A few days later, the grounds of Effington Hall teemed with horses and riders, many still in the heated competition that was part and parcel of the Roxborough Ride. Others were content to watch from the sidelines. Richard had eyes for only one.
Gillian maneuvered herself and her horse through the increasingly difficult course with its obstacles, jumps, and hazards with ease. Her bearing more than anything else, proclaimed her heritage. The daughter of the Duke of Roxborough possessed a natural grace in the saddle, just as she did everywhere else.
Richard was only grateful he could acquit himself as well on the challenging Ride. Admittedly, his skills on horseback were a bit rusty, but he’d managed every section of the course with little difficulty.
There were a hundred or so participants divided into teams of about twenty riders each. The teams progressed through the Ride in a staggered manner, clearing one course before the next team began, for both ease and safety. Gillian was in the second team behind his, and he now had more than enough opportunity to study her performance. And entirely too much time to think.
They’d arrived late last night, separately as per his suggestion, although she’d agreed a certain amount of discretion was wise. Not that it would make any difference. No doubt each and every Effington here was aware that Gillian had invited a newcomer. And aware as well that she would not have done so if he was nothing but a mere acquaintance.
It was unnerving to realize the formidable Effington family would be assessing his every action. The next two days would be a trial of sorts. Gillian knew it as well as he.
“I must say, Richard,” Thomas said as he trotted up beside him, “you have offended me deeply.”
“Have I?” Richard pulled his brows together. “How?”
“I have invited you to take part in the Ride for years, yet you’ve never accepted my hospitality.” Thomas nodded toward Gillian’s figure on the course. “Apparently, I simply didn’t know how to ask.”
Richard’s gaze followed his. “She is much prettier than you are, Thomas.”
“Thank God.” Thomas laughed, then sobered. “She is also my sister.”
“I am well aware of that,” Richard said mildly.
“And you are probably my closest friend.”
“I am aware of that as well.”
Thomas leaned toward him, his voice lowered. “Then why in the name of all that’s holy have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been—”
Thomas snorted. “Of course you have. When I last came to pick up a painting, you weren’t even there although I’d sent you a note and you should have been expecting me. I simply walked right in. You must learn to lock your doors.”
Richard shrugged. “There is nothing in my rooms worth stealing.”
“Well, you could certainly be a better host.” Thomas huffed. “I was forced to drink two full glasses of that disgusting stuff you call brandy while waiting for you—and you never did arrive.”
“My heartfelt apologies,” Richard chuckled.
“If I were a more suspicious man I would think your obvious aversion to my presence in recent days has something to do with the rumors spreading through the
ton
.”
“Rumors? What kind of rumors?”
“Oh, you know, the typical kind of speculation that usually occurs when a lady who has never been seen in the company of any men save her oldest friends is suddenly noticed to be the object of attention of a gentleman who is widely known for his reserved and indifferent manner. A gentleman who, while once enjoying something of a notorious reputation, has not publicly directed his regard to any woman in years. And has, in fact, reformed to the point of reclusiveness and utter boredom.”
“Boredom?” Richard said indignantly. “Do you think I’m boring? Now I’m offended.”
“If s not what I think but what the rest of the world thinks. After all, I know how you spend your days. I and I alone know the true identity of Etienne-Louis Toussaint.” Thomas studied him carefully. “Or am I mistaken? Does Gillian know as well?”
“No,” Richard said, his tone a bit sharper than he’d intended.
Thomas chose his words with care. “What precisely is your relationship with my sister?”
“Are you asking me my intentions?”
“Father was unable to be here so apparently, that leaves me as the head of the family, although I wouldn’t wish to mention the fact to my grandmother.” Thomas nodded slowly. “I am indeed asking about your intentions toward Gillian.”
Richard drew a deep breath. He knew this discussion was inevitable. Knew as well that it would occur during his stay at Effington Hall. Still... “Very well, Thomas. You’re right. I have been avoiding you, and we do have a number of things to discuss. But this is neither the time nor the place.”
“Absolutely right. However,” Thomas grinned, “if I recall you once played a wicked game of billiards.”
“Rather a long time ago. It’s awkward to play when one cannot afford to wager on the outcome of the game.”
“Even so, such skills once learned tend to return when called upon. And I’m certain we can come up with appropriate stakes. Effington Hall has an outstanding billiards room. I cannot think of a more perfect place to hold such a discussion. Perhaps tomorrow evening, before the ball?”
Richard nodded.
“Excellent. I shall thoroughly enjoy trouncing you.”
Richard raised a brow. “Even at my worst, I was always better than you.”
“We shall see.” Thomas laughed.
They exchanged a few more bantering comments, with Richard carefully avoiding the subject of Gillian, then Thomas was hailed by a woman on horseback and rode off to join her.
Richard’s gaze drifted back to Gillian. What were his intentions? And why weren’t they clearer in his own mind?
He could indeed now marry her and share her inheritance. She had certainly proved she could fully be his wife. He grinned at the thought of just how well she had proved it. His only condition to her proposal had been that she share his bed. Now that she had, why did he hesitate? Why didn’t he marry her at once?
He’d wanted a wife who wanted him, and that was precisely what he could now have. Was it no longer enough? Did he want not just her body but her soul? Not just her hand but her heart? Her affection? Her love?
Did he want her to love him? And if he did, why? No doubt it was nothing more than a point of pride with him. Damnable pride.
The very notion of love was absurd. He’d never given any consideration to the emotion. Never particularly looked for it or longed for it. He had no idea if he’d even recognize it if he saw it. Besides, love was not part of their agreement. Should it be? And why did he care?
Gillian sailed over a particularly difficult jump, and Richard’s heart caught in his throat. She had no concept of the dangerous nature of the obstacles on the course. She was indeed an excellent rider, but even the most experienced equestrian could take a serious fall. If anything were to happen to her—
The thought pulled him up short.
Surely he wasn’t falling in love with her? She filled his mind from dawn to dusk and lingered in his dreams when he slept. And yes, even his work could not erase her fully from his thoughts. And indeed, he seemed to truly live only when she was with him. And had he ever before lain with a woman whose touch inflamed not merely his flesh but reached into his very soul?
He pulled a shaky breath. Was this, then, love?
Gillian’s laughter drifted through the air and shivered in his blood.
Was that why he was reluctant to forge ahead with their agreement? If indeed he loved her, could he marry a woman who did not love him in return?
Gillian was right when she’d told him, or rather told Toussaint, it had all become complicated and quite confusing. He knew exactly what he’d wanted when they’d begun. But now ...
A rider called to him, and he headed back to join his team and continue the competition. The next section of the course was the most difficult so far, and he looked forward to it eagerly. It would take all his concentration to make it through without mishap.
And for the next few minutes at least he could banish any disturbing questions regarding his chaotic emotions and all thoughts of, perhaps, the woman he loved.
Gillian had scarcely spoken two words to Richard all day, as she was far too caught up in the exhilaration of the Ride and reacquainting herself with friends and relatives she rarely saw more than once a year. Whenever she caught his eye, he’d smile wryly, although he did seem to be having an enjoyable day.
Now she and her cousin Pandora stood near the lake that marked the end of the course. Here, long tables overflowed with a veritable feast of meats and breads and all manner of sweets to suit the voracious appetites of riders and onlookers alike.
Pandora’s gaze was locked on the sight of a sodden, but triumphant, Earl of Trent, who had just emerged from a rather amusing display in the water, part of the odd wager Pandora had with the man. The stakes were nothing less than marriage.
“Do you love him?” Gillian said.
Pandora shrugged. “Is it a completely unpleasant emotion?”
Gillian laughed. “It gets better. And what of the earl?”
Her cousin’s voice was wistful. “I wish I knew.”
“You don’t think this is an indication? After all, the man has put on a rather ridiculous, although vastly entertaining, public display. For you.”
“He’s very competitive. He wants to win.”
“What he wants is you.”
Not your legacy, not your presence in his bed, just you
. Gillian pushed the annoying thought aside.
“That much I know,” Pandora said sharply. “What I don’t know is why. Am I a reward for winning? Or does he truly care for me?”
“You could always ask him.” Gillian kept her voice light. Why was it so much easier to give advice than heed it?
“I’ve tried.”
“Have you?”
“Well, I’ve never actually said ‘Do you love me?’ But I have given him more than ample opportunity to tell me of his feelings. Whatever they may be.”
“Pandora, men are truly charming creatures, relatively intelligent on occasion and more than competent to chose a good horse or a fine brandy, but when it comes to things like love, they rarely seem to know what’s in their own hearts.” What was in Richard’s heart? She only wished she knew.
She laid a hand on Pandora’s arm. “Ask him. Trent will give you an honest answer, and honesty between a man and a woman is as important as trust. And love.”
Trust
? Could she trust a man with secrets? The more she learned about Richard, the more she discovered she didn’t know at all.
“I can’t.” Pandora shook her head.
“Because you’re afraid of the answer?”
“Perhaps. Besides, I don’t want to force him into some kind of halfhearted admission. I want him to tell me how he feels.”
“Poor Trent. Effington stubbornness is always a force to be reckoned with.”
Pandora raised a brow. “You are scarcely one to point fingers.”
Gillian laughed. “I’ll grant you that.”
“So what do I do? How am I to know how he feels?”
Gillian pulled her thoughts together. How indeed? How did you determine how any man truly felt? Odd, reticent creatures that they were. Her words were measured. “It’s always seemed to me, the relationship between men and women is very much like that of hounds and foxes.”
Pandora groaned. “So I’ve been told.”
“A very good hound will chase a fox until he drops from exhaustion. A lazy hound, a hound whose heart isn’t in the hunt, will lose interest. But a hound who truly wants the fox will let nothing stop him. He’ll follow the fox anywhere and follow him forever.” Gillian studied Trent. “That seems to be a rather determined hound.”
“As of today, the possibility of his winning our game is excellent, and I will not marry him unless he loves me,” Pandora said firmly.
Gillian’s gaze snapped to hers. “How will you avoid it?”
“I have no idea. But it does appear I have now become the fox, and the hound is gaining fast. I have to find a way to both elude the beast and determine if his heart is truly in the hunt.”
“If his heart is in the hunt...” Gillian murmured. Where was Richard’s heart in the odd game they were playing?
“So, Gillian, tell me.” Pandora glanced around and nodded. Gillian followed her gaze. Richard stood talking with two of her aunts. “Are you the fox or the hound?”
“Neither. Or perhaps both.” Gillian heaved a frustrated sigh. “Actually, Pandora, I’m not involved in, well, a hunt at all.”
“No?” Pandora raised a brow. “Then do tell me precisely what you are involved in?”
“Well, I...” What was she involved in? Her mother joined the group around Richard, and Gillian groaned to herself. “I really don’t know.”
“You’d best sort it out, and quickly. It’s not at all fair to subject a gentleman, any gentleman, to the scrutiny of the Effington females unless it is well worth his while. As I suspect it is.”
“Pandora!”
“Come now, Gillian.” Her cousin’s eyes twinkled. “After all, as far as I can recall you have never brought a guest to Grandmother’s party before.”
“I have too,” Gillian said indignantly.
Pandora waved dismissively. “Oh, Weston and Cummings perhaps, but they are your oldest friends and scarcely count. You’ve never brought anyone like him before.” She studied Richard curiously. “Is he as interesting as he looks?”
Gillian sighed in surrender. “More.”
“I see.” Pandora considered her for a moment. “Gillian, what are your plans for this man?”
Gillian drew a deep breath. Her gaze lingered on Richard. “I suspect I shall marry him.”
“Then let me ask you what you asked me: do you love him?”
Do I
? “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? Then does he love you?”
Does he? Could he
? “I don’t know.”
“Then it seems to me you should follow your own advice.”
“Oh?” Gillian glanced at Pandora. “And which of my sage words of wisdom would you suggest?”
“The simplest and possibly the most difficult as well.” Pandora favored her with a smug smile. “Ask him.”