Nicole Jordan (17 page)

Yet he was very much afraid that his frustration would lead him to do something reckless, like throttle the next man who leered at her.

He’d wanted to do just that earlier today when he’d caught Riddingham staring at her full, ripe bosom. He’d wanted to drag the viscount from his curricle and pummel him with his fists….

What riled him most, however, was the affection Julienne seemed to bear for the man, while
he
only roused her angry defenses.

Cunning killer or not, Dare thought as he tossed and turned in his solitary bed, Viscount Riddingham had best watch his back.

The next day dawned fair and pleasant for early spring. Despite her reservations, Julienne found herself enjoying the short drive to Primrose Hill just north of the city. She had dressed warmly, as Dare suggested, in a green velvet riding habit. And he had laid a carriage rug across her lap to ward off the remaining morning chill.

Riddingham was already waiting when they turned into the crowded yard of the posting inn, with Miss Upcott at his side. The actress was garbed in crimson and a high poke bonnet, which Julienne suspected would catch a great deal of wind once the race got underway.

Not surprisingly a large number of spectators had gathered to watch, she saw as Dare threaded a path through the crush of vehicles. There were several carriages filled with both ladies and gentlemen and more than a dozen sporting bucks on horseback. The wagers flew fast and furious, with most putting their money on Dare.

“Shall we engage in a small wager ourselves?” Dare asked Riddingham as he drew his curricle even. “Say, a thousand pounds?”

“Double that,” the viscount snapped, evidently in an ill mood. “Two thousand will make it worth my while.”

Julienne heard Miss Upcott gasp at the size of the wager, and she herself shook her head at the exorbitant sums these moneyed noblemen recklessly tossed around.

“As you wish,” Dare replied easily. “The first one to reach the Blue Boar Tavern wins.”

Shortly all the bets were placed and the congested yard cleared of spectators wanting to be present at the finish line. Willing to give them a headstart, Dare ordered refreshments from the innkeeper, and he and Julienne sipped hot mulled cider while his rival grew visibly more impatient.

They had just handed back their mugs when Riddingham’s curricle lurched and he clenched the reins, clearly having difficulty controlling his bays’ fidgets. With a polite sweep of his arm, Dare invited the viscount to proceed him out of the yard.

The two men turned on to the road, with Riddingham in the lead.

“Are you set?” Dare asked Julienne as he urged his pair into an easy gallop, as Riddingham was doing up ahead.

“Yes.”

“Good. This should be a pleasure.”

Julienne kept silent so that Dare could give his attention to his horses. He was an excellent whip, she thought, observing him match his speed to the curricle in front.

He needed to concentrate on the road before him, but she could watch the surrounding countryside. The vast area of heathland spread over sandy hills and secluded vales, and Julienne saw the green landscape rush by in a blur as they bowled along. With the wind in her face, she was glad she had worn a small shako hat rather than the broad-brimmed bonnet the other actress had chosen. Ahead, Miss Upcott strove to keep her bonnet in place with one hand while clinging to the rail of the curricle with the other.

They skirted the village of Hampstead before coming to the Heath itself, with its broad stretches of gorse and grass and numerous stands of trees. Dare leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent on the road and his opponent, and let his horses have their heads.

Julienne felt a rush of exhilaration as they surged forward. There was a risk of danger in racing, with curves and potholes and the possibility of an approaching carriage to challenge them. But as she watched Dare’s gloved hands masterfully controlling his grays, urging them to greater speed, she felt complete confidence in his skill.

Ahead, Riddingham was driving with evident skill himself. Julienne doubted either pair could keep up the brutal pace, but for now they were running strongly and showing no sign of fatigue. And Dare’s grays were slowly gaining ground.

The road was narrow here, with ditches running on either side providing barely enough room for two vehicles. But when Dare grinned at her, she realized he would to try to pass. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, Julienne knew.

“Hold on,” he shouted over the sounds of whistling wind and pounding hoofbeats.

She obeyed, even as she murmured a silent prayer.

Riddingham blocked their attempts, however, by swinging into the center of the road. Julienne winced and ducked her head to avoid the clods of dirt and mud thrown up by the bays’ churning hooves.

Patiently accepting his opponent’s tactics, Dare bided his time until a blind curve loomed ahead. Then he feathered the turn expertly while Riddingham’s curricle went wide. With a calculating glance, Dare dropped his hands and asked his horses for another burst of speed. The gallant grays shot forward, their lengthened strides eating ground.

They had nearly drawn even when a wheel on Dare’s curricle hit a rut. The vehicle tilted crazily, and Julienne gasped, gripping her seat in desperation. The grays took exception to the jarring weight behind, but Dare held them steady, calming them until they responded to his iron control.

At his command they slowly drew forward again, and soon the two pairs were racing neck and neck.

What happened next Julienne wasn’t quite certain, but she heard the scrape of metal as the curricles clanged wheels. Both vehicles lurched at the contact, and she was thrown against Dare.

She heard his muffled oath and managed to right herself. But when it happened again, she realized Riddingham had deliberately swung over in an effort to run Dare’s curricle off the road.

It was an insanely dangerous maneuver, Julienne knew, and when they clashed a third time, the wheels nearly locked and both drivers and their passengers were almost flung from their seats. Miss Upcott screamed and clung to Riddingham, while Dare cursed vividly.

His mouth had narrowed in a grim line, Julienne saw, giving him a frantic glance. He would have again tried to pass, she felt sure, but just then they rounded another curve and an approaching farm cart suddenly loomed ahead, directly in their path.

To her surprise, Dare drew back on the reins and eased the pace.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly as they slowed to a trot.

“I like to win, but not at the risk of your life. I would rather not injure my horses either.”

Julienne suspected that in a simple battle of nerves with Riddingham, Dare would have won hands down, but he had her safety to consider as well as his own—and she was frankly glad for his prudence, even if it cost them the race.

But Dare apparently had no intention of conceding.

“Hold tight,” he ordered, guiding the curricle from the road on to a narrow track.

Julienne saw Riddingham’s look of startlement as he glanced back at them, and quelled her own dismay when she realized Dare intended to drive cross-country.

It was a jolting ride, despite the slower pace, and Julienne feared they would snap an axle or one of the traces as they bounced over the uneven ground. But she clung determinedly to the lurching seat, and Dare’s gambit cut off nearly half a mile from the planned route, allowing them to reach the tavern yard a full minute ahead of Riddingham, to a chorus of shouts and cheers from the crowd gathered there.

Dare brought his horses to a plunging halt and waited until an ostler ran to their heads before dragging Julienne into his arms, catching her completely off guard.

“Are you all right?” he demanded. Before she could react, he had covered her mouth with his own and claimed a fierce kiss.

The shock of it momentarily held her immobile, while heat streaked through her.

“God,” Dare murmured, drawing back only slightly. “That bloody fool could have killed you.”

Emotion churned in his darkened eyes, but Julienne couldn’t determine the cause: relief at their surviving the danger, exhilaration at winning the race, or pleasure from kissing her. Perhaps all three.

To the glee of the spectators, Dare gathered her even closer and bent his head once more. Julienne wanted to protest his reckless passion, but her breath fled at the deep thrust of his tongue. Her lips parted of their own accord, and she sighed, surrendering to his mounting ardor.

She was still kissing him as Riddingham drove into the yard. Recalling her surroundings with sudden consternation, Julienne broke free from Dare’s embrace.

At the hint of triumph in his smoldering eyes, she began to wonder if he’d purposely claimed a victory kiss in front of the crowd to suggest that he was winning their wager, or even to taunt his opponent. The possibility vexed her to no end.

The blazing look Dare threw at Riddingham, however, made her fear for the viscount’s safety.

Riddingham appeared furious as well, whether at being bested in the race or because of the kiss, Julienne wasn’t certain.

Miss Upcott, on the other hand, was white-faced. Clearly shaken, she climbed down from the other curricle without assistance and stood trembling in the yard.

With scarcely a glance at his passenger, Riddingham scowled at Dare. “You managed to win, Wolverton, but by foul means. Leaving the road was cheating.”

Beside her, Dare went very still. “I believe our wager was who would reach the tavern first. But as long as we are discussing foul means, what did you intend by nearly forcing us off the road? You could have killed us all with that senseless stunt you pulled.”

Riddingham’s face turned even darker. “You will regret this, Wolverton,” he ground out, obviously reluctant to admit his own unscrupulous actions had cost him the race and the two-thousand-pound wager.

To Julienne’s astonishment, the viscount suddenly whipped up his horses and drove off.

Dare’s ire seemed slightly dimmed by his rival’s rage. “At least we still have dinner to look forward to,” he murmured dryly.

He cast a solicitous glance at Riddingham’s deserted passenger. “Are you all right, Miss Upcott?”

She held a hand to her mouth and shook her head. “I think I may be ill….”

Turning, she stumbled toward the inn.

Uttering a mild oath, Dare leapt down from his curricle. When he reached up for Julienne to assist her, however, she drew back with a look of fierce exasperation.

“I am not at all impressed by your ham-handed tactics,” she declared in a clipped whisper. “Did you never stop to think that savaging Riddingham’s pride is no way to persuade him to divulge secrets?”

Dare narrowed his eyes in surprise. “I savaged his pride?”

“Yes. You resemble foolish boys, fighting over a prize. But you could have found a more intelligent way to deal with him.”

“I hardly consider—”

“Please, spare your breath and go offer your apologies to Miss Upcott.”

Snatching up the reins then, Julienne ordered the ostler to stand back. When he complied, she sent the grays forward at a brisk trot.

She could almost sense Dare’s stupefaction as she drove out of the yard. When he shouted after her, she permitted herself a brief smile. After surrendering so witlessly to his passionate kiss, she needed to show their observers that she was still a match for him.

What she had done—appropriating his curricle and stranding him at a tavern—was no more outrageous than Dare’s usual antics. He would eventually be able to hire some sort of equipage to take poor Fanny Upcott back to London. And
someone
had to follow Riddingham and try to soothe his ruffled feathers. Perhaps, Julienne reflected, she could use the opportunity to discover what the viscount knew about the murdered companion.

It was likely that Dare feared for his horses, but she wouldn’t let them come to any harm. She could tool a curricle more expertly than most women, since one of her beaux in York had taught her. And the grays needed to be cooled down in any case, for their coats were well lathered after their courageous exertions.

But let Dare fret, Julienne thought with more than a hint of defiance. It was time she taught him a lesson.

The arrogant Dare North would learn that he might best most of his opponents, but he wouldn’t win the battle with her.

Chapter

Nine

When Julienne returned Dare’s curricle that afternoon to his home at Cavendish Square, his august butler gave her a severe glance of disapproval before summoning his lordship.

Dare appeared almost immediately. She could sense his simmering anger as he swiftly descended the front steps to the street in order to inspect the condition of his horses.

Julienne watched as he carefully ran his hands over their legs and backs to assure himself the grays were unharmed.

“I promise I didn’t ruin them,” she said blandly. “Indeed, I took the liberty of having them unharnessed and groomed while I was having dinner at the Primrose Inn with a certain mutual acquaintance of ours.”

With a sharp glance at her, Dare ordered a footman to have the horses driven around to the stables. Then he grasped Julienne lightly but firmly by the arm.

“Before I have someone see you home, Miss Laurent, I hope you will do me the honor of taking a glass of sherry with me,” he said, his silken tone brooking no refusal.

“But of course, my lord,” Julienne agreed, keeping her smile to herself.

His mansion, what little she could see of it, was magnificent. She scarcely had time to glance around the vast entryway, which was tastefully adorned with statuary and tapestries and paintings in oils, before Dare ushered her into a spacious salon.

“I trust you have an explanation for stealing my horses,” he said tersely as soon as he shut the door.

“I am so relieved you managed to find your way safely home,” Julienne answered, deliberately taunting him.

She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, but he apparently thought better of giving vent to his anger and playing into her hands. Instead his mouth curved in a reluctant half smile. “I presume you will divulge your reasons in your own good time, my lovely Jewel?”