hopefully.

  Henry broke eye contact. “Pleasure has nothing to do with propriety.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Henry crested the hill and halted his mount.

  Berty did the same, waiting for a response.

  Rather than answer, Henry slid from his horse and tied the reins to a low branch of nearby tree, giving enough lead for the animal to partake of the tender grass.

  She continued to wait, the moments ticking by exhaustingly slow. She followed his example and tied Herra up as well, allowing her to munch. She calmed herself by patting her mare’s neck.

  A warm hand slid around her waist, causing her breath to catch even as her heart started to race. With a whisper of a touch, Henry tucked a length of her fashionably short hair behind her ear. Her heart paused then broke out into a sprint as the heady sensation of his lips sweeping across the arch of her neck pulsed through her. He nipped playfully at her earlobe, kissed down softly to where her shoulder began, then started the circuit once more. Berty exhaled shakily, both delighted and confused at the feelings he created with even the smallest touch.

  “You do realize that you never answered the question.” She spoke breathily.

  Henry chuckled against her neck, nuzzling the sensitive flesh with his nose. “I rather thought I was.”

  Berty inhaled through her nose, trying to collect her scattered wits. “Perhaps, you could be clearer?” she dared.

  Henry released her waist and gently grasped her hips, encouraging her to turn to face him, to which she readily agreed. He ran the back of his hand gently down her cheek, his warm gaze searching her face, studying her with an intensity that left her breathless. “Just because something is pleasing, doesn’t make it correct behavior.” He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to her forehead.

  As he released her, she slowly opened her eyes, realizing just how much taller he was than she. It was rather endearing to feel so petite; it made her feel protected, cherished, safe.

  “My behavior yesterday—”

  “And today,” Berty added impishly.

  “And today…” Henry admitted, twining his hand within hers. “…goes against what is proper. For that, I apologize.”

  “Don’t.” Berty reached up and placed her gloved fingers on his lips, studying the perfect shape of them. “Please.”

  Henry nodded then opened his mouth just enough to kiss her fingers, his warm breath seeping through her gloves and warming her far more than should be possible.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured against her fingertips.

  “I’ve only been waiting,” Berty replied, though her tone was far too breathy to be as witty as she’d intended.

  Henry lowered his head, and Berty rose up on her tiptoes, meeting him halfway. His kiss was both familiar and new, thrilling and captivating all at once. His soft lips swept across hers as his hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head to the side and fully capturing her mouth.

  Berty gasped at the increased pressure as his tongue licked her lower lip. He gentled the kiss, but Berty was unwilling to stand down. Mimicking his maneuver, she dared to trace the line of his lips with her tongue, earning a muted groan of pleasure from Henry, and an enthusiastic response. His hand released her cheek, and both arms bound around her, pulling then holding her close as his tongue swept inside of her mouth.

  Dear Lord.

  Berty melted into the kiss, into the embrace, barely aware of the need for breath when Henry pulled back slightly. “This can’t last, you know.”

  She withdrew farther, and blinking, she asked. “Pardon?”

  Storms raged in his gray eyes as he caressed her jawline with his fingertips. “This. I’ll not delude myself into thinking that this can be any other than a few stolen moments. Don’t concern yourself that I’m expecting more.”

  He spoke with such deep conviction that Berty again blinked sporadically as she tried to make sense of his words.

  “Is that what I am to you, then?” she asked, feeling her ire rise.

  Henry took a long breath. “It’s all you can be, and I need you to know that I’m content with that.”

  “You are,” Berty stated, rather than asked, her temper flaring.

  “I’ll not delude myself. To do so would not only be foolish but quite expectant.

  “Is that so?” Berty kept her tone even, though inwardly she seethed.

  “You’re the ward of the Duke of Clairmont,” Henry noted cautiously, as if starting to realize he wasn’t in friendly territory any longer.

  “Somehow I’d missed that.”

  “Come now, certainly you’d be happy to know I’m not after your fortune.”

  “Just stealing a few moments, then? Is that all?” Berty replied hotly, withdrawing completely and stomping over to where Herra contentedly munched.

  She jerked on the reins a little too much and earned a perplexed glance from her mare. “Sorry.” Berty petted her neck.

  “It confounds me as to why you’re upset.” Henry stated, his tone warning that he was not only confused but irritated.

  “Yes, it certainly is confusing, is it not?” Berty bit back, placing her foot in the stirrup and gnashing her teeth as she was loath admitting she
might need help climbing up.

  Over her dead body. With anger as her extra push, she mounted the sidesaddle, albeit a bit awkwardly.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Henry asked, his tone clearly angry now.

  “Leaving,” Berty ground out. “Since I’m clearly only of pleasurable interest, and I’ve been made fully aware that any sort of…” She paused. “…anything, is not of interest to you, I do believe I’ll take my leave.” She hated how inarticulate her words sounded, even to her own ears.

  “Wait.” Henry reached out and grasped Herra’s reins, inhibiting any progress.

  “What!” Berty answered angrily, readying for whatever verbal warfare he planned to wage.

  “That hot temper of yours is going to be your downfall, Miss Lamont.”

  “Are we back to that, Mr. Willox?”

  “It would seem so, yet I haven’t a clue as to why you’re in such a snit. Here I was amending my first impression of you, and you seem hellbent on remaining true to my first inclinations.”

  “Why you—”

  “Here I lay out the truth — the truth, mind you — and you’re ready to bolt and run. Why?” he demanded.

  “Why?” Berty repeated, her eyes widening of their own accord.

  “Yes. Why?” Henry asked again, his expression shifting to one of patience, as if willing to wait for an eternity for the answer if need be.

  Drat the man.

  “Because I don’t stay where I’m not wanted,” Berty answered through clenched teeth.

  “And I somehow gave you the impression that you weren’t wanted? That seems odd, since a kiss is usually understood as an action of want,” he replied with heavy sarcasm.

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  “I don’t like your attitude.”

  ‘I don’t care.”

  “Well, I happen to care, so you might as well stop your snit and behave like an adult not a spoiled child.”

  “How dare you—”

  “Speak the truth?” he interrupted, arching a brow.

  Berty narrowed her eyes. “What about you?” She returned the question.

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If I understand correctly, you’re more than willing to admit your humble birth and state how it doesn’t recommend you to someone with my social status, but rather than find yourself as more than what you’re born into, you’re willing to wallow in it.”

  Henry blinked back to her, his expression perplexed.

  “Am I incorrect?” Berty challenged.

  “That is beside the point.”

  “I rather think it is the point,” she contested.

  “Then we’re at an impasse. Both of our faults lay bare, the question is what to about it, hmm?” he asked, slowly releasing Herra’s reins, as if offering her a choice.

  “If you cannot make up your mind, then I have no reason to stay,” Berty replied lowly then turned Herra quickly and galloped away.

  Because one thing was for certain, one always fought for love.

  But what she’d never realized was that it couldn’t be a one-sided battle.

  Two had to fight for it together.

  And she suddenly felt quite alone.

  HENRY WATCHED THE cloud of dust settle as he raked his hand through his hair. “That didn’t go well.”

  His gelding sighed heavily as if agreeing with him.

  He shot an irritated glare at the horse’s direction, but the gelding paid him no mind and continued to eat the grass.

  Damn woman. He was loath to admit that she had a valid point, but he was not able to let that excuse her behavior. Good Lord, the woman flew into a snit faster than he could even blink. Though, there was some merit to the idea that he could have addressed the topic in a better way.

  But surely, Berty had avoided scores of suitors, most of whom had been after her monetary worth rather than the treasure that she was, in and of herself. Didn’t she want to know that he entertained no delusions? That he wasn’t after her money? Could have he been any more candid?

  Yet she had become so severely offended! He had never imagined. What he had intended to be a comforting truth had turned out to bite him in the arse.

  “Women,” he grumbled, tugging the reins upward and mounting the gelding. Reluctantly, the horse left behind the tasty treat and ambled toward the estate. The distance would give Henry time to think, yet as he urged the horse into a canter, he found the soothing rhythm wasn’t soothing any longer, and his mind was still muddled with confusion and, if he were honest, a little bit of shame.

  Her statement of their difference in status was all too accurate, yet what was even more so was the idea that he was wallowing in it.

  How he hated the picture that word painted.

  After all, a man was what he was born into, was he not?

  Yet part of him wondered if maybe, just maybe… it was possible to be more. If maybe, just maybe… Berty thought of him as more.

  The idea sang to him, resonated deep in his soul. And it was a rather delightful thought that someone might hold him in a higher esteem than he even held himself.

  And if that were the case, then he certainly had made a bloody mess of it.

  Damn it all, he was going to have to apologize.

  Shaking his head, he forced his thoughts back to his current task. Finding out if there were indeed informants amongst the ranks.

  He considered Berty’s information about her maid as well as Captain Brockston. His instinct said that something about the situation was off, yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for his wariness. As he closed the distance to the estate’s stables, he modified his day’s plans and decided to inquire about Berty’s maid, Alice.

  He noted that Herra was already being groomed as he dismounted inside the stable. Handing off his reins to a stable boy, he nodded once and stepped back into the sunshine. Berty was nowhere to be readily seen, and his gut said to give her space, even as he truly wanted to remedy their disagreement as soon as possible. Yet his need to investigate trumped the inclinations of his heart, and so he quickly headed to his room, changed into his livery, sent a missive to the officer he was to meet at the encampment, and began inquiring.

  At least one good point was that he needn’t don the red coat… yet.

  And as he searched for answers, he found nothing but a never-ending loop of more questions.

  The suspicious feeling from earlier began to grow, and when he finished inquiring about the maid from several long-employed servants, he went on to see if he could find the woman herself.

  Only to discover that she was away.

  With Berty.

  Alone.

  Unease crept into his stomach as he strode down the hall toward the library, hoping to find Lady Southridge. He found it quite odd that Berty had left with Alice, not bothering to take along her close companion.

  He poked his head into the library, exhaling a sigh of relief mentally as he noticed the fiend of a woman reading tranquilly.

  After entering the room fully, he bowed and waited for her notice.

  “Yes?” she asked, setting the book down to the side as a wide and knowing grin spread across her face.

  “My lady.” He nodded. “If I could indispose you for a moment of your time?” he asked politely, even as his impatience threatened to break through.

  “Indeed.” Lady Southridge nodded serenely, although her expression was one of mischief.

  Henry took a calming breath, thinking quickly how he must address the question without raising alarm. “Miss Lamont asked for her carriage to be readied at three p.m. We were inquiring as to if you were planning on attending her? Since we cannot locate Miss Lamont.”

  He rather felt it was a stretch, but he waited patiently, nonetheless.

  “Odd. She ordered a carriage, you say?” Lady Southridge’s brows arched, and she stood slowly, as if taking her time to consider her words.

  “Yes.” Henry answered her question, having the
distinct feeling he was walking into a trap yet finding no escape imminent.

  Lady Southridge gave a slight shrug as she casually circled him. “So, you’re saying that she ordered a carriage ready at three, even though not more than a half hour ago she took said carriage to Garden Gate?”

  Henry released a breath of relief. At least now he knew where she was. “It must have been our mistake, my lady. A thousand apologies.” He bowed and waited for her to dismiss him.

  If only he were so lucky.

  “What I also find strange is that she was so set on seeing Garden Gate when she mentioned that she had wandered that direction this morning. It’s not difficult to see Garden Gate in the distance from the hill… the very hill she mentioned visiting.”

  Henry had the distinct sensation he was being cross-examined. He chose his words carefully, but was interrupted before he could make a comment.

  “And it was a beautifully clear morning. Why, I remember its clarity as I saw not one, but two riders heading that very direction very early…” She let the implication linger.

  “Yet only one rider returned — quite vexed, mind you — and quite set on seeing a sight that she’d somehow overlooked this morning. Unless she was sufficiently distracted?”

  “Quite a mystery, my lady,” Henry replied cautiously.

  “Indeed. What do you think proves as a worthy distraction, young Henry?” Lady Southridge arched a brow, pausing as she waited.

  He reserved a reply to her use of his correct name and simply addressed the question with one of his own. “What would you qualify as a distraction, my lady? I am grateful to know of Miss Lamont’s whereabouts since the other staff was concerned.”

  “The other staff was aware,” Lady Southridge replied archly even as her lips pulled into a knowing grin. “At least the staff you weren’t investigating. Do you really think I’m as blind as my age would suggest? You forget who my family is.” She shook her head.

  Even with the gravity of the situation, Henry broke into a grin. Hadn’t Berty said something so similar not more than two days ago? Was this the type of woman she would become once age had graced her life? If so, he was both delighted and terrified.