The Hazards Of Hunting A Duke (26 page)

M iddleton did not come to Ava’s suite that night, nor did he invite her to his, but the next morning, she was startled awake by him standing over her bed. She gasped and quickly pushed herself up.

He said nothing, just gazed down at her. He was dressed to go out, his cloak draped over his shoulders.

He held gloves in one hand that he kept slapping into the palm of his other hand.

Ava pushed herself up a little farther and brushed the braid of her hair over her shoulder.

“My lord?”

His gaze swept over her, from the top of her hair to the shape of her feet beneath the bedcovers. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she said uncertainly.

He nodded and slapped the gloves against his hand again. “I’m to Marshbridge,” he said.

“I shall return

in a day or two.” She nodded.

He smiled a little lopsidedly. “I am personally informing you,” he added, and sat on the edge of her bed.

He leaned close to her and looked her in the eye. “You are not to walk to Broderick, madam.”

Ava sighed and rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “I am very well aware of that. You’ve mentioned it more than once.”

Middleton’s gaze roamed over her once more. He lifted his hand, brushed her bare collarbone, then trailed his fingers into the gap of her nightgown, between her breasts.

When he lifted his gaze again, it seemed to be simmering, and Ava suppressed a shiver.

He looked as if he intended to speak, as if he wanted to speak…but he pressed his lips together, put his hand to her cheek, and kissed her.

Carefully, achingly, he kissed her.

Ava wrapped her hand around his wrist, sought to put her other hand on his ch est. But Middleton

stopped her by covering her hand with his and lifting his head. He said nothing; he stood, put his hand to

the crown of her head, and caressed her hair. “Good day,” he said, and strode out, his cloak snapping around his ankles.

When he’d gone out, Ava grabbed her pillow tightly to her, sank back into the feather mattress, and wished again that he would love her, if only a little.

All day long, Ava felt she was being watched by a chicken hawk. Wherever she went, Mr. Dawson or

Miss Hillier seemed to be nearby.

Miss Hillier, Ava was learning, was a very disapproving woman. She kept rattling off all the things a marchioness would never do, such as walk to town. Or feed the chickens. Or tidy up her own room. Or inquire after a foot man and his ankle, which, Miss Hillier assured her, was doing perfectly well.

It was as if Lady Purnam’s spirit had come to reside in Miss Hillier.

With the constant watching after her, Ava felt trapped inside the enormous Broderick Abbey. It was old and drafty and quite damp, but worse than anything, there was absolutely no life there. It seemed as if everyone just toiled in their daily labors.

After luncheon, Ava walked outside. The day was warm and bright, and she wandered in the direction of

the lake she’d seen the first day she had come to Broderick Abbey. It was near the entrance to the estate, she recalled, and indeed, she found it within a mile of the house.

She stood at the edge of the water, breathing in the fresh air.

A flock of swans swimming furiously to the middle of the lake caught her attention, and she saw the

reason for their distress: On the left bank was Edmond Foote. Ava lifted her hand high above her head and waved. Edmond waved back.

He was fishing, she realized, and she decided to have a look at what he’d caught. She walked around the lake, finally reaching him. “Any luck?” she asked as she made her way down to the water’s edge.

“No, mu’um. I think my line is caught,” he said, and tugged at the string. He started to move toward the water’s edge, but Ava quickly stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Your father would not approve of you going into the lake, young man. I’ll fetch it for you,” she said, and

sat down on the rock next to him to pull off her stockings and shoes.

“You mustn’t put bare feet in lake water, mu’um. My mother said cold water on cold feet will catch your death. Didn’t your mother ever tell you so?”

She laughed as she rolled off her stockings. “My mother told me many things, but nev er that.” “Where is your mother?” he asked curiously.

“In heaven, like yours.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Does she know you’ve been sent to Broderick Abbey?”

He made it sound as if she’d been sent against her will, but she smiled and winked at hi m.

“In a way, I

think she does.”

“I think mine does, too,” he said with a firm nod of his head.

Ava stood up, picked up her skirts so that her legs were exposed from the knees down, and waded into

the lake. The water was clear but frigid, and she winced with each step. The fishing line had caught on some debris, and with a bit of a tug, Ava was able to free it, much to the delight of young Edmond. He pulled in the line as Ava waded back to the shore.

“Thank you, marchioness!” he said, picking up his bucket. “Wait!” she cried, still wading in. “Where are you off to?” “Home!” he shouted, and skipped off.

“That’s a fine how do you do,” she muttered to herself, and took a step, sinking into mud up to her ankle. Drat. She pulled her foot free and stepped out of the water.

“Good day!”

With a gasp, Ava inadvertently dropped her skirt and looked up. A woman in a very fetching riding habit was atop her horse, on the rise above the lake, waving a gloved hand at Ava.

“Oh dear God,” Ava whispered, and glanced down at her skirt. The hem was soaked and stained brown now.

“Good day, good day!” the woman said again as she sent her horse down the slope. She was a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty—the sort, Ava thought, that was often painted around London.

“May I introduce myself? I am Lady Kettle. My late husband’s estate borders yours.”

“How do you do,” Ava said. “I am —”

“Oh my goodness, I know who you are!” she cried cheerfully. “I would have made proper introduction

at your wedding, but I only just yesterday returned from Scotland.” “Ah,” Ava said.

Lady Kettle’s horse stopped just above Ava, and Lady Kettle smiled down at her, her gaze taking in

Ava’s gown.

“You will forgive me,” Ava said hastily. “I was helping the gamekeeper’s son free his fishing line.” “Who?” Lady Kettle asked, peering around the lake.

“The gamekeeper’s son,” Ava said, and glanced over her shoulder. Around a bend in the lake, Edmond had stopped to throw rocks at the swans.

“I wasn’t aware the gam ekeeper had a son,” Lady Kettle said absently. “I hope you won’t mind my intrusion, Lady Middleton,” she said, turning her attention to Ava again, “but I saw your handsome

husband this morning and he urged me to come and make your acquaintance.”

Ava put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun as she looked up at Lady Kettle.

“You saw him this morning?”

“Mmm, we breakfasted,” she said, nodding, and at Ava’s look of confusion, she flicked her wrist and said cheerfully, “Oh, I’ve known him for a ges, since we were children. We were often in one another’s

company coming up.”

Ava was still having trouble comprehending that her husband had left her this morning to breakfast with

Lady Kettle. To breakfast with beautiful Lady Kettle.

“Oh, I mustn’t forget, I’ve some medicinals from the surgeon for your footman. They should ease his pain

a bit.”

“Oh,” Ava said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “He told you of our accident.”

“I heard of it in Broderick,” Lady Kettle corrected her. “Yo u did?”

Lady Kettle laughed at her astonishment. “We are a small parish, Lady Middleton. Word travels very fast. Almost as fast, I suppose, as it does in London.”

“How remarkable,” Ava said, meaning it.

“Poor Middleton is quite worried about you. ‘She wa lked all the way to Broderick,’ ” she said, mimicking him.

Ava tried to smile, but there was something unsettling about Lady Kettle. Perhaps it was that her husband found time to call and breakfast with her when he might have breakfasted with his wife. Pe rhaps it was

that during their breakfast, he talked to Lady Kettle of his worry about his wife. Whatever it was, Ava suddenly felt very much the outsider.

“I thought to invite you to have a ride in the near future. The weather has been glorious and there are so many pleasing vistas around the abbey.”

Of course Lady Kettle would know of the vistas around the abbey. Ava, on the other hand, was hardly allowed to walk to the lake unescorted.

“Would you like that?”

“I would,” Ava said, but then remembered th at her husband had yet to teach her. “That is, when my husband teaches me how to ride.”

“You could have no better instructor. I speak from experience —he taught me,” Lady Kettle said, and laughed gaily. “And he still insists on instructing me, even though I am an accomplished rider.”

Ava’s laugh sounded forced. She could well imagine that he had taught Lady Kettle. She was beautiful, and quite cheerful. And her riding habit, Ava thought, was to be envied.

“Well, then, I will leave you to your fishing, Lady Middleton. May I call again?” “Of course.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I can scarcely wait to tell Middleton that we’ve met and I find you

absolutely charming.”

Ava smiled, folding her arms tightly across her, and hoped that Lady Kettle would at least leave out the part about her sloshing about in the lake. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

“I look forward to a time we can come to know one another.”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Ava said, wishi ng she’d never come to the lake, that she’d never taken off her shoes or her stockings.

Feeling at sixes and sevens, Ava put on her stockings and shoes and made her way back to the abbey, where the sight of a plain black coach on the drive relieved and re juvenated her at once. Sally!

By the time Ava had reached the drive, Sally had climbed, rather lazily, out of the coach, put her hands to

her back, and stretched backward. “Bloody awful road,” she said as Ava bounced to a halt before her, just ahead of Da wson. She glanced at Ava’s gown. “What have you done to your gown, mu’um?”

“I’m so glad to see you, Sally,” Ava said, and threw her arms around her lady’s maid to Dawson’s complete shock, judging by his expression. She let go and turned to Dawson.

“Might I introduce you to

my lady’s maid, Miss Pierce.”

Sally curtsied. Dawson looked at her, then at Ava. And the hem of her dress. “Very good, madam,” he said, as if he didn’t quite know what to say, and pointed a footman to Sally’s bags. “I will show her to

her quarters.”

“In a moment,” Ava said. “I should like a word with her first.” She linked her arm through Sally’s, tugging

her along.

As they stepped into the abbey, Sally pulled back and let out a low whistle. “Quite grand, ain’t it?” she said, her voice full of awe as she turned around in a circle.

“Quite,” Ava said, and grabbed Sally’s hand. “Come on, then —there will be ample opportunity to gape

at it.” She pulled Sally up the curving staircase, down the long corridor to her suite, opened the door, pushed Sally through, and shut it behind her.

“Will my chamber look like this?”

“I’ve no idea,” Ava admitted. “Never mind that —thank God you’ve come, Sally.”

“Oh?” Sally asked as she wandered about, her hands trailing across the smooth finish of the furniture. “ What’s happened, then? Hasn’t your handsome man done his duty by you?”

Ava’s blush made Sally laugh as she paused in front of a mirror to check her hair. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed as she fussed with a curl. “He’s not yet come to your bed?”

“Yes, of course he has!” Ava said adamantly, but instantly softened. “Only once, the first night. And then

he went to London. And wh en he returned he said he had correspondence. And now he is in

Marshbridge to buy a cow or some such thing.”

Sally stopped her nosing about and looked at Ava over her shoulder, her brow furrowed.

“He’s left his bride to buy a cow? Hmm. I’d think a marquis would have someone to see to buying his cows.”

She was missing the point. “I think, Sally, there is a bit of a…problem,” Ava clarified.

“Oh,” Sally said. She glided to the chaise before the hearth, and fell onto it. She pressed the tips of her

fingers together and studied Ava thoughtfully over the tops of them. “You weren’t missish, were you? A

lot of crying and carrying on?” “No!” Ava exclaimed.

“Are you quite certain?” Sally asked, her eyes squinting suspiciously at Ava. “You don’t look as if you could bear hardship very well.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Ava said, offended, “but I swear it, I didn’t cry.

I…I rather liked

it.”

That earned a howl of laughter from Sally. “By God, I’ve never heard of a woman who liked her first time in a man’s bed!”

“Sssh!” Ava hissed at her, and slapped her feet off the end of the chaise. She sat down, her face flaming

—which Sally seemed to enjo y—and worked up her courage to ask Sally for her help.

“You can tell me what to do, can’t you?”

Sally thought about it a moment and then nodded. “Indeed, I can help you, mu’um. But you must do exactly as I say. And I won’t abide a lot of speculation as to where I might have learned this or that. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Ava said earnestly.

Sally suddenly sat up, leaned forward, and took Ava’s hands in hers. “Above all else, you must never—” The knock at the door startled them both, and Sally quickly scrambled t o her feet, inadvertently kicking

Ava as she did.

Ava jumped up, too, and whirled around to the door just as it opened and Miss Hillier came sailing through. She looked at Ava, then at Sally. “My lady?” she asked, her voice belying the look of displeasure on her face. “I understand your lady

’s maid has come.”

“Yes, of course,” Ava said. “Allow me to introduce Sally Pierce. Sally, this is Miss Hillier, the housekeeper.” She said a silent prayer of thanks that Sally actually curtsied as she ought to have done.