Taming the Duke (2 page)

Oh, Father, how could you?
She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. Fighting for control, she took a deep breath. “I’m truly sorry that your horse is injured, but I’m certain that you can afford more than your share of healers.” She took another fortifying breath. “But there’s no way I’ll consider your offer. My answer is no.” She gave a lingering glance at Cinnamon Rose. “And take your bribe along with you.”

She strode purposefully toward the path. Dalton’s long strides quickly caught up to her.

“It is said that your sweet nature can tame savage beasts, my lady,” Dalton drawled. “So maybe you refuse me, not because you are unkind, but because of my wealth. I assure you, my horse’s misery is as great as if he belonged to a beggar man. Or is your compassionate nature only a rumor, then?”

Alicia stopped and turned to face him. She shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand. “Your wealth has nothing to do with it, your grace. And I find such your suggestion offensive.”

“Offensive?” His brows formed a V.

Alicia’s patience was at an end. “Do you pretend to know nothing of your mother’s part in my fall from grace?”

Dalton stood, his mouth open. “What the deuce are you talking about?”

Alicia took a deep breath. Obviously, her loss
of reputation was such a trifle to him that he’d forgotten all about it. “Very well, if you wish to play sport with me, I’ll tell you why I won’t honor my father’s arrangement.” She brushed back an auburn tendril from her cheek. “Only a scoundrel would forget what your mother did to me. And I don’t honor arrangements with scoundrels.” She turned and dashed along the path, but his long strides soon overtook her.

“Do you know that if you were a man, I could challenge you to a duel for besmirching my mother’s honor?”

She paused. Whether it was the injured tone in his voice, or the very fact that Wexton refused to understand it was
she
who was the injured party, Alicia couldn’t ignore his charge.

“A duel, is it?” She glanced up at him, wiping her hands together in glee. “How I’d relish to meet you on the field of honor. Oh, if only I could run you through—”

“I believe you would!”

“But you’re not worth dulling my blade,” she snapped. “Now please stop following me. Our business is concluded.”

Dalton clenched his teeth as he watched Lady Alicia stride past the rose garden, her long chestnut hair cascading down her back. Damn, what was all that breeze about his mother causing her to fall from grace? A scoundrel, she’d called him. Why, the woman was dicked in the nob!

Cinnamon Rose raised her head and whinnied a low horse laugh. “Ah, you think it’s funny, too?” he
said, grabbing the horse’s halter as he led the mare along the path. He wasn’t sure whether to confront Alicia’s father now or later. Yet Dalton surmised that confronting her father was exactly what Alicia was planning to do this very minute.

No, Dalton could wait until she faced her father, all tearful and dithery, most likely. Before he left, he should check out the horseflesh in their stable to be sure what he had heard was true. Her father might be a baron, but the Spencer family was purse-pinched and in dire need of new sporting blood for their stable. Yet if it was true, why had Lady Alicia thrown a rub in the way? Why, indeed?

He’d heard she was a tempting armful, but no one warned him of her temper and headstrong ways. Not to mention her passionate spirit, which sparked the beauty’s dark eyes with fire.

Why hadn’t she married? Perhaps her young man had died in the war. The thought reminded Dalton of his older brother, Drake, a soldier among many who had met the same fate.

He must ask his sister, Olivia, about Alicia Spencer’s background. He should have done so earlier, but he’d never expected that she’d refuse him.

Anger. The air was still charged with it. Yet her father had shown no animosity toward Dalton. What had he said to fire up such resentment in her?

Damn the luck. Better to use his time thinking of another way to coax Lady Alicia into seeing his stallion, Bashshar. Dalton knew that one glance at the pitiful animal, and even the hard-hearted Alicia would melt and want to help him.

Dalton’s thoughts wandered back to the lady. He gathered the lead rope and led the mare toward the carriage. “Come, Cinnamon. We’ve not been beaten yet. Like brother Drake used to say, when you’ve drawn your last ace, it’s time to play the one up your sleeve.”

“Hounds of Jericho!” Alicia’s father pounded his fist on the desktop. “You’ll march right back and apologize to him. Do you hear, Daughter?”

“I can’t believe you would ask such a thing of me.” Alicia paced in a tight circle. “I refuse, and you can’t make me, Father,” she shouted, surprising them both. She had never raised her voice to him before, but this time, she was filled with a sense of betrayal. Her father cared so little for her feelings that she didn’t care what he thought of her.

Her father’s face colored a deep puce. “Very well, Alicia. I’ll give you a choice.” His heavy jowls shook with anger. “Widower Sedwick Rollins has asked for your hand. If you refuse to tend the duke’s stallion, then I’ll be forced to tell Rollins that you’ll marry as soon as a special license can be obtained.”

“You’re bluffing!” She bit back a laugh. “Rollins hasn’t a sixpence to scratch with—”

“Don’t force me to—”

“Some basket you’d be in with a son-in-law like Sedwick Rollins. With those twelve children and not a feather to fly with, he’ll not be content to live down by the river in that sod hut if he marries me.” Alicia couldn’t keep her face straight. “He’ll move his brood in here faster than the scullery lads steals
Cook’s pies left cooling on the windowsill. And you’ll not keep your brandy long with Rollins dipping deep in your jugs.”

Her father’s watery eyes didn’t blink as he stared long and hard. Then he drew a parchment from his desktop and grabbed his inkpot and quill.

She wet her lips, her mouth as dry as the cold ashes in the fireplace. “What are you doing?”

His mouth firmed into a hard line, his pen scratching across the rough paper. Alicia watched as her father’s large, spidery black script began to fill one side of the page. She glanced at the letter addressed to Sedwick Rollins. Alicia’s heart leaped in her throat. “You can’t go through with this outrage.”

“I can and I will. Rollins has inherited a small purse and will be moving to Dorset. You’ll be leaving with him unless you come to your senses.”

“Mother will never allow this.”

“Your mother already knows and understands the necessity.”

“I’m going to speak with her anyway.”

“Your mother has nothing to say about the matter. You will go through with the arrangement I’ve made with Wexton, or you’ll pack your things and be gone from here by nightfall.”

Alicia had never seen her father like this before. A heavy weight pounded in her chest. She drew her hand to her mouth, but the question wedged in her throat. “Why, Father? Why are you doing this?”

“Because we’re in quite deep. I’ve borrowed against Marston Heath, and…” He closed his eyes,
and she watched him fight to control himself. Once again, she sensed that he had gambled heavily and lost.

“You’re the only one who can bail us out of this sinking ship,” he said, his voice strained.

“You know what Wexton’s mother did to me, Father. How can you—”

“Damned what she did to you, Daughter. The boot is quite on the other leg, now. It’s time that family paid you back for what the dowager did. Cinnamon Rose is worth five times the horseflesh we can afford, and we have the advantage because Wexton is soft on this stallion of his. Now carry on with your part of the bargain. I’ve negotiated a price from the duke. All you have to do is cure his horse, and we’ll be in the money.”

Words were useless. There was nothing she could say to refute the value of Cinnamon Rose and the importance the mare would bring to their stable.

Her father’s cheeks puffed with agitation as he waited for her answer. Alicia sighed. She might as well talk to a stump. “You win, Father.” She ran to the study door and burst from the room.

The long hallway and the staircase at the end blurred into a watery splotch as tears welled in her eyes. Hiking her skirts, she dashed through the house, too upset to speak to her mother. First, she needed time alone. Alicia tore open the front door and sped toward the quiet sanctity of the herb garden.

Chapter Two

L
acy umbels of angelica blossoms waved gently amid the plants shading the curved garden bench. Alicia sat down, her brow furrowed. What was the use? She might as well be a prisoner, for all the say she held in her life. In spite of the active role she took in running the manor, she was required, like her mother, to obey her father, regardless of his foolhardy decisions.

Her thought went back to Wexton’s stallion. If the horse was suffering, then she wanted to help. Healing wounded beasts was her salvation, her greatest pleasure. While she remained at Havencrest, she’d focus only on the horse.

But what if Wexton’s mother, the dowager duchess, lived at Havencrest? She would consider Alicia a servant, a woman toiling with her hands. The dowager would consider Alicia’s work with animals proof that she wasn’t fit for Society.

Alicia swept her hand gently across the clumps of frilly, green leaves at her feet. The air was charged with mint, lemon verbena and scented geranium.
She felt her anger change into practical determination. Maybe the dowager had remained in London instead of returning with her son to the country for the summer. Especially since the duke would be at Havencrest until his stallion improved. The idea gave her hope.

Alicia passively swatted a flowering stalk of comfrey, the cloud of yellow pollen dusting her skirts. But why should she care who would be at Havencrest? She hadn’t deserved to be banned from society, and she would face the dowager or anyone else if need be. But she wasn’t foolish enough to go looking for trouble.

A soft nicker, then a velvet nose snuggled against her ear. Startled, Alicia turned as Cinnamon Rose nibbled her neck. Despite her mood, she laughed. “Have you come to plead your master’s case, too?” Alicia asked, rubbing the mare’s satiny ear.

The horse tossed her head playfully. Indeed, the animal was magnificent. She pressed her cheek against the mare’s velvet neck. “You needn’t plead, pretty thing. I’ll help your friend.”

Alicia stood, still petting Cinnamon Rose’s reddish-gold neck, when she noticed Wexton leading a handsome curricle with a matched pair of white Lusitano horses from the livery building. She warily narrowed her gaze at him.

“Did your master put you up to finding me and giving me a kiss, Cinnamon Rose?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. Alicia grabbed the mare’s halter and strolled across the lawn to meet him.

The duke appeared not to notice her as he drove
the carriage in her direction. When the rig came to within a short distance from where she stood, Wexton stopped the team, his face revealing no emotion. Instead of a last-minute appeal, which she had expected, Wexton remained silent as his gaze fixed with hers. Yet the effect of his mesmerizing scrutiny couldn’t have been more calamitous to her nerves. Shock waves from his beseeching blue eyes made her insides feel jittery and her knees weaken.

Alicia steeled herself. “I admire a well-trained horse, but to have one seek me out and give me a kiss shows your hand as a spectacular trainer.” Any chance that the trick was a coincidence was erased by the answering twinkle in Wexton’s eyes.

“I’ve reconsidered my decision to help your stallion, Bashshar,” Alicia said, hoping the statement sounded as though it was her idea. “You can expect me to arrive at Havencrest by the first of next week. I expect to have private quarters where I can isolate myself and Bashshar away from people. I refuse to be put up in the main house. I need nothing fancy, a suite prepared above the carriage house will do.” She met his attentive gaze. “Are there any questions concerning my terms?”

Wexton studied her with an interested look. “What changed your mind so quickly, may I ask?”

Alicia braced her shoulders. What changed her mind, indeed. No doubt he’d known that her family was purse-pinched, and her father would never allow her to back out of the chance to own such an expensive mare as Cinnamon Rose.

“I’m not doing this favor for you, your grace. I’m doing this for your stallion.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said finally. “I’ll leave Cinnamon Rose here, at your stable. If you journey to Havencrest, regardless of your decision to remain and help my stallion, your kindness earns you the mare.”

“Take Cinnamon Rose with you. A finer animal I’ve never seen. Although my father is lord of the manor, he allows me to manage the few horses that make up our breeding stable. I’ll add to my horses quite nicely without any help from you.”

Dalton caught the mare’s line as she tossed it to him. He sat, dazed, while Alicia raised her head and swept across the lawn toward the manor, as proud as any English filly.

He felt as though he’d been properly put in his place, but what the hell had he done to deserve it? He rubbed his chin as he watched her stroll along the drive. Egad, he’d never met a more cantankerous wench. Were all the females in her father’s household as disagreeable and cranky as Alicia? If so, no wonder old man Spencer found comfort in the gin bottle.

Candlelight glowed from the massive, tiered chandeliers in the great salon of Havencrest. Ionic columns graced the second-floor balustrade where Dalton stood, gazing down upon the couples dancing quadrilles to the lilting music.

For the past week, Dalton had thought of nothing but this day, when Lady Alicia would arrive at
Havencrest and finally meet Bashshar. The carpenters had been hammering day and night to finish the quarters Alicia had requested. If only she could cure Bashshar. His gut clenched again when he thought of the animal’s worsening anxiety. Was he selfish to try to keep Bashshar alive?

His gaze swept the faces of his mother’s guests for the week-long country party. How he detested these boring affairs. If he hadn’t expected Lady Alicia today, he would be long gone, buried with work, overseeing the fields, anywhere as long as he was away from his mother and the trappings of Society.