With a warmth in his voice she had never heard before, he said, “That is your new home, Wildehaven.”
She looked a few moments longer. “I can see why
you are so pleased to come home. It is superb.”
Jessica had been unusually silent during the trip; she
conceded the irony of having her first love as her new nephew, but she wasn’t quite ready to find amusement
in it.
She’d thought long and hard on how Jason would suit her niece, and could not decide whether
the match would succeed or fail abysmally. She would
swear the young Jason Kincaid had had not an ounce
of real vice in him, but this new hard-eyed stranger
was an enigma. It was easy to see how intimidating he would be to a shy young girl.
If he had the patience to deal gently with Caroline, the marriage could be com
fortable, but patience had never been a feature in his
youth and he didn’t appear to have improved in that
respect. For Caroline’s sake she would hint to him the
best way of winning her niece’s trust and love, though it was not a task she welcomed.
As she looked at Wildehaven’s distant majesty, it
was impossible to avoid thinking that she could have
been mistress of it. But any life that didn’t include
Linda would not have been worth having, so the
pang was easily suppressed.
It was another half-hour’s ride to the gates of
Wildehaven. A magnificent drive lined with lime trees curved around the side of a hill and led to the main en
trance. Jason bowed ceremonially over Caroline’s
hand after he had helped her from the carriage. “Wel
come to Wildehaven.”
Caroline looked at the broad facade dubiously.
Close up, it was rather overpowering. The central section was three stories high, and long wings angled out
on both sides. It seemed to have been built for a race of
giants, not for undersized females of no great style or
countenance.
Her confidence was not aided by the
hastily assembled line of servants waiting to greet her
in the enormous high-ceilinged entrance hall. The but
ler and housekeeper were even more intimidating
than Jason himself; impossible to think of giving either
of them orders. They were introduced as Burke and
Mrs. Burke, presumably a married couple. The rest of the names and faces passed in a blur.
“Would you care to rest from the trip, Caroline?”
Jason’s voice was a welcome break into her tired con
fusion.
“I would like that very much,” she said. “What time
do we dine?”
“We keep country hours here, but that gives you
two hours for a rest. Mrs. Burke will show you and
your aunt to your rooms.”
Before they could leave, a giant dog came galloping
into the room, heading straight for his much-missed
master. He came to a screeching halt, skidding ponder
ously on the polished marble floor, his head exactly
positioned for Jason’s caress.
Secure in Jessica’s arms,
Wellesley hissed in panic, his back arching and his tail
fluffing to double its normal diameter. Intrigued by the sound, the mastiff swung his giant head toward
the cat and moved to investigate.
Before Wellesley’s
hysteria became completely uncontrollable, Jason
snapped, “Rufus, you are not to touch the cat, now or ever. Do you understand?”
The dog looked at his master in what appeared to be
perfect comprehension, and a look of doggy delight
caused his jaws to loll open as Jason continued scratch
ing behind his ears. “As for you, Wellesley,” Jason con
tinued with a hard stare at the little cat, “cease this un
seemly emotion. Rufus will not harm you.”
Amazingly, the kitten appeared to accept this. His
tail resumed normal proportions and he settled once
more in Jessica’s grasp.
The drama having ended, the housekeeper inclined her head infinitesimally and swept off with Caroline
and Jessica trailing behind her. Jessica’s long strides
kept up easily, but Caroline felt like a child scurrying
to keep up with an adult. The journey to their rooms
seemed to encompass miles of corridors and hand
some rooms; by the time they reached their destination she was thinking wistfully of the ball of string Theseus
took into the Labyrinth.
“Your room, Miss Hanscombe. If you should wish
anything, just pull the bell rope. I will send a girl along
later to help you prepare for dinner.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Burke,” Caroline replied. “I am
sure I will be most comfortable here.”
Her assigned chamber was beautifully proportioned
and fitted with elegant Chippendale-style furniture.
The predominant colors were rose and a delicate
green, and the massive canopied bed would suit any
fairy-tale princess. She moved to the window and
found herself looking behind the house into the Wilde-
haven gardens. Formal squares of grass and flowers
led the eye to a small lake where a graceful bridge
arched to a small island.
She was still gazing out the window when a knock
on the door was quickly followed by her aunt.
“Goodness, Caro, it’s magnificent! I feel as if I’ve
wandered into one of my childhood fantasies. They’ve
put me right next door.” Jessica grinned. “I suppose
that is the best place for a chaperon to do her guarding.
I’m lucky they didn’t give me a pallet across your door
to lie on.”
Caroline turned from her window position. “It cer
tainly is superb. I can’t help feeling that Wildehaven is
the wrong name. There is nothing at all wild about it.
Everything appears to be under complete control. It
gives me an insight into why Jason might have offered
for me. He should find me easy to control.”
Jessica chuckled and cast herself back over the bed,
stretching her arms and legs catwise in sensual appre
ciation. “It was a surprise to have Rufus and Wellesley
obey him so readily, though it benefited Wellesley’s
health. As for your being easy to control—what a
whisker! I know you never indulge in open rebellion,
but you have a talent for eluding unwelcome stric
tures. I’ve see you disappear like a wisp of smoke any number of times when you didn’t like what was going
on.
“In the meantime, I have a great desire to soak up
every particle of luxury Wildehaven has to offer. It is
hard to imagine an environment further removed from
the dirt floor of a Spanish peasant’s hut. It makes me
so glad for those years of following the drum. I could
not appreciate this half so much without my memories
for contrast.”
Caroline smiled warmly and crossed to sit on the
bed next to her aunt. “Indeed, Jess, you were born to
rule over a domain like this. Not like me—I should be
much happier in one of those stone cottages we passed
on the way.”
“As long as it had a music room as large as the rest
of the house.”
“Exactly so.” They both laughed.
“When did you meet Jason?” Caroline
was curious, and this was the first time they had been
private since leaving London.
“Oh, it was just a hunting acquaintance. Father and I
were visiting with one of his friends in the shires. He
never had any money longer than it took him to lose it
at cards, but he didn’t lack for well-off friends who
would keep him in comfort. I was seventeen and getting ready for my first Season, so I was old enough to
be an asset to him. Doubtless he hoped some rich lord
would fall in love with me.”
A touch of bitterness was in her voice; she paused,
then continued, “Jason Kincaid was there for the hunt
ing also, staying with a university friend. They were
just down from Cambridge, I believe. Our paths
crossed at the hunts and the balls. After I left for Lon
don I never saw him again. It was quite a surprise to
see him after all these years. I had no idea your Diabol
ical Baron was someone I knew when he was a fledg
ling.”
“What was he like then?”
“A bruising rider, and always ripe for a jest. Much
more playful than he seems now. I suppose his respon
sibilities have made him rather grim, but I’m sure a
lighter side of him is still there, waiting for you to dis
cover.” Jessica looked earnestly at her niece, who
seemed unwilling to pursue the topic.
Caroline stood and said, “I’ve always
wondered how someone like you who is always bring
ing in stray animals and patching broken wings can
possibly hunt. Isn’t there a contradiction there?”
“Yes, but what are any of us but a mass of contradic
tions? When I was a child, I would unstop the fox
earths to foil the hunters because I couldn’t bear to think of creatures dying unnecessarily, even if they
were vermin. But riding in the hunt itself is so intoxi
cating . . . the excitement, the feel of the wind, the
power of the horse you control.
...
It is the closest
mere mortals come to flying. There is nothing like it.
Ideally, the fox gives us a wonderful chase and escapes
in the end.”
Caroline nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.
I understand better why people are so passionate about hunting. It was a favorite topic of the
more boring young men I met at the ton parties. They
were always going on about what great runs they’d
had.” She yawned. “And now to sleep. I’m
going to need all my strength for the inevitable house
tour.”
Jessica slid off the bed. “With any luck you’ll be
spared that until tomorrow morning. In the meantime,
I’d better check that Wellesley isn’t on top of my
canopy bed. If he had been a female, we could have
called him Pandora, for all the things he gets into.”
Then she retired to her own blue-tinted room to for
tify herself for what promised to be the worst house
party of her life.
Chapter 7
After Mrs. Burke had taken the ladies off, Jason lost
no time in going to his room and changing into
riding clothes. Ordinarily he would have visited his
office to see if any urgent matters awaited attention,
but today he hastened to the stables and saddled his
favorite stallion, Caesar, without waiting for a groom.
As soon as Jason and Caesar had cleared the stable-
yard he gave the restless horse its head and they went
blazing over the hills in a burst of explosive mutual en
ergy.
They had reached the boundary of Wildehaven and
were circling the perimeter before Caesar began to flag
and Jason let the stallion slow to a more moderate pace. Jason had always been an intensely physical
man, and the confinement and tension of the last two
days had been a sore trial.
With some of his energy re
leased, he was now free to think on the unwelcome
new complication in his life. He had gotten over his
feelings for Jessica years ago, of course. It had merely
been a youthful infatuation with a girl prettier than
most.
An unwelcome voice in his head said: Not pretty;
beautiful. He adjusted his thoughts. All right, she had
been beautiful. Had been ? Well, she was still beautiful.
But she was more than that. Jason shook his head irrita
bly, trying to dismiss his unruly second-guesser. Instead, he was rocked by a
flood of memories.
It was the first time he had been allowed to ride with
the Quorn, perhaps the most prestigious hunt in Eng
land. He was respectful of his elders, as befitted a
young man of twenty-one summers, but he knew his
riding was the equal of any man’s there. A few women
were present, but the crowd of hunters that morning
was large and the pre-dawn mists heavy.
He had been
impatient; the worst part of any hunt was waiting for the hounds to find a quarry. When a scent was raised,
they were off on a wild chase across rough country he
had never seen before. The hunters were bunched at
first but thinned out as riders and horses refused
jumps, took tumbles, or became too winded to con
tinue.
Jason was in the forefront close behind the hunts
man when he realized a woman was in the small
group. He couldn’t see her clearly in the half-light,
though he had been impressed by her riding.