The Hazards Of Hunting A Duke (33 page)

“This marriage is rotten because it’s not a marriage!” she cried. “It’s a business arrangement!”

“Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly cold. “It is indeed a business arrangement because that is precisely what you wanted! I warned you, madam —do not ask of me what I cannot give you!”

Tears began to blur her vision. “Is it because you love someone else?” “No!” he said, his voice full of exasperation. “I love no one.”

“Augh!” she cried, and ran around the foot of the bed, trying to run past him, but Middleton caught her arm. “Let go!” she cried.

“You knew what this was!” he bellowed. “You knew from the moment we met what this was!” “But it changed!” she cried, trying to yank free. “You cannot deny that it has changed!”

“Ava, listen to me,” he said, grabbing her oth er arm and forcing her to stop squirming.

“We are comfortable together. That’s really quite good!”

She wrenched free of his grip and lunged for the door.

“Ava!” he shouted after her, but she had already run through the door, wanting to be as far away from him as she possibly could be.

Behind her, Jared stared at the open door, then turned and slammed his fist into the dressing room door.

He knew precisely what Ava wanted, and he wanted nothing more than to give it to her.

He just didn’t know if he could. He didn’t trust his feelings and was far more comfortable with their arrangement.

Frankly, he’d been feeling quite lost of late. He enjoyed Ava’s company in a way he would not have

thought possible. He found her witty and smart, willing to help out where most women would not deign to

lift a finger.

Ava’s allure was in her bright, and perhaps somewhat naïve, outlook on the world. He found it utterly charming, a refreshing perspective from the way he’d come to view the world. He adored her spirit, he

did. But he didn’t know if he loved her, if he was even capable of it. He’d only loved once in his life, and that had ended disastrously. He had learned, a long time ago, that if one invested too much of oneself in another, someo ne or something could take it all away.

There was the preservation of the self in not falling in love.

Ava, he thought wearily, would learn it one day as well as he had.

T he next day, the rains had stopped and, according to Dawson, Midd leton had ridden to Broderick very early. Ava was glad for it —she didn’t want to see him until she had managed to find her way and a

method of enduring her marriage.

She took a long walk, up to the old castle ruins. As it happened, Edmond Foote was there, brandishing a wooden sword. “

Friend or foe?” he called down to her. “Friend!”

He nodded, and carefully slipped his sword into a cloth scabbard he’d obviously sewn together. “May I enter?” she asked from the bottom of the old castle walls.

He gave her a beautifully charming smile and bowed low, sweeping his hand grandly to the ruins. “My castle is yours.”

She climbed up and saw that he’d been dragging rocks around to form the outline of rooms. “Ah. You are rebuilding the castle, are you? I must be standing in the kitchen.”

“You are standing in the bailey,” he said, as if that were obvious from the outline o f rocks. “Oh,” she said, and stepped over the rocks. “And now?”

“Now you are in the kitchen.” He turned around and pointed to a place he’d marked with rocks. “That is

the great room, where the king and his knights decide who they will kill,” he said with relish. “Ooh,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Giants and that sort of thing?”

For some reason, that made Edmond laugh. He tossed his head back and laughed loudly, his hazel eyes squinting with mirth. And in that moment, Ava knew why the boy wasn’t allowed at the abbey, or in Broderick. She knew why he was a virtual prisoner of the forest.

And she suddenly hated Middleton for it.

Frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t seen it before now, but the child was clearly Middleton’s son. He had the same hazel eyes, the same mouth. And when he laughed, he looked just like his father.

Nevertheless, she was appalled by the recognition, horrified that Middleton had treated his son so

abominably, and even angrier that a man of his position and wealth wouldn’t do bette r by his son, illegitimate or not.

As she stood there, smiling and nodding as Edmond pointed out the rest of his rooms, she wondered if there was anything about marriage that could be recommended. For the moment, she couldn’t possibly think of a thing.

On the following day, when Lord and Lady Middleton were to leave for Harrison’s, Ava finally appeared

(having claimed a headache at supper last night), dressed in a traveling gown, her bags in place, her lady’

s maid smiling provocatively. Apparently, Ja red thought, his wife was ready to make the journey east.

Nevertheless, he approached her cautiously in the event her mood changed as suddenly as it had two nights past. “You seem ready for a sporting weekend, are you not, madam —er, Ava?”

“I am indeed. Jared,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

He almost smiled. If there was one thing on which he could depend, it was that Ava Fairchild would rebound from any setback, perceived or real, large or small. “Splendid,”

he said. “Then we may proceed. The rain has stopped and it looks to be a glorious da y.”

“Doesn’t it,” she said, and turned away from him to fit her bonnet on her head.

He watched her fussing with it. The thought occurred to him that he was proud of her, proud to present

her as his wife. Only a few short months ago, he hardly noticed her at all. And now…now he wanted to touch her, to feel her skin. But he dared not —she looked as if she might punch him square in the mouth if

he so much as thought it.

She slept for most of the journey until he woke her when they were nearing Harrison’s estate. She came

up with a start, wide-eyed and absolutely beautiful. She leaned forward to see out the window, then reared back, pinched her cheeks, smoothed her hair, and turned toward the window to watch the scenery. Jared didn’t press her —he looked out the opposite window.

There were carriages everywhere, footmen running back and forth, gentlemen and ladies standing in the drive and walking up the entry steps.

His coachman barreled around the circle, coming to an abrupt halt before the doors as two liveried footmen raced down the steps of the house to assist in helping them down.

Jared descended first, and turned, one hand behind his back, one hand held up to Ava. As he helped her out, Harrison appeared at the top of the steps and hurried down, his smile big and warm. Behind him, Stanhope chose to make a more subdued appearance by merely walking down the steps.

Harrison grabbed Jared in a big hug, squeezing tightly and clapping him soundly on the back, and remarked that marriage suited him very well.

Jared didn’t bother to respond to Harrison, for his friend had already turned to Ava, grabbing her up in a bear hug, too, squeezing the breath from her by the look of it.

“Harrison, old chap,” Jared said, putting a hand to his shoulder. “Please don’t smothe r my wife.”

With a laugh, Harrison let her go. “Lady Middleton, you are indeed looking quite healthy and happy in

spite of the nuptials,” he said with a playful wink.

Unfortunately, Harrison had no idea how true that was. “And how do you find Broderick Abbey?” he asked. “Too large,” Jared said.

“And drafty,” she added, her smile seeming forced. Harrison howled.

Stanhope put his arm around Ava and ushered her away. “Allo w me to rescue you from an ardent

admirer,” he said. “Harrison has reserved a special room for Lord and Lady Middleton, on the west side,

so you’ll be warm, and painted a bright yellow, so you will be gay. Francis will show you up,” he added, motioning for Harrison’s butler to see them up.

“Have a bit of a rest, why don’t you?” Harrison suggested behind her. “We’ll all gather for wine at eight, supper at ten, and the hunt will begin at daybreak on the morrow.

Middleton,” he said, turning from Ava

and winking slyly at Jared, “I’ve a horse the likes of which you’ve not seen. She stands fourteen hands high, is as broad as a river. Would you like to see her?”

Jared glanced at Ava, who shrugged. “I will be quite all right.” “You’re certain?”

“Of course,” she said, already climbing the stairs, Sally close behind her. Harrison’s butler hurried to catch up to them, and Ava disappeared inside without looking back.

Harrison waited until she’d stepped inside before he turned, withdrew three cheroots from his pocket, and handed one to Jared, another to Stanhope. “I bought her in Madrid, just last year. Had a Spaniard

train her for the hunt. She’s unbeatable,” he said, and gestured for them to walk to the stables.

Harrison had always been something of a horseman —racing ponies, big grays to pull his carriages, steeds

for battle in the event he was ever called to war —and he was no less enthusiastic about this hunter. Jared pocketed the cheroot and listened to Harrison talk about his new horse.

He wasn’t exaggerating—the hunter was a beauty, and Harrison was positively giddy with glee as he

stroked her nose. Jared appreciated horses —and especially good horses —but not as much as Harrison.

He bored of the fawning after a few minutes of it and stepped back, admiring the other horses stabled there as Harrison captured Stanhope and continued his intricate review of the new horse.

As Jared looked down the stalls, his eye caught sight of a familiar shape, and he turned fully.

Miranda was watching him, smiling softly. She was wea ring a riding habit, her long dark red hair braided down her back, her hat tipped at a jaunty angle. She was holding a crop in her hand, and tapped it

against her leg as the corners of her lips curled up into a sultry smile.

He started to move—to where, he didn’t really know—but Harrison’s hand to his arm stopped him. Startled, Jared looked at Harrison and was surprised at the look on his face.

“I didn’t know she was here,” he said. “I asked you here but to see my horse.”

“I know—”

“No,” Harrison said, shaking his head as he glanced down the stables at Miranda. “We’ve known each

other since we were lads, eh?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Jared. “I wasn’t aware she’d come with

Westfall, or I certainly would have stopped her —”

“What?” Jared asked, having to force himself to focus on what Harrison was saying.

“There is nothing more between us.”

Harrison colored slightly. “It’s none of my affair, Middleton —but I’m not party to it.”

Jared was shocked. He and Harrison had been frie nds for years and never once, not once in all those years, had Harrison ever voiced his disagreement with something Jared did.

For him to do so now pushed Jared under the surface.

Harrison obviously saw his surprise —he glanced sheepishly at his feet, then at Miranda from the corner

of his eye. “I happen to believe a vow taken before God should not be broken. Say what you will, but I believe it.” And with that he turned away from Jared and began to walk toward the stable doors, where Stanhope had already es caped. “Wine at eight!” he said over his shoulder.

Jared didn’t respond—he was stung by Harrison’s admonishment that he be faithful to his wife. He had been faithful, hadn’t even thought of Miranda since he’d decided to wed Ava. Yet his very best friend t hought very little of his integrity. But why shouldn’t he?

More than once, Jared had bemoaned the fact

that marriage would limit his ability to bed whomever he pleased.

He glanced again at Miranda, a woman who, he’d come to realize, thought more of his title and money

than she did of him. She was walking toward him, her hips moving seductively, her smile sultry, and all he could think was, what had he ever seen in her?

She stopped just inches from him and sank into a deep curtsy, her eyes never leaving hi s.

She rose up, gave him a knowing smile, and shifted almost imperceptibly closer to him.

“You look very well.”

She looked older than he remembered, her skin a bit sallow. Not fresh. Not Ava. “How are you faring?” she asked, her smile fading, her eyes sea rching his face.

How was he faring? He was miserable. He didn’t really know who he was any longer.

“I’m fine.”

“I miss you terribly. I can’t bear to be apart from you, Jared.”

He recoiled at the sound of his name on her breath. She used it easily, as easily as he used hers—and yet

he could scarcely bring himself to say Ava’s name aloud. Ava was right.

That simple act, that intimate knowledge should be reserved for those he loved , and he hadn’t had the courage to admit that perhaps he truly loved Ava.

Miranda was smiling up at him now, her eyes full of hope. She glanced around the stables, as did Jared, and saw only a stableboy, brushing down a horse. “Perhaps we could walk,” she said, moving closer. “ Someplace we might be alone and talk?”

“There is nothing to say.” He couldn’t stop looking at her, trying to imagine himself with her. He couldn’t understand why, since he’d been gone from London, he’d felt sheer joy some days and sheer despair

other days. He couldn’t understand how a few short months could change everything and feel like a lifetime.

“Have you received my letters? I wonder what you are doing every moment of every day…and night,”

she added, letting her gaze drift down his body.

Where he once might have enjoyed illicit banter, now he found it obscenely faithless to his wife.

“You remember our nights, don’t you, my love? Or has she captured your nocturnal imagination?”

His blood began to rise with anger. “You hav e no right,” he said low, “to inquire about the private affairs

of my marriage.”

Miranda gasped. And then she laughed, the sound bursting forth from her lips. “Oh my!”

she cried, laughing. “Your marriage? She’s a poppet, darling, a girl with a womb. She’s not a marriage.”