by Laura Martin
Two children came dashing across the lawn and Georgina stood to gather them in her arms. First to arrive was a boy of about five, followed by a smaller girl, who tottered to keep up, but still managed to outrun the exhausted-looking nursemaid who trailed behind.
‘My darlings, how I have missed you,’ Georgina gushed, peppering the two small children with kisses until both were rolling around, giggling and squirming out of her reach. ‘Now, William, Flora, we have a guest. This is Miss Lina Lock. She will be staying with your uncle for the next few weeks.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Lock,’ William said, his words accompanied by a formal little bow. His expression was serious, as was his tone, and for a second it was as though he were transformed into a miniature adult.
Flora giggled, managed to dip into the sweetest curtsy Lina had ever seen, then promptly turned bright red and hid behind her mother’s skirts.
‘My children,’ Georgina explained rather unnecessarily. ‘William is five, and Flora is three.’ She turned to her son. ‘Now, William, where do you think your uncle might be?’
William’s eyes lit up and he was halfway across the lawn before Flora provided the answer.
‘Horses. Horses. He’s with horses,’ she chanted, flinging herself after her brother much to the nursemaid’s despair.
‘Shall we go and find him?’ Georgina suggested.
Lina nodded her agreement, feeling the excitement swell inside her. She’d known there would be horses on the estate—all the nobility seemed to have them to pull their carriages and to hunt with—but the idea that she might get to ride some of the magnificent animals had never even crossed her mind. She loved horses, loved feeling the wind in her hair as she galloped through the countryside, that sensation of freedom, but the horses her extended family owned were mainly slow, plodding beasts more accustomed to pulling heavy carts than being ridden for pleasure.
‘Lord Whitemore likes to ride?’ Lina asked casually as Georgina linked arms with her and together they followed the two children across the lawn and to the side of the house.
Georgina gave her a slightly curious sidelong look. ‘Yes, my brother likes to ride,’ she confirmed eventually.
They passed through a lovingly tended rose garden before entering a tree-lined walk that filtered some of the sunlight, giving the path a wonderfully dappled effect.
‘If you ever find yourself searching for my brother, this is where he will be,’ Georgina declared as they emerged into a large, dusty courtyard. Lord Whitemore was nowhere to be seen. ‘Well, not here exactly, but somewhere with his beloved horses.’
Daintily Georgina hopped over a pile of manure and led Lina past an assortment of stables and outbuildings to where the fields stretched out before them. In the foreground was a large fenced-off area.
As they drew closer, Lina couldn’t take her eyes off the magnificent, rearing beast that was snorting and stomping in the riding yard. Its coat was a beautiful chestnut brown that glistened in the sunlight and it was by far the biggest horse Lina had ever seen. Currently it didn’t appear too happy, tossing its head and taking hurried little steps sideways, letting out snorts of frustration.
Lina’s gaze was torn from the horse as a figure sauntered across her eyeline. He was tall and particularly muscular, something she could attest to due to the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Sweat dripped over his torso and as he moved Lina thought he looked rather like one of the illustrations in her most treasured book, Greek Gods, Heroes and Myths.
Lord Whitemore approached the horse again, murmuring softly to it words that Lina could not hear, but could see the calming effect they had on the animal. He paused when he was about two feet away, the horse still stomping nervously. Lina was mesmerised; this was the ultimate battle for power and trust, one that she could see Lord Whitemore was well practised at negotiating.
Confidently but slowly he took another step forward, laying a hand on the animal’s neck and stroking softly, still murmuring his soothing words. The horse calmed, became still, and Lina saw the exact moment it capitulated and allowed Lord Whitemore to stroke it gently without any consequence.
Man and beast stood together for a few seconds before Lord Whitemore produced a simple halter.
‘Enough for today,’ Lina heard him whisper, and was amazed as the only recently calmed horse allowed him to slip on the halter and lead it to the edge of the pen. A stable boy quickly opened the gate, but stood back and let Lord Whitemore past rather than taking the animal back to the stables himself.
Lina watched enviously as the animal disappeared from view. She had ridden her fair share of wild horses in her time. She knew how to approach them, how to calm them and how to mount them, but she’d always chosen animals of moderate size, ones that would not cause her too much injury when they inevitably threw her. Every bone of her body wanted to be able to do what Lord Whitemore had just done and more.
‘Ah, Miss Lock. I’d completely forgotten you were arriving today,’ Lord Whitemore said as he emerged from the stables a couple of minutes later.
‘See? There in body, but not in mind,’ Georgina muttered.
Lina bobbed a clumsy curtsy, not knowing where to look as she rose. Lord Whitemore was still topless, but as she watched he grabbed a simple white shirt that was draped over the fence and pulled it over his head. His tanned and muscular torso was still partially visible through the thin white material, especially as it clung to the sweat on his body. Lina swallowed and tried to compose herself. She didn’t know why she was quite so affected by Lord Whitemore’s unexpected half nakedness. In the hot summer months most of the gypsy men she travelled with would set up for the fairs clothed in just their trousers. Lina was no stranger to bare chests and relaxed attitudes to clothing, but something about seeing Lord Whitemore like it had set her heart hammering.
‘What sort of horse was that?’ Lina asked, recovering enough to focus on what was important.
Lord Whitemore and Georgina exchanged glances.
‘You’re interested in horses?’ Lord Whitemore asked.
‘I love horses. He looked like an Arabian.’
‘What have I done?’ Georgina murmured as Lord Whitemore grinned. ‘Another horse lover.’
‘Well, these six weeks have just become a lot more tolerable,’ Lord Whitemore said.
Lina bristled, but forgot her indignation as Lord Whitemore offered her his arm and started explaining the origin and breed of his latest horse.
Chapter Five
What had he got himself into? Alex let his head sink into his hands for a fraction of a second, before straightening up. This would not defeat him. He was a man who had broken in the most difficult of horses—he would not be beaten by a girl’s incessant questioning and arguing.
‘It’s stupid,’ Lina repeated. ‘What does it matter if I call your sister Lady Georgina or Lady Pentworthy? Both are respectful, both give you an idea who she is.’
Alex counted to five before answering. ‘But neither is correct. One more time. Lady Pentworthy would be the wife of Lord Pentworthy. Lady Georgina would be the daughter of a titled gentleman, in this case a marquess.’
‘Which she is,’ Lina said through gritted teeth. ‘So why is it incorrect to address her as Lady Georgina?’
‘She is now married to Mr Pentworthy, so she becomes Lady Georgina Pentworthy. A quirk of marrying a husband of lower rank.’
‘A ridiculous quirk,’ Lina muttered under her breath. ‘It would be much simpler to dispense with all these stupid rules and titles and just call everyone by their actual names.’
‘I will forward your suggestion to the Prince Regent,’ Alex said drily.
He watched as Lina flopped dramatically back in the brown leather armchair situated by the veranda doors in the library. It was only their first day and to ease her into her lessons to become the perfect debutante Alex had suggested they start by getting to grips with how to address people. How he regretted that now.
‘Maybe it would hel
p if you spent a couple of hours familiarising yourself with the contents of Debrett’s,’ he suggested, standing and perusing the shelves until he found the heavy book he was looking for.
Lina sighed, levered herself out of her chair and followed him over to the small table.
‘And what on earth is Debrett’s?’
‘It is a peerage reference book.’
Lina glared at it suspiciously.
‘You do know how to read?’ Alex regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.
‘Just because I’m not titled Lady Lina or Lady Lock or even Lady Lina Lock doesn’t mean I can’t read,’ Lina said huffily, pulling the dusty old tome out of his hands. ‘I would just prefer to read something actually interesting instead of this list of names.’
‘I apologise,’ Alex said, touching Lina lightly on the back of the hand. He felt her stiffen under his touch and quickly withdrew his fingers. It was inappropriate and Alex wasn’t sure what had made him reach out and stroke her hand, but he regretted it immediately.
Ever since Lina had arrived at Whitemore House twenty-four hours ago the time had whizzed past in a whirlwind of activity. It was rather refreshing to have Lina question why they did certain things, to see her amusement at their customs and her awe at the splendour of her surroundings. She was loud, opinionated, sarcastic and not afraid to say exactly what she was feeling, but Alex could see there was more to the spirited gypsy girl than first appearances would suggest. The way he’d caught her running her fingers lovingly along the books on the bookshelves as he’d entered the library, how her eyes had lit up as she watched him with the Arabian horse the day before and how already she and his sister seemed the closest of confidants.
She was pretty, too. Petite and slender, her skin coloured with a hint of warm caramel and dark hair and eyes that told of a heritage somewhere in her ancestors’ past. Once or twice Alex had found himself watching her lips as she smiled and her hips as she moved around the room with a lightness of foot that identified her as a dancer.
This attraction he felt was surprising. Long ago he had been a man who thoroughly enjoyed the company of women. He had kept mistresses, discreetly, of course, and dallied with a selection of both suitable and unsuitable companions. Then Victoria had come along, the woman he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. He’d gently cut off his association with his mistresses, determined to start his married life as he meant to go on: faithful to his wife. Unfortunately Victoria hadn’t shared his values.
Since then Alex hadn’t had the same appreciation for a beautiful woman. He hadn’t reconnected with any of his old mistresses, hadn’t felt that spark of attraction with anyone really. Until now.
It was completely inappropriate and unhelpful. Lina was from a different world and she was here to help him win a wager, not to become his new mistress.
‘Just have a flick through,’ Alex suggested, motioning to the book. ‘I’ll ring for some tea.’ Or something stronger.
Dutifully Lina leafed through the pages of the book, stopping every so often to read an entry. It was quite satisfying to watch her expression turn from one of mild boredom to avid interest.
‘Did you know the Duke of Hampshire has been married six times?’ Lina asked.
‘Unfortunately, yes. He’s rather a lecherous old man, but women can’t help throwing themselves at his title and money, it would seem.’
‘Does he kill them off?’
Alex nearly choked on the mouthful of tea he had just imbibed.
‘Well, to lose one or two is unfortunate... Six is just suspicious,’ Lina said with a grin.
‘I’ll ask him next time I see him.’
‘You know him?’
‘Went to school with one of his sons. From his second marriage, I think.’
‘I’d love to meet him.’
‘Certainly not.’ Alex realised he sounded like a pompous old man. ‘Unless you’re hoping to become wife number seven,’ he added.
Lina fell quiet for a while, turning the pages and occasionally smiling to herself. After a few minutes, she sat back and turned to Alex. Inwardly he groaned. Normally he would praise a woman for having an enquiring mind, but there was a certain way Lina asked her questions—a tenacious stubbornness not to let any matter rest if she wasn’t quite satisfied—that was exhausting. Alex didn’t normally mind admitting he didn’t know something; it happened rarely enough and often the subject matter was something obscure seeing that he was well educated and had an enquiring mind, but he had lost count of the number of times he’d had to concede he wasn’t entirely sure of an answer since Lina’s arrival.
‘What would happen if I addressed someone incorrectly?’ Lina asked.
Alex frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, imagine we are at this ball of yours in six weeks’ time.’
He had to suppress a shudder at the thought. Right now Lina was so far from being ready she’d fuel the gossips for a decade if he took her to a London ball.
‘I’m imagining it...’ he murmured.
‘And you introduce me to some duke or duchess.’
Heaven forbid. At the moment he was wondering if he could get away with only letting Lina talk to strategically placed friends around this proposed ballroom.
‘I curtsy.’
Alex had seen her curtsies; they would certainly need at least half a day’s work.
‘And then I address him as Duke Dorrington. What would happen?’
‘I still don’t understand the question.’ Alex could understand the words, but wasn’t entirely sure exactly what Lina wanted to know.
‘Would I be hauled in front of a magistrate? Exiled to Australia? Would the ceiling of the ballroom crumble on top of me? Would the Duke expire from shock? What. Would. Happen?’
Alex had forgotten to include prone to exaggerate in his mental list of Lina’s qualities.
‘You would probably get some very hard looks and the whispering would start as soon as you were out of earshot.’
‘Oh, Lord—not the whispering,’ Lina murmured.
‘A woman’s reputation can be ruined by just one poorly timed remark or faux pas in form of address.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Everyone makes mistakes.’
Alex agreed. The etiquette and rules of polite society did seem over the top sometimes.
‘To you it may not be of great concern to have some gossipy matrons judging you, but imagine if you were a debutante eagerly searching for a husband. These women would be part of your social circle for the rest of your life and who knows whom they may have influence over? In a matter of minutes you could go from the most eligible young woman in the ballroom to someone to be avoided because of their vulgarity and lack of manners.’
‘And if it were a man that made the mistake?’ Lina asked shrewdly. ‘If it were you that addressed someone wrongly?’
‘I agree it is unfair, but the standards are different for men and women. I could probably call someone Lord Coward, Duke of Half-Wit, and it would be laughed off within seconds.’
Lina nodded thoughtfully, pursing her lips. ‘My mother used to say that women have to hold themselves to higher standards than men. We have to have double the respect, double the strength, double the commitment.’
‘She sounds like a very sensible woman.’
‘She was.’
Alex heard the catch in Lina’s voice as she spoke and was just rising out of his chair to offer comfort when Lina turned to him with a breezy smile.
‘Enough of this,’ she declared. ‘Wouldn’t it be much more fun if we went to see your horses?’
‘And how exactly will that help me win this wager?’
‘I’ll practise addressing the horses as if they were lords and ladies.’
What would the stable boys think? Yet Alex felt the irresistible pull of the stables. All morning he had been eager to dash out to the yard and throw himself back into his work. Spending the time teaching Lina how to address the diff
erent ranks of nobility hadn’t been as bad as he had first feared—Lina was quick and clever and had a sly humour that made the time pass much quicker. Nothing, however, could keep his mind from wandering to his new Arabian and how he would approach the next stage of its training.
‘Half an hour,’ Alex agreed sternly. ‘Then it’s back to your studies.’
Lina was up and out through the door before Alex was even on his feet and as he quickened his pace to keep up his mind was calculating training timetables and regimes.
‘What is it that you do with the horses?’ Lina asked as they approached the stables.
‘I raise them, train them and then race them. Well, I get them ready to be raced,’ he corrected himself. ‘Someone else does the actual riding during the race.’
‘How many horses do you have?’
‘At the moment, fifteen. The number varies as I buy and sell them on. And they’re not all racehorses. I have two mares that I’m hoping to start breeding soon, four Cleveland Bays for the carriage and two old thoroughbreds for general riding.’
He saw the excitement in her eyes as he spoke and knew it wouldn’t be long before she had persuaded him to take her out riding. Not that Alex minded. As much as he enjoyed breaking in a new stallion or training a thoroughbred for a race, nothing could beat the feel of galloping over the fields purely for pleasure.
‘And the horse I saw yesterday?’
‘My latest project,’ Alex said. ‘An Arabian that had been giving its previous owners all sorts of problems. They haven’t been able to harness or ride him, so I took him off their hands for a very reasonable price.’
‘Will you race him?’
Alex shrugged. He hadn’t planned to initially. A large majority of the winning horses in the big races were thoroughbreds, but Arabians certainly took some of the titles. His initial plan had been to keep the new stallion for breeding, so good were his bloodlines, but after seeing his strength and spirit Alex thought he might well have a winning racehorse on his hands.