The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (11 page)

May’s natural smile tightened into something quite forced. There was no reason to feel slighted. Lady Evers’ reaction to her had been no different the night before, nor was it any different than many of the
ton’s
. But here, under the viscount’s roof, Lady Evers’ expectation that May meekly fade into the background stung worse than the most thinly veiled insult Lady Lillian could ever utter.

Lillian and Iona naturally drank up the praise and lapsed into comfortable conversation with the viscount’s mother. It was only right that Lillian should make friends with Lady Evers. The woman would very likely become her mother-in-law, after all.

Just once
, May thought. Her smile strained till her jaw ached.
Just once, I would like to be the pretty one—the one everyone is dying to love
. But that would never happen. Not even her parents—the very two people who should love her no matter how ugly a duck she turned out to be—they didn’t even love her enough to stay by her side.

She stepped back toward the window seat, as was her habit, and allowed herself be forgotten. An interloper, perhaps . . . but she did have her pride.

A lifetime of minutes passed before Lord Evers entered the parlor. Cane in hand, he was blessedly giving his injured foot a well-deserved rest. Despite May’s discomfort at being the forgotten guest, her smile relaxed at the sight of him using that cane. Her words that morning must have made an impact. He was letting his finely polished wooden cane with a golden cap take the weight off his damaged leg . . . and looking more dashing than ever for it.

His gaze swept the room. A brief hesitancy darkened his expression as his eyes flicked from Lady Lillian’s lovely pout to his cane and back to Lillian again. The gel played the part of coquette to perfection.

Lillian turned her head and whispered in Lord Nathan’s ear, twittering lightly. The viscount remained standing at the threshold, looking adorably cross. May saw right away what he’d missed. Since he hadn’t immediately plied Lillian with flowering praises or complimented her ridiculous ostrich-feathered bonnet, Lillian had chosen to punish him by flirting shamelessly with his friend.

Fortunately his mother seemed to know the rules of the game Lillian had chosen to play. She came immediately to his rescue.

“Radford,” she cried. “Come tell your Lady Lillian how beautiful she looks. Haven’t you noticed her lovely new bonnet and how it complements her rosy complexion?” She took Lillian’s arm then. “You must forgive my son. Just like his father, Radford can be blind to such delicate matters. He appreciates the final result without taking adequate notice of the details that make our beauty a success.”

Radford?

His given name fit his straight, proud stature. The name literally tripped off May’s tongue as she whispered it. No matter how hard she tried she could not seem to wrench her gaze away from him.

He’d changed his clothes. His buff pants were tight, probably too tight for his injured leg. His coat was also tight, accentuating his broad shoulders. An intricately pressed cravat cascaded from his neck. All in all he looked very well turned out. His style could rival the most fashionable London dandies. Were they in London, he would doubtlessly win a nod from Beau Brummell, society’s arbiter of taste and fashion.

May watched Radford with fascination, realizing with a short gasp of horror that she was a little more than half in love with him. He fawned over Lillian, kissing her hand and gazing intently into her blue eyes. She, in turn, swatted his shoulder and made him promise to never overlook her lovely bonnets again.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. You have the loveliest taste in clothing,” he said in the same honeyed tone he’d used in the moments before he’d gifted May with her very first kiss. “I bow to your genius on all matters of fashion. You are a goddess in that respect. A beautiful, talented goddess.”

That first kiss he’d given her had meant the world to May.

A knife twisted in her gut. The green-eyed monster, jealousy, stabbed her but good. That very same kiss had been nothing more than an empty diversion to Radford.

May fervently prayed that love was indeed a fleeting emotion, as Mary Wollstonecraft had suggested. How would she be able to bear the ripping pangs in her heart otherwise? How could she live the rest of her life while such aches burrowed deep into her soul?

There was no one, save her aunt, who had ever found her worthy of being loved. The realization threatened to pull tears to her eyes. May blinked them back furiously. She was a woman grown, not some besotted child who still believed in fairy tales and romantic endings. Such things only lived in novels.

Happy endings were certainly vacant from her quiet life.

Radford hadn’t even noticed her presence. It was as if she’d actually melted into the wainscoting. Without wishing to till at windmills, May shifted deeper into the window seat, half-hidden behind the heavy curtains, dearly wishing she could disappear altogether.

Radford encouraged his mother and
his
Lillian to join him on a long sofa. He motioned to a cozier velvet sofa, inviting Lord Nathan and Iona to also make themselves comfortable.

Lord Nathan cast a wary glance in May’s direction and refused the offer to sit. Iona followed suit.

“I would prefer to stand, my lord,” Iona said in that low, proper tone of hers that always sounded like a rebuke to May’s ears.

Her refusal left Radford in an awkward position. He was stuck between the polite need to sit with his mother and intended fiancée or remain standing with Iona. His eyebrows arched slightly and he flashed a quick snarl toward his friend.

“Very well,” he said. “I am anxious to inspect my filly. Word came around not ten minutes ago of my stable manager’s arrival. Perhaps we should—”

His gaze met May’s at that moment and he froze.

He was angry. She could sense anger in the air, and she was convinced it came from him. He didn’t want her in his parlor, in his house, or in his life. Agreeing to Lord Nathan’s silly notion that she would be welcomed was a fool’s folly May deeply regretted. But she could not change her course now. She swallowed hard and rose.

“My lord,” she said crisply and curtsied.

He blinked.

“My sister insisted
she
come along,” Lillian said in the ensuing silence. Neither Lord Nathan nor Iona moved a muscle to come to May’s aid. Instead, they stepped back and smiled at each other in a knowing sort of way. “Iona likes to bring her along on our outings. Perhaps it is
charity
.”

Charity? May was far too proud to accept charity.

“Lady Iona and I are friends, my lord.” Since no one else was going to defend her, May determined she would simply defend herself. “Lord Nathan had suggested I join the group, explaining how you are so very adept at judging horseflesh. He wished I be impressed by your great knowledge, I suppose.”

The corner of Radford’s mouth twitched. Whatever was going on in his head couldn’t be good. He dipped an exaggerated bow. “A thousand pardons, ma’am,” he said. “Please forgive me for overlooking you. I suppose I am doomed to fall prey to all sorts of humiliations today.”

With that said, Radford strolled from the room, leading the way to a large empty field beside his house. May lagged behind, hoping to remain in the parlor, until she noticed his mother also planned to remain there. Lady Evers stretched out like a treacherous tiger on the velvet sofa.

“Don’t be anxious.” Iona took May’s arm and pushed her outside.

“But horses are such large animals . . .” May said.

“You are frightened?” Radford asked. He lazily leaned against one of the portico’s Ionic columns while Iona and May emerged.

May’s heart skipped a beat. She fought a fresh attack of embarrassment, realizing he had overheard her put voice to her silly fears. She was the only lady she knew who didn’t have a rudimentary knowledge of riding or horses. Having been raised in London with an aunt who shared May’s unhealthy fear of the beasts, May hadn’t been given much of an opportunity to learn how to even approach a horse—much less sit atop one.

“I have no experience, my lord,” she said somewhat stiffly. “I don’t know what to do with them.”

He chuckled. “I will hold your hand, Miss Sheffers, and guide you so you can pet her velvet nose.” He took May’s arm from Iona’s then and walked between the women out to the field. A man in a tweed cap and baggy breeches stood holding the reins to a very tall cream-colored horse with a brown dappled rump. The filly tossed her dark brown mane and danced sideways as they approached.

May would much have preferred to try and pet Lady Evers’ perfect nose than tempt one’s fate with the foul tempered beast looming in front of her. What could Radford be thinking suggesting she dare touch such a wild thing?

“Ooooo,” Lady Lillian sighed. The filly danced sideways again. “She is ever so lovely, is she not? May I ride her? She must glide like the wind. Does she, Lord Evers?” She pushed her sister out of the way and latched onto the arm Radford had used to hold his cane, tugging on him as if he were a child’s wooden pull toy. “Does she ride like the wind?”

Radford stiffened. May felt the very air about him grow still. How thoughtless of Lillian to ask such a question. His injuries had obviously kept him from riding. A condition that surely created deep wounds in his pride.

“She will go well enough,” he said after a lengthy pause. He shrugged away the tension and his eyes lit up as he studied his beast. “She is a beauty, Lyles. Her legs look strong. Perhaps we should enter her in the races.”

“Aye, m’lord, I believe so. She has the frame for speed,” Radford’s stable manager drawled. He smiled, a wide grin showing a line of missing teeth. “She’s a beaut, m’lord, jus’ like her pa’.”

The filly tossed her head as if agreeing.

“She wants to run,” Radford said.

“Aye, my gig’s horse trotted far too slowly for Princess’ liking.”

“Princess? Is that her name?” Lillian asked, her soft voice growing ever milder. Her expression sparkled as she gazed up at Radford. “How delightful. Oh, how I would love to own such a horse.”

May fully expected him to promise Lillian the filly as a wedding present, or at least hint that he might do something so foolishly romantic. He shocked May when he ignored the comment.

Instead, his gaze turned sharply away from Lillian and toward
her
. “Princess will be part of my foundation stock. I may race her, but she will principally be a breeding mare.”

“Lord Evers, you are scandalous. You make me blush,” Lillian said and batted his arm.

May found herself blushing as well because Radford had begun to trace tiny circles on the inside of her wrist with his forefinger. He probably didn’t realize he was doing so, but there was a hint of heat in his gaze that made her suddenly suspicious.

No, she was being foolish again. He had baldly told her that there could never be anything between them. That he wouldn’t even ask her to be his mistress.

By the time May pulled herself out of her thoughts, Radford had released her arm and returned his attentions to Lillian. He fawned over the young lady in a way no one, not even May’s aunt, had ever done with her. She needed to be careful. There was nothing but pain waiting for her if she allowed her fantasies to run away with her again.

No man wanted her.

Well, Mr. Tumblestone did—but May still couldn’t figure out why.

Lord Nathan, Iona, and Lillian were all speaking at once, praising the horse, while standing far closer to the beast than what May thought could possibly be safe. The filly stomped her heavy foot as if angered by their presence and kicked up a spray of mud that splattered on May’s cotton dress. No one noticed the stain or May’s growing distress.

She retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and patted at the mud. It was hopeless, she knew. She would be mud-splattered until she could change out of the gown.

Radford didn’t spare her a passing glance once he’d pried his arm from Lillian’s clutches and stepped away from his friend’s praises to speak with his stable manager.

Lillian didn’t seem to notice him missing. She chattered on as if he were still standing between herself and May. “Papa will absolutely be thrilled to hear how skilled you are at judging horseflesh, Lord Evers. The last two horses he purchased came up lame within a month. He has no eye for such things, you must know. I will tell him first thing . . .”

One of the ostrich plumes on Lillian’s bonnet dipped forward and teased the filly’s nose as she continued to explain how she dearly wished her father could see Princess. Her head bobbed with her words, and the feather continued to strike the young horse. May watched as the skittish filly’s eyes began to roll.

Something bad was going to happen. May could feel it in the way her heart began to pound. The filly was going to bolt and stamp them all to death. Poor, poor Radford. He would never forgive himself if his prize horse were to injure his beloved Lillian.

Princess whinnied and ducked her head, as if trying to escape the brightly dyed feather. She stomped her foot and whinnied again when the troublesome feather seemed to follow her.

“She’s a spirited one, she is, m’lord,” the stable manager drawled and pulled the leading rein tighter.

“She is a pretty horse,” Iona said. “Just look at the unusual coloring.”

“You’ve done well this time, Evers,” Lord Nathan said. “All your hard work at the stables is beginning to pay off.”

No one other than May sensed even a whiff of danger. Lillian’s feathered bonnet continued to bob and torment the horse, her speech continuing without pause.

Such a great beast, May couldn’t help but think. She shall kill us.

She fought the urge to escape to a safe distance away. But she was never one to cower. If the others weren’t afraid, she wouldn’t show her budding terror . . . even if it meant risking her neck in order to protect her pride.

Oh what a foolish sin, pride. May had noticed more than ever how such a stubborn emotion could be the cause of some quite unnecessary troubles.

The filly snorted after the feather danced in her nostril. She tossed back her head, reared up, and made a horrid sound.