The Marriage Wager (16 page)

His parents were rather stiff, formal people. There was nothing in them of the easy, friendly manner that characterized Dominic and Francesca. But a difference in personality was often in evidence among family members, and it did not usually bring about the sort of distance Constance saw between Dominic and his parents. She had taken note of it throughout the week. Dominic was rarely with either Lord or Lady Selbrooke, and on those occasions when he had been in their company, he had remained there only a short time. At supper, he sat at the end of the table near his father, but that was only because the place cards situated him there. Never had Constance seen him carrying on what she would have termed an easy conversation with the older man. Anyone watching them would have supposed them mere acquaintances.

Something, she thought, must have caused a rift between them, but she had no idea what it had been. Dominic, for all his ease in talking, rarely spoke about the past or his family. The few times she had heard him mention the past, he had talked about his regiment and the days he had spent in the Peninsular Campaign. His memories of his fellow Hussars seemed much warmer than those of his family. Constance could not help but wonder what had happened.

They made their way back toward the house late in the afternoon and stopped at a small ornamental lake that lay within sight of Redfields. A summer house sat at the far end of the lake, with a pleasant path leading all the way around the small body of water.

They found two footmen and two maids in the summer house, putting the finishing touches on the afternoon tea that they had brought down in large wicker baskets from the main house. They had laid snowy damask coverings on two wooden trestle tables. On one table stood a large urn of tea, and on either side lay platters of tea cakes, biscuits, scones and crustless wedges of sandwiches.

After the afternoon’s ride, the food was more than welcome, and everyone dug in eagerly. They sat around for some time afterward, lazily talking. Sir Philip and his sisters wanted to try out the two small boats moored at the pier beside the lakehouse, and young Parke Kenwick, who seemed rather smitten with Miss Lydia, volunteered to make a fourth with them.

Shortly afterward, Francesca persuaded Muriel to accompany her on a short stroll around the lake. Muriel seemed somewhat reluctant, casting an eye toward the other end of the table, where Dominic was sitting, surrounded by his friends. However, Francesca paid no attention to her hesitation and linked her arm through Muriel’s, professing her desire to get Miss Rutherford’s opinion of the decoration scheme she was planning for her music room. Muriel could do little but give in gracefully.

Next to Constance, Lady Calandra smothered a giggle. “Francesca seems to have developed an inordinate fondness for Muriel.”

Constance glanced at her and found Calandra’s expressive dark eyes dancing with laughter. She could not keep from breaking into a grin, as well. “Indeed, she has.”

“Poor Muriel, I am sure it must be horribly frustrating for her. She wants to hang on Dominic’s arm, but she is too much of a snob not to be flattered by Lady Haughston’s attentions.”

Constance did not know what to say to the young woman. Calandra seemed to have assessed the situation quite correctly, but Constance was unsure whether the girl was aware of the reasons for Francesca’s actions.

“Well, we must make use of the time that Francesca has sacrificed herself to give you,” Calandra went on merrily. She turned toward her host. “Dominic, you promised earlier to show us the promontory.”

“Of course.” Dominic smiled at Calandra. “You have only to ask.” He cast a look toward the lake, where Francesca was slowly strolling arm in arm with Miss Rutherford. “Yes, I suppose now would be a good time.”

“But what about Lady Haughston?” asked Alfred Penrose, who had, Constance suspected, developed something of a crush on Francesca. “Will she not want to come?”

“Oh, no,” Calandra assured him quickly. “I feel sure she would not wish it. She has seen it many times, and she is still feeling rather weak from her illness. In fact, she might appreciate it if you were to join her and Miss Rutherford on their stroll.”

“Why, yes, I suppose I could.” Penrose looked quite taken with the idea, promptly standing up and excusing himself.

Once again Constance and Calandra exchanged glances, and it was all Constance could do not to laugh. “You wicked girl,” she murmured to Calandra. “Lady Francesca will repay you for that.”

Lady Calandra giggled. “I could not resist. Anyway, having spent the afternoon in Muriel’s company, I suspect that Francesca will be thrilled to have anyone else to talk to.”

After a bit of discussion, it was arranged that Mr. Carruthers and Mr. Willoughby, along with Constance’s cousin Margaret, Constance and Lady Calandra would join the expedition to the promontory to see the view of the surrounding countryside. They set out immediately, curving away from the main house and entering the woods on the northern edge.

Calandra rode beside Constance for a time. Just behind them, Margaret was flirting madly with the blond, rather shy Carruthers. The other men led the way, winding through the trees. The ground soon began to rise, slowing them even further.

“Is Francesca helping you or her brother—or both of you?” Calandra asked.

“What? Why would she be helping me?”

The young woman smiled. “My brother is convinced that she is trying to make a match between you and Dominic.”

Constance blushed. “I am sure she is not.”

Calandra shrugged. “Well, Sinclair is not what I would call an expert in matters of the heart. After all, he is nearing forty, and he hasn’t yet come close to marriage. Still, I must say, there is something about the way that Dominic looks at you….”

The little mare skittered, and Constance looked down, realizing that she had clenched the reins too tightly. She forced her fingers to relax. “I am sure you must be wrong. Lord Leighton has expressed no preference, said nothing…”

“Dominic would not do anything improper, I am sure,” Calandra told her. “He is all a gentleman should be—no matter what sort of rumors you may have heard about him. They say he has lived rather wildly in London the past few years, but I know there is nothing bad about him.” She paused, then added with a small smile, “I confess that when I was younger, I developed a mad crush on him.”

“You did?” Constance looked at her. It occurred to her, with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, that Lady Calandra, the sister of a wealthy and powerful duke, would make an excellent match for Lord Leighton.

“Oh, yes. You should have seen him in that Hussars uniform. I can tell you, he cut quite a figure. But I got over that long ago.” She made an airy wave of her hand. “He is not at all the sort of man I would wish to marry.” She sighed. “Not that it appears I have much hope of marrying, anyway.”

Constance chuckled. “My lady, I cannot imagine that you would have any dearth of suitors.”

“Oh, indeed, there are a number who seek my hand. But so many of them are fortune hunters. It is dreadfully hard to tell, sometimes—except that I have learned that those who express undying love the most quickly are usually the ones who most adore my money. Not that it matters, for Sinclair scares them away.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, he scares
all
my suitors away. Sin can be a bit…overwhelming at times.”

Constance smiled faintly. She had herself felt rather overwhelmed by the formidable duke. “Surely that will not matter to the right man.”

“Mmm. I hope you are right,” Calandra said. “Otherwise, I fear I shall die a spinster.”

The idea of this lively girl, both eligible and attractive, remaining unmarried struck Constance as so ludicrous that she laughed, and Calandra joined her.

“I know, I must sound quite foolish,” Calandra admitted and fell to talking about fashion, a topic that satisfactorily occupied both women through much of the ride.

The climb had been growing steeper as they talked, and now Dominic pulled his horse to a stop and turned to them. “We shall have to walk the rest of the way to the promontory.”

At the prospect of walking, the idea of looking at the view quickly lost its enchantment for Margaret. As they all dismounted, she whined, “All the way to the top? But I am scarcely dressed for walking.”

Her mouth turned down expressively as she looked at the train of her riding habit, looped over her arm, then turned toward Mr. Carruthers, looking up at him beseechingly. “I think I would prefer to stay here. It seems quite pleasant in this little clearing. If, of course, someone would stay with me…”

It was true that the heavy skirts of the women’s riding clothes, with their trailing trains meant to appear at advantage draped over the side of the horse as they rode sidesaddle, were not easy to walk in. Nor were the supple riding boots. However, Margaret had known about the steepness of the climb before they left; she had expressed her doubts about it at the breakfast table. It was distinctly annoying that she had decided to come on the expedition to the promontory despite her laziness, and Constance felt rather certain that she had done it primarily to have a chance to be with Mr. Carruthers.

“I shall be pleased to remain here with Miss Woodley,” Mr. Carruthers offered gallantly.

Constance sighed. “Perhaps I should stay, too.”

She did not really want to stay here tamely in the clearing without even seeing the view from the promontory, but she felt it incumbent upon her not to leave Cousin Margaret alone with a man whom she scarcely knew. It was not inherently scandalous, of course, for a woman to be alone with a gentleman in the afternoon, even in this rather secluded setting, as long as it was not for a very long period of time. However, her cousin was quite young and also quite silly, and Constance was not at all certain what she might do if left to her own devices, especially given the way she had been flirting with Mr. Carruthers. She could not leave Margaret in a situation where she could damage her own reputation.

Calandra glanced at Constance, then at Margaret, and said easily, “Oh, no, you have not seen the view. I shall stay here. I am rather tired, and I have been to the promontory several times.”

Constance cast the young woman a grateful look. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Calandra told her. “I only came along because I did not want to be there when Muriel returned from her trek around the lake.”

In the end, Mr. Willoughby, whose horse was showing signs of weariness, decided to remain behind, as well, so only Dominic and Constance continued to the top. They walked, leading their horses, and soon were out of sight among the trees. The path became steeper, and they fell silent, needing their breath for the climb.

They passed a small thatch-roofed cottage and shed, nestled against the hillside. It looked, Constance thought, like a cottage from a fairy tale.

“Who lives there?” she asked, pointing.

“No one. It’s deserted. Has been for years,” he answered. “We might as well leave our horses here.” He tied their mounts to the low-hanging branches of a tree in front of the cottage.

“It is called the Frenchman’s House,” he went on. “I have no idea why. There are innumerable stories about it. Some say it was where they exiled some mad FitzAlan ancestor.”

“Oh, no, it must have involved some tragically romantic story,” Constance said in disagreement. “Just look at it.”

Dominic chuckled. “Most likely it was where some favored old servant retired.”

“That is much too mundane,” she protested.

He smiled down at her, and suddenly Constance was very aware of her own body, of the pulse of blood at her throat and the pull of air into her lungs. Her skin was warm with the exercise of climbing, and she felt the caress of a breeze on it.

She was aware, too, of the fact that they were all alone in this secluded spot, something quite rare at any time, but especially in this large house party. Dominic’s eyes traveled over her face, and he reached up to gently brush his thumb across her cheek. The brief, skimming touch seemed to awaken every nerve in her body, and Constance shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“No. Not at all.” Gazing back into his eyes, she knew that he understood why she had shivered—and understood, as well, that the heat in her body came only partly from the warmth of the day.

She thought that he was about to kiss her. She knew that she wanted him to. She wanted, Constance realized, far more than that. She wanted to feel his hands on her body again; she wanted his lips to travel over her. She wanted his mouth to close around her nipple and bathe her in damp heat. Her breasts ached a little just at the thought, her nipples tightening.

Dominic moved fractionally closer. He knew, she thought. He knew exactly what she wanted, and he wanted it, as well. For a moment they stood there, simply looking at each other, and the very air seemed to simmer between them.

Then he stepped back abruptly. “We should keep going. The others will not want to wait too long.”

She nodded woodenly, thinking that it was better this way and yet not liking it at all. He struck out for the top, and Constance followed. The ground turned rockier, and the trees thinned out. Now and then he reached out to take her arm to help her up a steep spot, and she felt each touch all through her.

Finally they reached the top, a rocky cliff jutting out over the countryside and offering a sweeping view of the land below.

“Oh!” Constance drew in her breath sharply. “It’s beautiful!”

Dominic nodded, looking out over the vista. “This was always one of my favorite places. I would sit here and look out and dream…all sorts of foolish things.”

“I am sure they were not foolish,” Constance replied.

He shrugged. “Impossible, anyway.” He looked at her and grinned. “Not much call these days for a knight or a corsair.” He gestured out in front of him. “You see the stream going down to Cowden? And there’s the tower of St. Edmund’s in the distance.” Closer to them, he indicated two of the farms that they had ridden past earlier this afternoon.

“You love this land very much, don’t you?” Constance remarked.