The Diabolical Baron (15 page)

There was a minor debacle when the fox was cor
nered; the clumsy female somehow got her horse tan
gled with the hounds and the quarry had escaped. It
was a horrendous breach of hunting etiquette and the Master had been furious until he had a closer look at
the transgressor.

Jason was by this time near enough to
see her, and he would have gasped if he’d had the
breath for it. The female was very young, very contrite,
and incredibly, breathtakingly lovely. She wore an emerald-green velvet riding habit that matched her
eyes, and long strands of bright auburn hair blew
across her clear rose-petal skin.

She batted her eye
lashes as she apologized to the Master. So sorry! Over
come with excitement! The horse too strong for her;
she would be ever so careful in the future! It would
never happen again!

The Master, a retired general known for his steely eye and peremptory manners, harrumphed and mut
tered and even, Jason would have sworn, blushed. She
was a foolish gel and had best be more careful in the
future, but demmed if he’d ever seen a female who
could ride like her. Best stay by him till they struck an
other scent and he’d explain the rules of the hunt to
her.

Did she know the fox that escaped was old Rufus,
the wiliest beast in the shires? He’d been trying to
catch the critter for years.

Oh, she hadn’t known, so
sorry, General.

Well, the fox had led them on merry
chases before, and perhaps he would again. She wasn’t
to worry her pretty little head about it.

Jason had watched the little drama with deep appre
ciation. She might have fooled the Master, but no one
who watched closely could think she wasn’t in control
of her horse. The gelding should have bolted or
thrown her in that mad tangle of hounds, but she had
shown effortless mastery. He saw the mischievous gleam under the fluttering lashes and would wager
the minx had deliberately caused the incident so the
fox could escape.

The Master and the girl rode off together, but Jason tested his theory at a hunt ball later that week. He had
discovered her name was Jessica Westerly. Her father
was the Honorable Gilbert Westerly, youngest son of a
viscount, known as a gamester with never a feather to
fly with. He spent his time moving from one great
house to another, playing cards and paying the shot
with lavish quantities of easy charm. The chit would
be making her come-out in the spring; apparently he
had brought her along so she could test her social
wings in a more informal setting.

Based on what Jason could see, the wings had
passed the test with superlative ease. There wasn’t a
man in the room unaware of Miss Westerly. They com
peted for her dances, for the right to fetch her orgeat,
for a single glance of those dazzling green eyes. While
two gentlemen were politely disputing the right to her
next dance, Jason had swept her away.

She was dressed with great propriety in a white
muslin gown edged with green embroidery to match
her eyes. He accused her of letting the fox escape because it was a relative of hers since they shared the
same coloring. She answered with rich laughter ac
knowledging his hit, and he was lost.

The next two weeks had been sheer magic. Their
constant companionship inspired excited gossip
amongst the old quizzes, but Jessica gave no sign of
noticing. During the hunts they hurled themselves
across the shires with the mad confidence of those too
young to believe in their own mortality. Jason had
never known a rider to equal her.

They danced to
gether at evening parties, shared meals and mischief,
talked of whatever entered their heads. While no
words of love were exchanged, Jason was sure his
every thought and feeling found an echo in her.

The
only small cloud came when he showed too much in
terest in a famous society hostess known for her taste
in young men. Jessica treated him with ruthless civility
for nearly three hours. Delighted by this sign of jeal
ousy, he teased her out of the mood by evening’s end.

On the night of the last formal hunt ball at the local
great house, they had slipped outside under the full
wintry moon. The night was bitterly cold, the garden a
silvery enchantment belonging to them alone. For timeless moments they shared an embrace that left
them both shaken. Jason had had his fair share of ex
perience with women, but he had never before felt
such passion and awed tenderness.

Jessica’s response
was inexperienced but as enthusiastic as his own. Tak
ing her back to the ball was the hardest thing he had ever done, and would have been impossible had his
protectiveness not exceeded even his desire.

The next day he called early at the house where she
stayed and asked her to go riding. No one could keep
up when they chose to exert their horsemanship. They
easily lost the groom detailed to Miss Westerly’s pro
tection, finally stopping and dismounting under a
broad-armed chestnut tree. He kept his hands off her
with great difficulty while he stammered his proposal
in a stiff, brusque voice, saying how much he admired
her beauty, how proud he would be to have her as his
wife.

He’d never forgotten the expression on her face
changing from eager trust to shock, pain, and then blazing anger. She had cursed him in language she
shouldn’t have known, mounted her horse, and was
gone while he was still reeling.

He had thought he
knew her to the depths of his soul, and found he did
not know her at all. Perhaps the anger was because she
thought of him as a friend, and was outraged when he acted the lover? She had not kissed him as if he were
only a friend. Had she been insulted by the proposal of
a young man with so little to offer her? But he had
never discussed his circumstances. Or perhaps the
night before was the casual experiment of a girl prac
ticing her wiles on someone who didn’t matter. That
was the worst thought of all.

Hurt beyond words, two hours later Jason had
packed and left his friend’s house and was on his way
to the small estate near Newmarket he had inherited from his mother. It was three months before he ventured out where friends or family could see him, and
even then George Fitzwilliam complained he was like
a bear with a sore ear.

He spoke to no one of what had
happened, and he swore never to be so vulnerable
again. When he heard a few months later that the Di
vine Miss Westerly had confounded society by marry
ing a soldier of no great wealth or consequence, he
merely raised a bored eyebrow and changed the sub
ject.

Over the next years Jason turned his small estate
into one of the finest horse-breeding farms in Britain.
His hunters and racehorses were renowned for speed
and endurance, his matched carriage teams without
peer. When he went to town for the Season, men
sought him out for equine advice, youths admired his sporting prowess, and women cast their lures to him.
He was known as a devil with the ladies, always ready
for an affair with a married woman but never giving
away the smallest part of his heart.

When his brother’s unexpected death made him Lord Radford, he became even more sought after, and more cynical. The match
making mamas had been worse than the hot-eyed ma
trons.

His dynastic feelings were strong enough that he de
cided to marry, but he expected no particular pleasure.
It had been a pleasant surprise when Caroline seemed
to want nothing from him, in spite of her avaricious fa
ther. He had become confident of winning her affec
tion as her shyness abated, so the union would be
comfortable for them both.

Now his well-laid plan was blown to flinders. Who
would have dreamed the long-lost Jessica could be
Caroline’s aunt? Or that her presence could still upset
him so? Just shock, of course, but it was going to be
deuced awkward having her around the house. Run
ning into her in the halls, sharing coffee in the break
fast parlor—his stomach twisted sharply at the
thought.

A soft canine whimper brought him back to the pre
sent. He found he had drawn the stallion to a halt and
was staring west toward the Welsh hills. Rufus had
found him and was now trying to attract his attention.

He smiled without humor as he realized for the first
time that he’d named his dog after the plaguey fox that
had first drawn his attention to Jessica. What other
tendrils had she left in his life?

He set the horse to a trot and signaled Rufus to fol
low him. The first thing was to get more people into
the house. He had deliberately avoided a house party,
to be more private with Caroline, but that was less im
portant than his peace of mind. He must invite George,
whose social skills had smoothed many a rocky path.
Perhaps his friend would fall in love with Jessica and get her off Jason’s hands.

Oddly, the thought failed to please.

Aunt Honoria would come with her en
tourage. She wanted to meet the future Lady Radford,
and it would be a courtesy to invite her. He was sure
Lady Edgeware could keep even the most obstreper
ous redhead in check. The thought of the two women
colliding brought a genuine chuckle; talk of an irre
sistible force meeting an immovable object!

Why couldn’t the damned woman have had the
sense to marry a man who wouldn’t get himself killed?

By the time he returned to the house his plans were
laid. While waiting for his new guests to arrive, he
would find some pressing business to take him away
for a few days. It was very rude to leave Caroline, but
she would have her aunt to bear her company. She
would hardly miss him.

He must remember to think of her as an aunt.

His unruly mind took over again. She called you Jason
in the carriage. But that was of no significance; she had
merely forgotten herself in amusement as he was sav
aged by her beastly cat. It meant nothing. After all, she
had been married and traveled widely and must
hardly remember a foolish boy’s ridiculous calf love.
Is
that what you want—for her to have forgotten?

Even to himself, he couldn’t answer that.

Just remember that she is Mrs. Sterling, his aunt.
Like Lady Edgeware. The voice in his head made a
rude and untranslatable noise. Well, not quite like
Aunt Honoria. And what was he doing carrying on a
conversation with himself? There was just barely time to dress before dinner.

Satisfied that events would soon be under control
again, he strode up the steps of Wildehaven.

* * * *

Caroline had tried to rest before dinner, but sleep
eluded her. After half an hour she rose and found her lute and absently strummed as she considered how to
behave in the coming days. After all, she was setting a course for the rest of her life, and should begin wisely.
Lord Radford—Jason—presumably wanted a gracious
chatelaine to run his household comfortably and un
obtrusively.

Actually, Mrs. Burke probably did that,
but Lady Radford should at least know what was
going on. She must try to look older, and be careful not
to be too absentminded.

As for Jason himself
...
he still alarmed her, but per
haps he couldn’t help having those eyebrows or that forceful voice. Certainly he had never been unkind.
She suspected that missish behavior would give him a
disgust of her, so she must appear more confident. Try
not to quiver like a rabbit when he looks at you, she
scolded. And do not always assume the worst of
him—perhaps he has a shy, sensitive soul hidden deep
inside.

She smiled involuntarily at the thought. While
everyone had unsuspected depths, it was impossible
to imagine that Lord Radford’s included shyness.