Page 15 of Nothing But a Rakehell
“Then do not consider such a thing. But I was serious about taking you out to the park. What do you say? Shall we make an agreement? If I am in London when you come up, I’ll take you riding—and we’ll go to an evening at Astley’s. Are we agreed?”
A thrill of pleasure raced up her spine. Triumph made her scalp tingle. For a moment she gloried in it—his casual acceptance and easy friendship. But the feeling faded. She imagined herself in London. The stares. The whispers. The expressions of dismay and distaste as heads turned away.
It was not her world. It never would be.
She imagined Keswick’s face when he saw her dragging her leg along, shuddered at the thought of him seeing her attempts at a dance. What if she fell in front of a ballroom crowded with people? He would turn away in embarrassment and disgust, just like so many others.
She couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Ahead of them, Tensford paused at a fork in the trail. “I’d like to introduce you to the Beales,” he called back to Keswick. “They are tenants and hold one of the largest farms on the estate. Sarah is known for her cider. I’m sure she’ll find us a glass or two.”
“Cider sounds like just the thing.” Keswick followed readily enough, but Glory hesitated.
When they stopped and looked back, she gave them all a wave. “Poppy is beginning to favor that foot. I think I’ll take her back.”
“There’s no sign of it in her gait,” Keswick commented.
“I can feel it. All of you go on. I’ll see you at the house.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but she caught Hope’s thoughtful look as she rode off.
It was better this way. She could dismount and see to Poppy without Lord Keswick’s sharp eyes on her and she could get to her room without Hope’s interference.
And just perhaps, she might stay there until the house party was done and Lord Keswick had gone.
Chapter 4
On the third full day of his visit, Keswick’s restlessness got the better of him. Tensford was heading out to his new barn this morning, to oversee the placement of the trusses, but Keswick declined to go with him. He’d enjoyed seeing his friend so happy and productive, but he needed some distance from it. Very privately, he admitted to a bit of envy. After all, he had little chance of entering a similar state of engagement. At least, not one he could share with anyone. Not for a long while. Not until . . .
Well, notuntil.
Lady Glory might have provided a distraction, but she was in hiding. He didn’t know what the issue was, but he could tell that it was upsetting his hostess, and he knew he hadn’t seen the girl since they’d all ridden out on that first day.
She was different, that one. Pretty, yes. That auburn hair and those cognac eyes held definite appeal, but more than that, he was drawn to her wit and unexpected conversation. She didn’t look at him with either fear or fascination, didn’t watch him with wide eyes as if he were nothing but a walking collection of rumor and whispers of a thousand wicked acts. He suspected she had grit. And perhaps a bit of intractability, hidden away beneath the surface—and the disaffected bits of his soul always did like a bit of company.
He’d actually ridden out alone a couple of times, hoping to run into her somewhere on the estate. He was sure she must ride often. He’d never seen someone so comfortable in the saddle. But he never saw her and her mare remained in the stables.
He sighed. It was likely better this way. She was young. Too innocent for the likes of him. She didn’t know how to play the game and she would end up getting hurt. Because someone always did—and he’d stopped allowing it to be him, long ago.
He needed something else to distract him. Heaven knew he could not show the least bit of interest or passion in something solid and real. No, even here, away from his father’s spies, he would do best to keep his occupations shallow and preferably full of dissipation.
Unfortunately, dissipation was in short supply at Greystone.
So, he went looking for it.
He got up an illicit card game out behind the stables, drawing in the stable hands, a few of the grooms and a local lad or two. They played for pennies, but there was still a feeling of the forbidden about it, and spirits and pleasure ran high. They had a surprisingly good time at it, in fact, until rivalries ran deep as well, and fisticuffs broke out between a stable hand and a stonemason’s apprentice who both were sparking after the same kitchen maid.
Keswick had to take his responsibilities as a good guest seriously. Even he couldn’t be responsible for more than a broken nose, and assorted scratches and bruises, so the next day found him wandering to the village in search of amusement. He found it at the Crown and Cock.
The offerings began with the sign outside, an artistic and hilarious depiction of a finely feathered rooster, wearing a proud expression and a crooked crown. They continued with the discovery of the tavern’s much vaunted honeyed mead, a specialty whose secret had been known only to the tavern keep’s family for a hundred years. Mr. Thomkins was grateful for his enthusiasm for the brew, and tolerant of his enthusiasm for Betsy, the serving maid.
The girl was perfectly willing to provide the distraction Keswick was looking for. He let her sit in his lap and run her fingers through his hair as he considered going along upstairs with her. The straightforward transaction Betsy offered was the only sort he could tolerate in his life right now—and perhaps, ever.
But this was Gloucestershire, not London, and he was Tensford’s guest. And truthfully, the thought of a quick tup with a serving wench inspired mostly . . .ennui. Gads, but it was a sad state of affairs when an arse like that only made him feel like a world-weary sack.
It had nothing to do with shining amber eyes and the echo of a quick laugh and smart mouth. He told himself so repeatedly, and went back to the tavern the next day to prove it. He even allowed Betsy back on his knee. If she wanted to press her ample bosom against him while she shared the local gossip, he was in no mood to prevent her.
But as the afternoon wore on and the dinner hour approached, he extricated himself. He wanted to be back at Greystone for dinner.
Lady Glory was going to have to come out of her room sometime. He was not going to be so foolish as to miss it.
