Candice Hern (7 page)

She shot him a skeptical glance, as though she did not believe his flattery. Could she really doubt her beauty?

“I feel rather queenlike,” she said, “perched up so high above the rest. What on earth makes you want to drive such a dangerous-looking vehicle? Oh, but I have just answered my own question, have I not? You drive it
because
it is so dangerously high. The thrill of risk, I believe you said.”

“That is one reason. There is, however, another reason, another thrill, that makes it worthwhile today. It is so high, it allowed me the pleasure of lifting you up into it. And I live in anticipation of the opportunity to lift you down again.”

“Silly man.”

But not so silly, in fact. Tony had indeed brought the high-perch phaeton precisely for that reason. He’d taken great pleasure in setting his hands about her waist, in getting a spectacular view of her long legs and the curve of her hip as he lifted her up into the seat. And catching a tantalizing glimpse of trim ankle and shapely calf when her skirts became momentarily tangled. He had already contrived a plan to get a closer look, if he was lucky.

And he generally was.

“You do not often drive or walk in the park during this hour, do you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. But how would you know that?”

“You are being admired as something new. A beautiful curiosity no one has seen before. Hold steady. We’re about to be waylaid.”

Sir Crispin Hollis was the first to approach and request an introduction. Within minutes, several of Tony’s acquaintances had made their way to the phaeton to discover the identity of the lovely black-haired woman at his side. He had to quash a few remarks before the conversation took an unfortunate turn: Several men assumed Edwina was his mistress, simply because she was not in the first bloom of youth.

They were not the only ones who were under that misapprehension. Respectable ladies came nowhere near the phaeton. Tony began to think it
had not been such a wise idea to put Edwina through such scrutiny. He had only meant to show her off a bit, to inspire jealousy among his friends by having such a beauty at his side. Unfortunately, he had not considered that it might be a disservice to her, that her respectability might be questioned.

Edwina chatted easily with the gentlemen surrounding the carriage. Her intriguingly husky voice added weight to the notion that she might be his latest paramour. She appeared unconscious of its seductive effect while she sat supremely elegant and composed on her high perch. Tony could not dismiss the pang of chagrin that he had forced this upon her.

Suddenly he saw an opportunity for rescue.

Only a few vehicles separated them from an elegant barouche carrying his sister, Sylvia, and her friend, Lady Walbourne. He waved at Sylvia, who scowled at him, gave a tiny shake of her head, and looked away. No doubt she, too, assumed the worst about Edwina.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said to the crowd at large, “but you must allow us to pass. My sister is just over there and I wish to introduce her to Miss Parrish.”

He wasted no time in maneuvering the phaeton through the crowd, turning it in the direction the barouche had taken. Thankfully it was not High Season, when he would not have been able to move at all.

Edwina sent him a smile so warm his stomach did a little flip-flop and almost caused him to steer the carriage straight into a passing curricle.

“Thank you,” she said in a throaty whisper. “I was beginning to feel a tad overwhelmed.”

“I know. I do apologize. I hadn’t meant—”

“For them to think I am your mistress? That I am not quite respectable?”

So, she
had
understood.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said. “I hadn’t expected that, though I suppose I ought to have done. If only you were hag-faced, they would have left you alone.”

“If I were hag-faced no one would have thought me your mistress. Nor would they if I were ten years younger. But do not concern yourself. I am quite accustomed to men thinking I am something I am not.”

She shot him a significant glance, just in case he missed her meaning. He did not.

“But I shall put things to right,” he said, “by introducing you to my extremely respectable sister.”

“What? You really do see your sister? I thought that was merely a ploy to get away.”

“No, she’s right here, trying her damnedest to avoid me.” He edged the phaeton up close to the barouche and pulled the team to a halt. “Hullo, Sylvie. Didn’t know you were in Town. What a charming surprise to run into you. And Lady Walbourne.”

Sylvia turned to him and frowned, displeasure darkening her blue eyes. “Anthony.” She acknowledged him with a nod but invited no further communication.

“You must allow me to present to you Miss Edwina Parrish. Miss Parrish, this is my sister Sylvia, Lady Netherton, and Lady Walbourne.”

“I am pleased to meet you both,” Edwina said.

Sylvia nodded, risked a tiny smile, and shot Tony a questioning look.

“You are no doubt too young to remember,” he said, “but we knew Miss Parrish as children. Her grandfather owned Rosedale and she came to visit during the summers.”

Sylvia’s eyes brightened. “Rosedale? But that’s the estate that runs right up against Handsley.” She turned to Lady Walbourne. “It’s where we grew up.” Returning her attention to Edwina, she said, “Forgive me for not remembering you, but how lovely to meet someone from home.”

“There is no reason you should remember me,” Edwina said. “I was only at Rosedale a few times, but I remember it fondly. I knew your brother well”—she tilted her head in Tony’s direction—“but I seem to recall that you were too young to tag along with us, and your older brother, in the way of all adolescent boys, wanted nothing to do with two children.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” Sylvia’s face
broke into a broad smile, and Tony knew the afternoon had been recovered.

“Do you stay in Town for the summer?” Sylvia asked.

“Business keeps me in Town,” Edwina said, and slanted a glance at Tony, “but I do try to get back to our family home in the Peak whenever I can. I prefer the country, in fact.”

Hmm. Tony hadn’t known that. And his wager was keeping her in Town this summer. He seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this woman dislike him.

“I’m afraid I am here only briefly before I must return to Netherton and the children.” Sylvia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I only came to do some shopping and visit my modiste while the competition for her time is less fierce. Since I leave in a few days, I fear I shan’t be able to invite you to call. But you must allow me to do so when we return in the spring.”

“Thank you, Lady Netherton,” Edwina said. “I would be honored.”

“Good to see you, Sylvie,” Tony said, “but we must be on our way. Give my regards to Netherton and the boys. And tell young Rupert I haven’t forgotten he still owes me tuppence. I shall play him for it when next I see him.”

“Wretched man! Can you believe it, Miss Parrish? My brother has taught my seven-year-old son
to play Hazard. And now the boy plays for ha’pennies with all the stable boys on the estate. I really ought to bar the door when Anthony comes to visit, but the boys adore him, so there is nothing for it.”

“I merely assist in providing the boy with a useful education.” The grays began to dance impatiently and Tony took a firm grip on the reins. “We must be off, Sylvie. My team grows restless. Lady Walbourne, a pleasure.”

“I shall wish you both a good day, then,” Sylvia said. “Oh, and Anthony, you really should pay a call on Mother. She claims not to have seen you for months. Good-bye, Miss Parrish.”

Tony flicked the reins and set the team to a slow trot. “I’ve had quite enough of this throng. Let us take one of the less frequented paths.”

“Thank you again,” Edwina said. “It was very kind of you to introduce me to Lady Netherton, and especially kind of her to suggest I might call upon her in the spring. She resembles you a great deal, you know. She’s very pretty.”

“The Morehouse coloring looks better on her. And she got the big, cornflower blue eyes, while I got only the paltry gray. Only think of the hearts I could have broken with those blue eyes.”

“I suspect you’ve broken plenty of hearts with your gray eyes.”

“Do you? I shall take that as a compliment,
whether it was meant so or not. What about you, Edwina? How many hearts have you broken with those dark eyes? Besides my own thirteen-year-old heart, that is?”

“I never broke your heart, Mr. Morehouse, nor anyone else’s. I’m not a heart-breaking sort of female.”

“You’ve been reading too much Wollstonecraft.”

“Not as much as you, apparently. Why do I get the suspicion you studied up on her just so you could maneuver me into that wager?”

“A good gamester always knows when to play his hand.” He tugged the reins gently and turned the team onto a new path.

“Speaking of hands,” she said, “I don’t suppose you’d give me a chance at the ribbons?”

He turned to her and smiled. “You wish to drive my highflyer? I don’t think so. It is much too
dangerous
.”

“This path is almost deserted. Even if I was not a skilled driver I would be unlikely to plow into another carriage. And as it happens, I am a very skilled driver.”

“Have you ever driven a high-perch phaeton?”

“No, but—”

“Then you would surely overturn us or careen us off the path.”

“I would not.”

“Would you like to bet on it?”

She shook her head and smiled. “You never change, do you? Still a twelve-year-old boy at heart. Well, I have grown up. I was not looking for another wager. I just thought it might be fun to drive this ridiculous vehicle. But never mind.”

“Come now, Eddie, I thought you were always up to any challenge. A gamester at heart, whether you admit it or not.”

“I admit to no such thing. I suppose I have a bit of a competitive nature, but I like to win. Unlike you, I don’t accept a challenge merely for the thrill of risking it all.”

“Ah, but aren’t you risking it all with our little wager over the
Cabinet
?”

She gave a little snort. “You forced me into that. I had no choice but to accept your terms.”

“And yet you haven’t even heard my terms for this challenge. It might be worth your while.”

“I doubt it.”

“Then you name the terms. Within reason, of course.”

She turned to him. “And what does that mean?”

“That you cannot overturn our primary wager, or change the terms of that wager with a secondary one.”

“But I may name anything else as stakes?”

He thought for a moment and considered how bad she could possibly make it. But since he didn’t plan on losing, it hardly mattered.

“Yes,” he said, “you may name anything. I call the challenge, you name the stakes.”

“You tempt me, sir. But first let me hear the challenge. In detail, if you please.”

“All right.” He pulled the team to a halt. “See that clump of trees ahead, to the left of the deer pond? If you can make it there in…oh, let’s say five minutes. If you can drive the phaeton to that spot within five minutes, by my watch, without veering off the established path or overturning the rig, then you win.”

“Five minutes? It is to be a race, then? Not simply a test of my skill at the ribbons?”

“Driving skill includes managing a certain speed. What sort of victory would it be if you took half an hour to go such a short distance? The element of time, even one as conservative as I’ve suggested, gives an added spark to the challenge.”

Her brow furrowed as she studied the path and the distance, clearly trying to determine if this was a fool’s wager. Tony did not doubt, however, that she would accept the challenge. It was not an unreasonable objective. In fact, he had gauged it to be an easy victory.

“Do you accept the wager?”

She took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”

“Excellent. And what stakes would you like?”

“If I win, I want to be allowed to hire another assistant editor to help Miss Armitage.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t precisely alter the terms of
the original wager, but it might make it easier for you to win.”

“It would make my life less hectic whether I win that wager or not. There are only so many hours in the day, and the requirements of the magazine fill them all. Even this little outing is biting into production hours. I need help, but cannot fund additional staff on my own. You, sir, hold the purse strings.”

“All right. If you win, you get to hire an additional editor. And if
I
win, I get to select the editor.”

She sent him a quizzical look. “You have someone in mind, no doubt.”

“Possibly. But the fact is, whether you win or lose, you get a new editor. I really do not see you how you can pass up such an offer.”

“You’re up to some trick or other, aren’t you, to get me back for the Minerva? There must be something more in it for you besides getting the right to choose my editor.”

“You’re right. The editor is for you. There ought to be something for me if you lose. Something personal, I think.”

She looked at him warily, though a glint of amusement lit her eyes. “Oh, dear. I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“I don’t know. You might.” He gave her his most seductive smile, and she actually laughed.

“What is it, then?”

“I want your stocking,” he said.

Her eyes grew wide. “My stocking?”

“Yes. If you lose, I want one of your stockings. Not one neatly tucked away in a drawer in your bedchamber. I want one of the stockings you are wearing right now.”

Edwina made a choking sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, as though she wasn’t quite sure whether to be outraged or amused.

“And I suppose you’d want to take it off yourself as well,” she said.

“No, no. Nothing so improper as that. But I do want to watch
you
take it off.”

She laughed again, and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was not one of those vaporish spinsters who fell into a swoon at any type of suggestive remark. He still wasn’t sure if she was the sort of Modern Woman that Ian had suggested, but she clearly was not a prudish bluestocking either. Tony was determined to discover exactly what type of woman she was, and just how far he could push her.