Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 03] (19 page)

He made a big thing of looking at his watch. “Two hours.”

“You have not!”

“Perhaps only one then, but I was sure you would come down. I have ordered horses for us both.”

“I have ordered my own horse, thank you.”

“Do you think your order will provide you with as good a mount as mine will?” he asked lazily.

She knew the answer to that. Lord Mount Edgcumbe’s people did not know her well, and no doubt would provide a meek and gentle ladies’ mount for her, but if Deverill had ordered a more spirited animal, he would get it. And if she rode with him, she would not have to match her pace to a groom’s or concern herself with whether the groom would report her to be a too-daring rider for a female, which was a thing that had been known to happen in the past when she visited houses where her skill was unknown.

As it was, she had risen early, hoping to enjoy a gallop without being forced to plod along with a party of ladies. Riding with Deverill would be much better than either course. So swallowing her lofty attitude, she smiled warmly at him and said, “I will not pretend to be ungrateful, sir, for I am very much obliged to you.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Very much obliged is exactly what I’d intended you should be.”

S
UNLIGHT SPARKLED ON THE
bright blue water of Plymouth Sound, and as they rode along the cliff edge toward Rame’s Point, the view across the Channel was so clear that they could see not only the Eddystone Light but the distant, shadowy shoreline of France as well. A soft breeze blew wisps of Daintry’s hair into her face, and the warmth of the sun touched her skin like a caress. High overhead, wispy white clouds floating on the breeze looked like white muslin gowns freed from a clothesline.

They rode silently for a time, enjoying the fresh sea air and the sounds of nature—the crying of the black-backed gulls and kittiwakes as they swooped and dove through the air overhead, the soft thuds of the horses’ hooves on the sandy turf, the song of the sea drifting up from below, and the nearby chirping of birds in the garden shrubbery. For propriety’s sake, one of the grooms accompanied them, riding a discreet distance behind.

Yellow gorse blossoms peeked cheerfully through the masses of dull bracken and bloomless heather that covered the cliff slopes, and away to their right the Mount Edgcumbe gardens gave way to scrub woodland, but the melody of the birds continued, accompanied occasionally by the scratchy chirp of a bush-cricket fooled by the warmth of the sun into thinking it was spring.

Daintry looked at her companion. He seemed utterly relaxed, not at all as if he had spent the past minutes wracking his brain for something clever to say, as she had done. He seemed content to ride in silence, and she wondered what it was about him that made her want to say something witty to impress him. The urge was a new one, for she rarely concerned herself with such things, assuming people she met would either like her or not like her as they chose, and not much troubled about it one way or the other. But with Deverill it was different. Even though he was, unfortunately, much like any other man, it had become a matter of importance that he continue to like her.

He looked at her and smiled, and she marveled again at the warmth of that smile, the way it fired a glow through her whole body. The corners of his golden eyes crinkled upward, making him look not only harmless but downright trustworthy, the sort of man to whom one could confide one’s innermost thoughts. Had she not known that such men simply did not exist, she might well have been fooled by that look.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said suddenly.

“My thoughts are worth a great deal more than that, sir, but if you must know, I was wondering what life would be like in a world where one could say precisely what one thought without any concern for the consequences.”

He grinned. “One can do so now, if one truly does not care about consequences.”

Wrinkling her nose at him, she retorted, “You know that is not what I meant. I just think it would be gratifying to know one could speak one’s mind without having one’s opinions laughed at or dismissed as inconsequential.”

Deverill was silent for a long moment, long enough that she wondered if she had somehow offended him, if he might be turning over previous conversations in his mind, searching his memory for something he might have done or said to make her think he had laughed at her or dismissed her opinions. Deciding it would be good for him to wonder, she held her tongue.

At last he said, “I suppose people often do such things to each other, although I hadn’t thought about it before and certainly wouldn’t have expected such concerns to silence you. In my experience, you say precisely whatever you want to say whenever you want to say it. Words just seem to tumble from your brain out through your mouth without so much as a pause for reflection along the way.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact that she was not certain whether she had just been insulted or complimented, but decided it did not much affect the point at hand in either case.

“I have been raised to believe I might generally say what I please,” she said, “but that is not by any means the same as knowing that what I say is respected. More often than not, when I speak to my father, my brother, or to Geoffrey, I am asked to repeat myself for the simple reason that they did not bother to listen to me the first time and only really acknowledged the fact that I had been speaking once I had finished. Can you imagine how infuriating that is, always to be asked to repeat oneself?”

He shook his head. “No, I doubt that I can, for I rarely am asked to repeat myself.”

She nodded vigorously. “That is precisely what I mean. When you speak, people listen because the consequences of not listening can be most unpleasant. If my father fails to pay heed to my words, however, how unpleasant can the consequences be?”

He chuckled.

“It is
not
funny!”

“No, I do not suppose that it is, but I am sure you exaggerate the difficulty, and I know for a fact that you are complaining to the wrong person. I don’t believe I have ever once asked you to repeat yourself.”

Realizing that he was right and, moreover, that they had arrived at this point because she had not wanted to tell him exactly what she had been thinking in the first place, she decided she would be wiser to change the subject. Smiling sunnily she said, “You are perfectly right, sir, and I apologize for leading you to believe I was accusing you of any such thing. Have you managed to learn any more about our dreadful feud?”

He replied as if he were perfectly accustomed to abrupt turns of conversation, “I have not, but not from lack of trying. Not only have I begun a search of our family papers but I also asked my father for information; however, he snubbed me, making it clear that to press for answers would prove not only fruitless but would seriously annoy him, something I try never to do.”

“Goodness, do you fear your father, sir? I should never have guessed it.”

Deverill chuckled. “You’ve never met him, so I cannot think why you might expect to guess what he is like, but I assure you, I do not fear him. I just make it a point not to annoy him.”

“But this matter is an important one. We can do nothing to mend the rift if we do not know what harm was done at the start.”

“Do you want to mend the rift?” he asked gently.

“You know I do.” Seeing the warm look in his eyes again, she added hastily, “It is most uncomfortable being at odds with one’s neighbor, and I can see no good cause to continue a feud that has no known cause. It’s plain silly, sir.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I agree, it seems that way, but of course, we do not know for a fact that our respective sires are not well aware of such details as would explain it perfectly and are simply refusing to tell us. Have you asked St. Merryn?”

“Of course I have, but he will tell me nothing. And my Aunt Ophelia, who knew both my grandfather and yours, insists she knows nothing at all about what caused them to quarrel.”

“She knew them both well?”

“Well enough that both of them proposed marriage to her.”

“But does she not keep a journal? I seem to recall her speaking of one when we discussed the weather the other day.”

“Yes, she does keep one.”

“Then, perhaps she would allow you to read it, or would take some time to read it over herself,” he suggested.

“But what purpose would that serve?”

“I should think that would be obvious,” Deverill said. “If something occurred between them, and if she knew them both, surely she must have noted it down in her journal at the time.”

“But she has said she knew nothing about it.”

“It was a long time ago.” His tone was patient. “She is elderly. She might well have forgotten.”

Daintry laughed, then said contritely, “I beg your pardon. It is most unfair to laugh at you, but although you have had the pleasure of meeting my great-aunt, you cannot know her yet if you can believe she would have forgotten such a thing, or indeed anything at all. She has a most remarkable memory, sir, not just for her age, but for any age whatsoever.”

“I see.” His expression was enigmatic for a moment, but then he seemed to shake himself, and he said, “I believe that making your acquaintance is going to prove a salutary experience for me, for I recall now that I once knew precisely what it is like to have one’s opinions dismissed as inconsequential. Both my father and my brother, Jack, once made a habit of deflating all my pretensions. When Jack left Eton things became different there, of course, and in the Army, I soon had my own command, so I am no longer accustomed to being put so firmly in my place.”

Seeing no point to be gained by trying to make him see that he had just equated the general treatment of women by men with the treatment of children by adults, she said only, “I know one should not speak ill of the dead, sir, but your brother does not sound like he was a very kind man.”

He smiled. “No, ‘kind’ is not a word one would apply to Jack. He was a sportsman and thought himself the devil of a fellow, especially after my father came into the title. Jack couldn’t wait to be Marquess of Jervaulx. I certainly never thought to find myself in his shoes, and I’m not at all sure I like it, for it’s as if my life had abruptly shifted course, almost as if I had suddenly ceased to be myself and become another person altogether.” Straightening in his saddle and giving himself another one of those odd shakes she had noted before, he said, “There’s a long straight stretch ahead. Shall we gallop them?”

In reply, Daintry lowered her hands, leaned forward, and touched her mount with spur and whip. The spirited bay gelding Deverill’s order had provided for her gathered itself and leapt forward, settling rapidly into a smooth pace that covered the distance with speed. She had caught Deverill off guard with her quick reaction, but it was not long before he drew up alongside her, his big gray horse easily keeping pace with the bay.

She was reminded of the first time she had seen him on horseback when she had thought that he and Shadow moved as if they were mentally and physically one. Now, his grinning face and laughing eyes showed that he loved riding as much as she did.

To gallop was exhilarating, but soon there were woods ahead, their edges bare and weatherworn where the winds from the sea had battered them, the dim interior filled with elder, ash, sycamore, and hawthorn trees, their trunks wrapped in bryony and the clinging ivylike stuff known as broomrape. As they passed beneath the first branches, Daintry slackened the gelding’s pace, and the gray slowed beside her. Minutes later they were deep in the woods, where the air was cooler, though still not chilly. The path was easily wide enough for them to ride abreast, and firm enough underfoot to let the horses canter until they came to a wide stream, where they slowed again to a walk.

About to urge her horse into the stream, Daintry caught sight of two swans displaying in a nearby sunlit pool, and reined in instead to watch. Like mirror images, the birds stretched their necks upward, then curved them and dipped their heads under the water before repeating the movements. They were magnificent, like sensuous dancers, and she watched, mesmerized, scarcely noting that Deverill had drawn up the gray beside her.

The dance continued, the swans teasing each other, then moving in unison. After several minutes, they added the rubbing of their sides with their beaks and heads to the first movements, moving faster and faster till finally they were touching each other. Then, possessively, the cob put his neck over the pen’s when he immersed his head. Shortly after that he mounted her, and when it was over, they both seemed to stand right up in the water, facing each other, rubbing heads affectionately.

Daintry said quietly, “It is intriguing to see how much interest they show in one another after mating. So many birds part immediately afterwards and just fly away.”

“People, too,” Deverill said in an oddly strained tone.

Glancing at him, she saw that he was not watching the swans. He was watching her, and the look in his eyes brought heat to her cheeks. She could not look away. “Swans,” she said in a voice not at all like her own, “mate for life, you know.”

“Do they?” He was still watching her, his expression making her unusually conscious of his nearness. The woods were silent.

“Yes.” She licked suddenly dry lips. “Yes, they do.”

The groom behind them coughed, reminding them of his presence, and Deverill said in a normal tone, “Although that pool is warm and sunny, this is certainly not spring. What do they think they are about to be mating in the middle of October?”

Recovering with more difficulty than he had seemed to experience, she said, “Aunt Ophelia calls it bonding behavior, a renewal of their loyalty to each other. We have a number of swans on the river at Tuscombe Park, and they molt in July, August, and September, you see, so in October they …”

“I do see,” he said quickly, turning the gray’s head and urging it across the stream. Flashing a look over his shoulder, he said, “You really are an amazing young woman.”

“Nonsense, I am perfectly ordinary.” She followed him, bringing the gelding alongside the gray.