A Scoundrel by Moonlight (13 page)

Damn it, if she didn’t want to hear “fall,” he didn’t want to hear “body.” Teaching Miss Trim to ride was a risky enterprise. If only for her instructor.

Slowly he walked around the yard without looking back. He needed to get himself under control before he chanced another glimpse. When he finally did, he was pleased to see her sitting more naturally. “That’s better.”

“I still feel like I’m about to end up on the cobbles,” she admitted, although she didn’t look nearly so frozen.

“You’d have to jump. Snowflake’s back is broader than most chairs.”

“A horse armchair?”

He smiled, charmed, and wishing to Hades that he wasn’t. “Precisely.”

He led Snowflake around the yard again, then stood back to let Eleanor try on her own. As he’d expected, she quickly
adapted to the horse’s gait. A quick learner, Miss Trim. He knew that from working with her.

Inevitably, the idea of her being a quick learner here inclined his thoughts toward another kind of riding. With her mounted upon the Marquess of Leath rather than a fat, phlegmatic pony who hadn’t accelerated past a trot in ten years. The sensual daydream of watching her undulate over his body occupied him to a point where he stopped watching.

“My lord?” She and Snowflake halted a few feet away.

“How was that?”

“I’m getting used to it.”

“You’ll come to like it.”

“Perhaps.” Although he was pleased to see her lean to pat Snowflake’s white neck.

“Go around the yard again, if you please.”

He smiled at her growing confidence. As for her riding something other than a horse? The wicked idea arose that where there was a will, there was a way. Surely one could avoid scandal, if one was careful. Perhaps he was too punctilious about protecting Miss Trim’s virtue.

After all, she had a perfect right to say no to any offer.

S
ir Garth Burton to see you, my lord.”

At Wells’s announcement, Leath glanced up from the latest report from Derbyshire. Not that he concentrated with any purpose this morning. Miss Trim’s presence—quiet, helpful, damnably tempting—at her desk made that impossible. The devil inside him kept whispering that if he invited her to his bed and she assented, the sin was hers.

“Garth Burton? Here?” he asked in surprise. Burton was among the few parliamentary colleagues whose support had never wavered, despite the scandals. But he lived in Wiltshire and Alloway Chase wasn’t on the way to anywhere. This couldn’t be a merely social call. What the devil was afoot? “Send him in.”

Miss Trim had risen. “I’ll leave you, sir.”

A female secretary was unusual enough to cause comment, although unlike most of London’s rattlepates, Burton knew how to keep his mouth shut. Still, perhaps it was best if his visitor didn’t see her. But before he could respond,
Sir Garth was through the door, advancing with an enthusiastic lope and an extended hand.

“Leath, old fellow. It’s been too long.”

Leath returned the handshake with a warmth he didn’t need to feign. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods? Yorkshire in October is an odd choice for a jaunt.”

“Ah, thereby hangs a tale,” Burton said, his eyes sparking with curiosity as they settled on Miss Trim.

“My secretary, Miss Eleanor Trim,” Leath said drily. Eleanor dropped into a curtsy.

“Miss Trim,” Burton said with a brief bow before shoving a satchel stuffed with papers at Leath. “Wellington sent me. The party’s in chaos and if we’re not careful the government will fall. He…
we
need your help.”

“Mine?” Leath asked, wondering if the world had gone mad. At their last meeting, the prime minister had made him feel about as welcome as a cat at a mouse’s birthday party. Without looking at Miss Trim, he knew that she watched him with an intensity that set the air crackling. He hoped like hell that Burton didn’t notice.

“You’re the only one with the imagination to save us from this blasted mess. Every attempt so far has only deepened the quarrel between the reformers and the voices of restraint.”

“I’m recalled to London?” Leath asked, puzzled that he wasn’t leaping about the room, cheering and ordering champagne. After all, this sojourn in the country was only ever meant as a temporary measure until the fuss over his uncle and Sophie blew over. His place was in Westminster steering the nation, not here mooning over his lovely secretary and counting the legs on his livestock.

A shadow crossed Burton’s affable face. “No, not yet.” He paused. “But I’m sure that your assistance will lead to reinstatement in the cabinet. Eventually.”

Leath’s smile was sardonic. Still, he wondered at the wave of relief sweeping through him that he needn’t pack for an immediate return to the halls of power.

Sir Garth clearly mistook his silence for anger. “I’m sorry. I wish I had better news for you. You have no idea how we’ve missed you over the last weeks, especially with these damned rabble-rousers. Your good sense and deft touch would have nipped the trouble in the bud. If it was up to me, I’d be bundling you into a southbound coach right now.”

“It’s all right, Burton.” And the strange truth was that it indeed was all right. “It’s not your fault that I’m still persona non grata. Although I’m not sure what I can accomplish from this distance.”

Burton looked almost as grateful to hear the composed response as Leath had felt when he’d realized that the man wasn’t summoning him to the capital. “We need someone to find a solution that placates all involved.”

“You’ve come a damned long way for a chat,” Leath said tartly.

Burton laughed. “It’s a devil of a problem. As you’ll see when I give you the details.”

The door opened and Wells directed the footmen to set up a meal. “My lord, I arranged a light repast as it’s approaching noon and Sir Garth has been traveling. I hope that meets with your approval.”

“It certainly meets with my approval, Wells,” Burton said with the boyish grin that went a long way to hiding the sharp brain under his mop of ash-blond hair.

“Thank you, Wells,” Leath said.

“I’ll check on her ladyship, sir,” Miss Trim said.

He stopped her with a wave of his hand. “No, I need you.”

He had a sinking feeling that was no more than the truth. Perhaps he shouldn’t be quite so glad that Burton’s arrival
didn’t mean an immediate departure for London. Some distance from Miss Trim might remind him that he’d once been a sensible man.

To soften the command, he sent her a faint smile. “Please take notes.” He turned to his colleague. “You’d better tell me everything. And don’t waste time trying to place a positive gloss on it. I need to know just how much blood we have to mop up.”

In the leafless woodland, early sun sparkled on the frosty grass as Nell guided her horse after Leath. She rode Adela, a sweet-natured chestnut mare who had replaced the stolid Snowflake as Nell became more proficient in the saddle. Ahead, his lordship sat astride a powerful black thoroughbred that looked ready to carry him to the gates of hell.

He’d been particularly quiet this morning. She assumed he brooded over his continuing exile from London. Yesterday’s mail had detailed the successful results of his meeting with Sir Garth Burton last week. She wasn’t surprised that Leath had rescued the government from disaster. But as she’d worked with the two men until after midnight, she’d found herself awash in admiration for Leath’s tireless dedication and ability to follow a winding path to a solution that nobody had considered. Sir Garth had left the following morning, expressing frank disgust at a government that excluded a talent like Leath, whatever scandals darkened his name.

Leath must feel exactly the same. Her suggestion that he should stay in Yorkshire seemed even more inane than ever, now she’d seen him exercising his political skills at full stretch. Instead of using his remarkable qualities to guide the kingdom to greatness, he was stuck here teaching a servant how to ride at a sedate trot. If she was his lordship, she’d feel like punching something.

These morning rides had become a fixture. It seemed silly to look back and remember how old Snowflake had intimidated her. His lordship must have thought her a lily-livered creature.

He’d been a patient, kind, effective teacher. If the marquess had deliberately set out to prove he wasn’t a villain, he couldn’t have done a better job. She wasn’t sure how Dorothy had come to accuse him, but Nell found it increasingly impossible to ignore the evidence of her eyes. And heart. She couldn’t believe that the man who put up with her clumsiness as a beginner rider could so callously ruin a young girl. Somewhere someone had made a mistake. She didn’t yet understand how, but she was convinced that in time she would.

No rapacious seducer would miss an opportunity to work his wiles. Yet while Leath had touched her a hundred times to set her right in the saddle, he’d never exceeded proprieties.

The shameful, inescapable truth was that she wished he had.

He drew his horse to a halt and turned to study her with a somber expression. She stopped Adela and spoke impulsively. “My lord, something’s worrying you. Can I help?”

“Now there’s a question.” After a bristling silence, rarer over the last days, he spoke as though raising a matter of cosmic importance. “Yes, Miss Trim, you can. Whether you will or not is another issue.”

Baffled, she watched him dismount with the powerful smoothness that invested all his movements. He crossed to help her from her horse. Today, for the first time, his hands lingered at her waist, and he only released her when she stepped away. Her skin tingled from his touch. When she bumped nervously into her horse, Adela whickered in protest and shifted.

Nell waited for Leath to retreat. Since he’d kissed her, he’d been careful not to frighten her. But he stood breathing unsteadily, staring at her as if wrestling with some massive dilemma. Her misgivings grew. He usually concealed his inner demons.

His great height and heavily muscled body trapped her against her horse. She was close enough to catch his masculine sandalwood scent, always evocative.

She stared into Leath’s face and wondered with a mixture of trepidation and wicked excitement whether this turmoil meant he might kiss her. Something had stirred him up. His eyes glittered. His hands opened and closed at his sides.

“My lord?” Her chin tilted with reckless defiance. She ached for more kisses, whatever that said about her morals or her brains.

To her chagrin, he stepped away to gather the horses’ reins. He led them to the edge of the clearing where they began to nose at the grass.

Turning back to Nell, he folded his arms across his impressive chest. “I have a proposition, Miss Trim.”

Ah. She could guess what this was about. More disappointment soured her belly. Stupidly, briefly, she wished that he was a heartless seducer. At least a heartless seducer wouldn’t leave her yearning. “You want me to continue as your secretary until Mr. Crane returns.”

He looked surprised and a little put out. She couldn’t imagine why when he’d given her the position because he thought she was clever. Even if now, with her heart only slowly resuming its rhythm, she didn’t feel clever. She felt like just another silly girl in thrall to a man who would do her no good.

“Well, yes.”

She perched on a convenient tree stump, resting her
hat on her lap. “You haven’t done anything about finding a replacement, have you?”

“No.” He approached her with that long stride that claimed ownership of the earth beneath his feet. Of course, here on the vast Alloway Chase estate, he did own the earth beneath his feet. A timely reminder of the vast gulf in status separating them.

“If her ladyship agrees, of course I’ll help.” She chanced a smile. “Especially after you’ve taken all this trouble to teach me to ride.”

Without smiling, he stopped a few feet away. “You were a good pupil. And I enjoy our morning rides.”

“So do I,” she admitted. “There’s no need to train someone else when it’s only for another month or so. Mr. Crane tells me that the doctor is pleased with his progress.”

Leath’s brows lowered in the ferocious frown that had once terrified her. “You’ve seen him?”

“Of course.”

Leath flicked his crop against one long muscular thigh. Snap. Snap. Snap. “In his rooms?”

She’d had some odd conversations with the marquess, but this one verged on the bizarre. “He’s not supposed to wander around the house.”

“I don’t want you there.”

She stiffened. “You imagine I make a habit of invading men’s chambers to molest them?”

His jaw set at her reference to the night he’d kissed her. “I don’t want you alone with Crane.”

“Nothing untoward has happened.” She resented her need to defend herself, although Leath was within his rights to doubt her intentions. “He’s bored to distraction. I read aloud and write letters for him and try to ease his idle hours.”

“If you’re easing anyone’s idle hours, choose me,” he growled.

“You don’t have any idle hours,” she said, wondering at his reaction to her visits to Mr. Crane. The secretary had a small apartment on the second floor. She hadn’t ventured beyond his sitting room. Looking at Leath, she decided that he wasn’t likely to appreciate the distinction.

“Perhaps that should change.” Leath stared at her meaningfully. Except that Nell had no idea what meaning he wanted to convey.

She tried to ignore how handsome he was. She’d always thought him striking, but these days, she saw so much character and intelligence, that he was the most remarkable man she’d ever met. She had a sinking feeling that any man she met after she left Alloway Chase would feel second-rate.

“Are you asking me to work longer hours so you can take more leisure time?”

His laugh held an acerbic note. “That’s not what I’m asking. And while your innocence does you credit, it makes me feel like a satyr.”

Oh, dear Lord in heaven…

Nell rose on watery legs and stumbled back. “This isn’t about work, is it?”

“No.”

“You’re asking me…”

It was a novelty to see self-assured James Fairbrother look awkward. He shifted on his feet, then drew up to his impressive height and glared as if about to order her to write a complicated report. “I’m asking you to become my mistress, Miss Trim.”

From the moment he’d mentioned her innocence, she’d guessed what was coming. Still the blunt words shocked her.
Her hat tumbled from nerveless fingers and she regarded him unblinkingly.

When she didn’t respond, he ground his teeth. “You’d like to send me to the devil, I can see.”

She swallowed to moisten a mouth dry with trepidation. “But you want to avoid scandal. It’s why you’re in Yorkshire.”

He gripped his crop in front of him with both hands so hard that surely it must break. “I haven’t reached my decision lightly.”

“I can imagine.” She whirled away and stared blindly into the trees. Nothing in the world felt stable anymore. This was like standing in the middle of an earthquake.