Page 11 of In Compromise with the Earl
She stood. “Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I think I must rest before this evening. Good day, Lady Pandora.”
It was a brusque parting, bordering on rude but Aphrodite did not take kindly to knowing that she had been ambushed. This was not for her good will at all, this trip was to badger into marrying a man that she did not care for.
If her father wanted the Duke’s riches, he could happily go beg for them himself. The game might have been rigged against her but she was nothing if not resourceful. Aphrodite knew that she would find a way around this trap and be with the one she truly wanted—Oswald.
He might be a curmudgeon, sphinxlike, and still bearing scars from his marriage, but she felt a connection with him that she had never felt with anyone else. He was angry with her—for something she still did not know—but Aphrodite knew she had twenty more days to find out what it was, apologize and see if something good could come out of it.
She went to the East Wing, hoping that somehow, she would find her chamber and get some rest. She felt a bit lost and stopped at an alcove with a strange façade as huge floor-to-ceiling windows made up almost the whole of it. She gazed out to see rolling hills that stretched as far as her eye could see. She even spotted the glimmer of a lake probably half a mile away.
“Pardon me, My Lady?” a female voice said from behind her. “May I help you?”
Turning, Aphrodite found a young woman in maid’s black-and-whites. She was holding an armful of folded washing and Aphrodite nodded. “Um yes, I have not found my chamber. Could you point it to me? I may be the only lady left.”
“Yes, My Lady,” she said. “Please, follow me.” The maid led her down a richly decorated hallway, middled by an Aubusson Runner and caught a brief glimpse of her reflection in a gilt-framed mirror.
The maid halted at a door and without relinquishing her hold on her washing, opened the door and Aphrodite stepped in to take one glance at the giant four-poster bed and her trunks set in a corner of the chamber.
“Is it pleasing, My Lady?” the maid asked.
“More than that,” Aphrodite said. “Thank you, and good day to you as well.”
As the maid went off, she sat on a divan and tugged her shoes off. Finding a window, she gazed out and spotted a massive stable in an even greater stable yard, and beyond it, an expansive paddock. Her heart twinged with regret that she had not even thought of bringing one of her mounts but spotted an even-better specimen in the exercise yard.
Bracing her hands on the sill, she was delighted to see a coal-black stallion galloping along the far side of the enclosure.She watched, mesmerized, as he tossed his flowing mane from side to side in the afternoon sun.He was splendid, a beautiful horse of absolute perfection. She made a note to ask Lady Pandora if she could ride him sometime—after all, that was why she had carried so many breeches.
Barefoot, she unlocked a few trunks and plucked out some books, some drawing materials and her jewelry box. Later she would have Lydia help her unpack the rest of her clothes but as for that evening’s dinner, what would she wear?
Her eyes landed on the pair of tan breeches neatly folded in one of the trunks but shook her head—it was too soon. Instead, she had to think about what to do about the dratted Jameson Blackwood, Duke Strathmore. A troublesome man, the most persistent of her suitors with the most aggravating penchant to turn up wherever he was not wanted.
There was no question that the Duke would be present at dinner that evening and she debated in saying she was ill, but it would be evident that she was lying.
Furthermore, she wanted to take every opportunity to find Oswald and speak to him, get him to tell her what had shifted between them in the few hours since they had met and apologize for it. Until then, she had some plans to make.
What can I do get this meddlesome Duke off my back, once and for all?
Chapter Five
After taking one glance at the giant four-poster bed and distinctly masculine furnishings and deeming it fit, Oswald spun with alacrity and headed out to the stables where his horse, a black thoroughbred was ripping up large clods of dirt and grass with powerful hooves as he ran wild.
Goliath was a beast that recognized one master—him, and was he ready to let the fury within him match the ferocity the horse could muster. He knew it was prudent to change into a fitting riding gear, but it did not matter. Turner would deal with any stain later.
He strode out on the lawns and headed to the horse trotting in the paddock, its mane wild and flying with its pacing. Oswald let himself into the paddock and stood still, knowing that his horse was going to come to him.
With a wild whinny the horse came to him and nudged his hand. Pleased, Oswald rubbed its ears. “I don’t have any apples for you, Boy. Come with me.”
He walked to the stables and entered it, breathed in the oddly familiar, pungent smell of sweet hay, leather saddle and horseflesh as he moved through the stable. The hardthumpof his footsteps on the straw-covered floor stirred up tiny clouds of dust as he walked.
The stables were empty, not a stable hand in sight. It seemed as if Lady Ravenwood only held this place open for those who visited by with horses. It did not perturb Oswald, rather he preferred it that way. Spotting his saddle resting on a ledge, he grasped it and began to dress his horse. It was a methodical act that took little thinking, and his thoughts began to stray.
Lady Aphrodite, with her petite perfection, lush bosom, slender waist and hips, was sight of womanly curves and lush femininity. It thrilled him—but she was also a lesson in caution.
Claire had been like that too, had coaxed him with her seductive glances and shy smiles during their courtship, and after their marriage, her soft tears and tender cries that he did not love her enough. He loved her enough to destroy himself in the process.Damnation—he was never going to put himself in that position again.
“You don’t have that problem, do you?” Oswald asked his steed while securing a girth. “Insolent ladies who are probably more risk than reward.”
“And who are you calling insolent?” Lady Aphrodite said from behind him.
Devil and Damnation!
