Page 8 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
He was rather certain, however, Lady Landsdowne could read straight through his efforts and decipher them for what they were. If her eyes narrowed any further, they’d be as sharp as a finely honed blade and might slice into him.
God, but she was protective, and he couldn’t help but admire her for it. Those in his family had a penchant for caring for the less fortunate, for seeking justice, for striving to better living conditions. He could certainly see Lady Landsdowne carrying on the tradition with a fierce determination. He suspected if she discovered his true purpose, she’d flatten him with one solid punch. Or she’d try. He envisioned closing his hand around her fist before it met flesh, drawing her in, and claiming her mouth until he’d worked them both into a fevered tempest.
They’d been driving through the park for nearly half an hour before it dawned on him no one had stopped to speak with him. He became aware of gawks, glares, and frowns. They were garnering attention, but not the sort that served any good. He considered suggesting they stop and stroll through the green, but Miss Hammersley had begun to fidget as though taking note of the occasional glower. Unlike her sister, who held her head high and occasionally stared someone down.
“It’s rather warm today,” Rexton said casually. “I believe I’ve had enough of the park. What of you, Miss Hammersley?”
“It does seem a bit unwelcoming.”
He leaned toward her. “People are jealous of my horses.”
Her green eyes grew as round as saucers. “Truly?”
No, but still he nodded. “A few of the gents and I have on occasion raced. I always win. Not everyone is a good sport about it.”
“Would you be a good sport if you lost?”
He grinned. “Probably not. I have a very competitive nature. I prefer to win.”
“To be quite honest, I can’t imagine you losing.”
“On occasion I have. It keeps me humble and inspires me to work all the harder.”
“This is you humble?” Lady Landsdowne asked.
He grinned at her because it seemed to irritate her when he did. “Decidedly so.”
With a roll of her eyes, she directed her attention back to the greenery. He’d love to engage her in a match of wits.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever competed in anything,” Miss Hammersley lamented.
“You don’t see seeking a husband as a competition?” he asked.
She shook her head, furrowed her brow. “No. I wouldn’t go after a gent whom another lady wanted.”
“Have you not heard there are no rules in love?”
“They are always rules, my lord. At least in my mind. Things I would not do for gain.”
“Admirable.” He instructed his driver to start back to Landsdowne Court.
Miss Hammersley sighed. “I believe, Tillie, I understand why you go riding in the park in the morning before anyone is about.”
“It’s much cooler, then, Gina. My horse prefers it.”
And he imagined she did as well. Was she always striving to protect her sister from the truth of her dire situation: she was loathed among his peers?
They spoke very little on the journey back. When the driver pulled the carriage to a stop in the drive, Rexton leaped out and extended his gloved hand to Lady Landsdowne. After a hesitation, she placed hers in it with assurance and certainty. Nothing delicate there, nothing that would break easily. He’d noticed it when he handed her up into the carriage, the way her warmth seeped through the kidskin to become part of his flesh. They were in close proximity as she descended the three steps to the ground and yet an immeasurable distance separated them, as though a wall surrounded her, one that could not be climbed over or breeched. She held herself apart, and he wondered if she’d done the same in her husband’s bed.
After releasing her, he assisted Gina. He might as well be handing down a doll for all the effect she had upon him. Nothing vibrated between them. No heat arced. No awareness sparked. He’d think he had one foot in the grave if it weren’t for the fact his reaction to Lady Landsdowne was so strong and unwavering.
She marched ahead toward the door, while Gina lagged behind, smiling up at him, her eyelashes fluttering as though she were striving to dislodge a speck of ash that had settled into the corner of her eye. She truly was too unknowing for him. Her sister had the right of it there, but he wanted access to Black Diamond more than he wanted to breathe.
“May I have a word in private, Miss Hammersley?” he asked quietly, and yet still Lady Landsdowne heard him. Her back went ramrod straight, when he’d thought it could go no straighter, and her slender shoulders stiffened as though someone had just walked over her grave and caused a shudder to course through her. She swung around, her features set in an impermeable mask.
“Keep it short,” she ordered sharply before proceeding into the residence. Not ten seconds later the butler stepped out, standing at attention, his gaze boring into Rexton as though he suspected him of being up to no good. Not too far from the truth there.
Again Rexton found himself wondering what about the man had appealed to the countess. He was tall, trim, dark-haired but his features were so bland he wouldn’t be noticed in a crowd of two. Did he possess a sense of humor? Did he cause her to laugh? Did he recite poetry in a mesmerizing cadence? Did he—
