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This was exactly not what Viola needed. She’d only that morning convinced her father and Lady Darlingiver of the futileness of their visit. Shortly before luncheon, she’d packed them into her father’s coach and sent them on their way back to London for the remainder of the season.
Now, she had Connor leading Brock out to the pasture and then leaving him there to watch while her stable master prepared refreshments. They definitely had a few things to discuss after their guest departed.
And that kiss! What had she been thinking, lingering in his embrace for so long? She hadn’t been thinking. She’d been caught in the moment; her heart rate still beat erratically. She paused outside the stables to catch her breath. Her hand came to rest against her bosom. Her breasts expanded and contracted against the rough material of her tunic.
What was wrong with her? She’d been caught off guard—that was all. She simply hadn’t expected to see him outside her training ring. With a deep sigh, she continued inside.
As she walked into the stables, Star close on her heels, Alexander appeared at her side.
“Can I be help’n you, m’lady?”
“That’s ‘my lady,’ Alexander.”
“Yes’m.” The boy bowed his head.
“Alexander, we’ve gone over and over this. It is, ‘Yes, my lady.’ You will never be hired in a fancy stable in London if you do not speak properly.”
“I understand, my lady.”
“Much better. You will be round for your lesson after the evening’s feeding, correct?”
“I would never miss a lesson, my lady,” Alexander said as he bowed and then moved toward Star’s stall door, his crippled arm hanging loose at his side. “In, girl.”
She watched in disbelief as the foal moved easily into the stall and Alexander closed the door behind her. Other than herself, only Alexander showed such skill with the foals. She was certain he would prove a superior stable master in one of London’s finest homes, if only the ton could look past his deformity and see his heart, his drive to succeed after such a harsh beginning. If they couldn’t, of course, Alexander would always have a home at Foldger’s Foals and her father’s adjoining estate, Foldger’s Hall.
“Please double check the water pails in each stall after you brush Star down.”
“Of course, my lady.”
She turned and started toward her office—and certain exposure, she was sure. Brock’s unexpected arrival had ruined her plan to be conveniently away from the stables the day he returned for his horses.
The blasted man had destroyed everything.
Not only had he returned unexpectedly, but he’d also dared to kiss her. As much as Vi would like to pretend it hadn’t happened, she already felt something awakening within that she’d suppressed many years ago. Love was not in her future. One little kiss would not change that, no matter how her heart fluttered at the thought.
As she approached her office, she heard voices through the open door. Male voices. Several—as in more than two—male voices. She could not fathom who, other than Connor and Brock, would be in her office. They weren’t expecting any other clients. She slowed and peeked in the door.
“Here she is now, gentlemen.”
Bloody hell!
Connor moved around her desk toward the door. The men loitering in her office also turned in her direction. One was dressed as if he’d just left a musicale in one of London’s many drawing rooms. The man’s yellow pants were offensive to Vi’s eyes. Thankfully, she hadn’t encountered the man outside, or she might have been blinded by the light he gave off. Brock and the other man were dressed more appropriately considering their task.
“Let me introduce Lady Posey Hale.” Connor stood at Vi’s side and faced her guests. “This is Mr. Rodney Swiftenberg, Lord Haversham’s cousin.”
The dandy bowed in her direction, his eyes scrutinizing her face. “Lovely to meet you.” He paused in thought. “Although I must confess I feel we’ve met before. Do you travel to town often?”
“It is a pleasure, Mr. Swiftenberg. I have not had the enjoyment of attending a season in many years.” Viola eyed the man similarly, certain they’d met before but unable to place where.
“And this is Mr. Harold Jakeston,” Connor continued.
“Lady Posey.” Mr. Jakeston issued a bow lower than was customary. His dirty-blond hair fell to cover his eyes. His hand swept over his forehead, efficiently pushing the wayward lock back into place, revealing amber gold eyes.
“Welcome to Foldger’s Foals. Are you here to acquire a few of your own?” Viola asked in confusion.
“We are merely here to help Haversham remove his horses to his stables,” Mr. Swiftenberg chimed in.
“That’s wonderful, but you are early. There are still a few foals not ready to leave.” Vi moved through the men to the safety of her desk, not venturing a glance in Brock’s direction. She was sure her face would burn in yet another blush if she dared.
“I hope to collect the foals that are ready—”
“That will not be necessary,” Vi stated, changing her mind abruptly. “They will all be ready today.”
“Are you certain?” Connor questioned her. “You just said—”
“Of course, Mr. Cale,” she interrupted. “You won’t mind accompanying Lord Haversham back to his estate to make certain the transfer is smooth?” She was shocked she’d come up with a plan with barely a thought, but this would handle Brock’s problematic presence. She could not have him hanging around the area for Lord knew how long. What if her father decided to return and try his hand at convincing her to travel to London?
That would be a disaster of epic proportions.
“I’m sure that will not be necessary—” Lord Haversham started again.
“My lord, you are a busy man and I do not seek to waste more of your time. Mr. Cale can accompany you to ensure the younger foals adjust to life on your estate.” Vi turned to Connor, hoping her discomfort would be attributed to her busyness. Surely the stable master couldn’t guess that she was squirming at the memory of Brock’s lips pressed firmly against hers. “Please ready the foals. Lord Haversham has a long journey in front of him.”
She kept her eyes firmly on Connor, for fear that every person in the room would see straight through her ruse.
“We will help prepare to leave.” Lord Haversham nodded in Mr. Jakeston’s direction.
Viola felt the pressure leave the room as Connor, Brock, and Mr. Jakeston filed out. Only Mr. Swiftenberg remained. Again, Vi had the feeling she’d met the man before, but she couldn’t place him. If they had met at a ball or the opera years ago surely, he’d not remember her.
He too moved toward the door, as if to follow the other men out.
Vi sank into her chair and lowered her head into her hands, propped on her desk. She needed a few minutes to compose herself. Her fingers itched to touch her still-swollen lips. Ever since her first encounter with Brock, nothing had gone as she’d wanted or planned.
Instead, she heard the door shut and the lock moved into place with a deafening click.
She lifted her head from her hands.
“Well, well, well. I’d always wondered what happened to you.” Mr. Swiftenberg didn’t turn, but kept his back to her.
Realization dawned in the next instant. Morning fog . . . gun shots . . . I assure you there has been no mistake made this day. His clothes were different now, but his arrogance was the same as she remembered.
“Did you think I would not recognize you? Tsk, tsk. It has not been so many years—”
Vi’s eyes narrowed. Would she be able to intimidate him into silence? She had to convince him to keep her secret.
“Lady Viola Oberbrook.” Swiftenberg pivoted from the door and bowed in her direction. “I am unsure I can say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, but at least you haven’t caused any innocent men to lose their lives this day.”
“You must be mistaken—” Vi stood from her chair. T
he plea in her voice was unmistakable, even to herself.
“Believe me, I sincerely wish I was mistaken.” Mr. Swiftenberg—Rodney—strolled across the office and around her desk, his pace agonizingly slow, until they were toe to toe. “I want you to stay away from my cousin.”
“Do you think this was my plan? To ever again come face to face with a member of your family?”
“You have always been a conniving, scheming wench!”
Vi drew back at the venom in his voice. “I want nothing to do with Bro— Lord Haversham. I only want him to collect his foals and be gone.” Her hands shook, her legs ready to give out beneath her.
Rodney spun around on his heels and his hand flew to his head, pulling through his immaculate hair. “I do not need you complicating things for me at this juncture. I am so close!”
“Close to what?”
“This was not supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.” The man appeared to be coming unhinged.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Vi asked.
“I am talking about my estate, my title, and my inheritance!” With each ‘my’ his finger jabbed into his chest.
“You think I invited him here? That I want to drag out my past?” The questions rushed from her lips, but Rodney gave no indication he heard or comprehended a word she spoke. “Please, do not tell him who I am!”
“I fear I have no other option but to expose you.” Rodney paced in front of Vi’s desk. “He is interested in you. Why else would he hurry back here so quickly, other than to see the beautiful Lady Posey Hale?”
“Impossible . . .” But even as she protested, she pictured Brock’s form fitted perfectly against hers.
“Impossible that he is infatuated with you? Or impossible that he cannot recognize the woman responsible for his beloved brothers’ deaths?” Rodney laughed.
A chill crept up Vi’s spine. Her secret was close to being exposed. The life she’d built since that day—the day that would be forever branded into her very being—would be ripped from her. “I will not entertain his interest, nor do I plan to return to society. Ever.”
“The bell of the ball doesn’t wish to be the center of attention again? Please! Things cannot change. People do not change.”
“I have not attended a ball in eight years. Regardless of what you think, I have changed.”
“Highly unlikely.” He stopped his pacing and confronted her where she sat in her desk chair.
Life as she knew it was slipping from her grasp. If she were publicized as the owner of Foldger’s Foals, her father would follow through with his threat to sell her stables and return her to a life of idleness. A life filled only with needlepoint and the occasional visits from family members. Only more appalling than this was the many she would be unable to continue helping.
A part of her considered the flip side of the coin. Maybe she did owe it to Brock and his family to pay retribution for the sins committed against them. The sins she alone was responsible for. Was it not Brock’s right to punish her as he saw fit, regardless of whatever penance she may already have paid?
Could repenting lessen the weight on her soul?
Perhaps the time had come for her to confess her sins. Instead, she asked, “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to stay away from Brock. After today, I want you to act as if you’ve never met the man.”
“Done.” Why did a piece of her rebel at this agreement?
“No, you will take this one step further. If he tries to contact you—which I have no doubt he will do—you’ll ignore his correspondence. Rebuff any advances he might make in the future.” Rodney’s posture straightened, his confidence returning. “Yes, this will suit me just fine.”
“Whatever you want. But please, remove yourself from my office. I feel I’m a bit under the weather and wish to rest a spell.”
Rodney nodded. “That is perfect. I will give the men your regrets at not attending us at our departure.”
“Say as you wish.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Until . . . never, Lady Posey Hale. I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation.” With a bow in her direction, Rodney turned and unlocked the door, flinging it wide on its hinges.
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