Unbefitting a Lady (10 page)

Sometimes Phaedra wondered why Giles remained suspicious.
Alicia was a decent human being, a good mother to her son. It was impossible to
fathom why a thoughtful, lovely woman would be capable of such an enormous
duplicity. To claim to be married to a future duke was an enormous lie to tell,
one that could see her imprisoned or transported, perhaps even her child taken
from her. Phaedra could not conceive of a reason someone would take such a
risk.

Other times, Phaedra wondered how Alicia knew so much of the
world. She’d told Giles she’d been raised as a vicar’s daughter and that she’d
found genteel employment as a lady’s companion. Those were not worldly positions
and yet Alicia had seemed quite worldly today about the nature of men, as if she
had personal experience with less than honourable gentlemen on more than one
occasion.
I’ve known men like him before. They’re
absolutely charming, they make your insides melt and they make you promises
they don’t intend to keep.

The question was
how
did she know
them? Surely Alicia didn’t classify Jamie among their number, which suggested
this roguish calibre of men were men she’d known before. Again Phaedra was back
to how. How did a discreet lady’s companion meet gentlemen of questionable
repute and not only meet them but consort with them enough to know their true
colours? It did make one wonder if Giles’s suspicions were not completely
misplaced.

Chapter Ten

P
haedra cantered Isolde across the fields,
enjoying the rare warmth of an early-spring day. The heather was starting to
show its purple colour and the grass was looking green instead of brown. Winter
was fading at long last. But spring brought its own sense of urgency. April
meant racing season opened in a month. In the south, it would open in a matter
of weeks and she had yet to ride Warbourne. Until she could mount him and put
him through his paces without fail, she couldn’t begin to look for a jockey.

Tomorrow. She’d mount him tomorrow to celebrate the end of the
first week of April. One week closer to Epsom and one week closer to Aunt
Wilhelmina’s party, the compromise to a Season. If she wouldn’t go to London,
she had to at least tolerate a party—a party with dancing. Ugh.

Giles had drawn the line at that and Phaedra knew it was the
best she could hope for. But she wasn’t looking forward to it. The dress-fitting
this morning had delayed her time in the stables, hence this late-afternoon
ride.

The lake came into view and Phaedra reined Isolde to a halt. A
quick look about her confirmed she was alone. She grinned and slid off the
mare’s back. After all the pins and poking she’d endured for her party gown, she
deserved a treat. She’d go for a quick swim. The water was bound to be cold, but
it would be private. No one else would be mad enough to dare the chilly
waters.

Phaedra made a quick picket for Isolde and headed towards the
lake shore, pulling her shirt tails from her waistband as she went. At the
lake’s edge, she bent and pulled off her boots. That’s when she noticed. She
wasn’t as alone as she’d thought on first glance. There was a horse picketed on
the west edge of the lake, out of her initial view, a tall chestnut that looked
remarkably like...Merlin.

Phaedra switched her gaze to the lake’s grey surface but she
knew what she’d find before she saw him. It wasn’t as if there’d be a stranger
out there. This was Castonbury land, after all.

There was someone else mad enough to brave the lake. Bram was
striking towards the west shore with long easy strokes. Was there anything he
wasn’t
good at? He could ride, he could swim and
he could kiss. Lord, how he could kiss! Every time she was with him there was
something new and exciting to explore. He was the kind of man mothers warned
their daughters about and he made no apologies for it.

Phaedra debated making a quiet exit. No good could come of
being out here with him and one of them naked! Especially after his proposition
in the riding house, a proposition she’d yet to officially answer.

Phaedra bent to pick up her boots and took a step backwards,
hoping slow movements wouldn’t catch his eye. But luck was in short supply. He
caught sight of her and changed his direction. So much for making a quiet
disappearance. If she was gone when he reached shore, he would know she’d run.
There was nothing to do but stand her ground.

Phaedra crossed her arms and assumed a stance she’d seen Giles
use when he wanted to promote his dominance. At least she’d noticed Bram before
she’d taken off any significant piece of
her
clothing which was more than she could say for him. The angel on her shoulder
hoped he’d have the decency to stay in water that covered him. The devil on the
other hoped he wouldn’t. An illicit trill ran through her at the prospect of
what might be revealed.

Bram reached the shallows and began to wade towards shore, the
water receding to showcase his muscled chest and lean hip bones before he
stopped, making Phaedra well aware that the downward angle of his musculature
pointed the way to the unknown beneath the water.

‘Coming for a swim?’ His gaze landed on her bare feet where
they squished in the mud.

‘I was but you stole my lake.’

‘It’s still your lake. No one’s stopping you. Come on in. I’d
say the water was fine but it’s not. It’s absolutely frigid.’ His blue eyes
dared her to join him.

Water dripped from his dark hair and he looked like a veritable
Adam in the garden, primal and handsome. For a moment her wilder side was
tempted. But then she recalled other things that happened in the garden, other
things like sin.

‘It looks like you’re not sure though,’ Bram challenged
good-naturedly. ‘If you want to swim, you should. Really, Phaedra, what’s the
worst that can happen?’

‘You tell me.’

Bram threw back his head and laughed. ‘
Worst
is not one of the words ladies use to describe what happens
with me.’

‘Well, it might be one of the words Giles uses to describe you.
If he knew half of what we’ve done, you’d be finished here.’

Bram shrugged. ‘Then it hardly matters what we do now. The
damage is apparently already accomplished.’ He held out a hand. ‘Come on in,
Phaedra. You know you want to.’ He cocked a dark eyebrow, looking irresistible.
‘Unless...you’re afraid?’

Phaedra fixed with him a thunderous glare, curiosity getting
the better of her by a long shot. ‘
Those
are
fighting words.’ She stripped down to her undergarments—a modified chemise that
came to her waist and custom-made smalls she wore beneath her breeches—and
strode into the icy water. She was Phaedra Montague. She wasn’t afraid of
anything, certainly not of Bram Basingstoke’s hot blue eyes, and she was going
to prove it.

* * *

Lucifer’s stones, she’d actually done it! Bram grinned
in appreciation. Phaedra’s adventurous spirit had not failed him. Phaedra
splashed at him as she strode past, the movements of her lithe body reminding
him that the thin garments she wore offered very little real protection from
male eyes. Once she was wet, there’d be no protection at all. She executed a
shallow dive, striking out for deeper water. ‘Race you to the island!’

Bram dove and followed. He was a strong swimmer but Phaedra had
a head start and hadn’t already spent herself swimming vigorous laps in the
lake. The island was about two hundred yards out in centre of the lake and Bram
pushed hard to catch her but Phaedra reached the shore a body length ahead.

‘Remember, we have to swim back.’ Bram started to pull himself
out of the water, weighing the disadvantages of full emergence. Now that the
excitement of the race was over, his own nakedness had not escaped him. Did he
risk freezing in the lake and stay decently covered to play the gentleman or did
he walk up on shore in all his glory and venture making a bad first impression?
Admittedly, the cold water had affected his ‘glory’ somewhat. The devil in him
wanted to stalk out of the water and see what Phaedra made of his altogether,
even if it was slightly less than standard at the moment.

In the end, Phaedra decided for him. She faced him squarely on
the beach, hands on hips, either not caring or else oblivious to the way her
undergarments clung to her skin. ‘Are you going to stay in the water all day? I
wouldn’t have you freeze for modesty’s sake. It’s not like I haven’t seen a
pizzle before.’

Bram laughed, his body rousing in spite of the cold. He loved a
vibrant woman who was sure of herself, even if she shouldn’t be, and Phaedra was
as vibrant as they came.

‘A horse and a man are two different things,’ Bram warned with
a wicked smile, coming closer. He fully intended to call her bluff. If she
wanted him to stop, she’d have to ask after having made that bold statement.

‘I know,’ she shot back. ‘I have brothers.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Bram gained the shore, thankful to be out of
the water. The island was quiet, unaffected by the wind that blew along the
shoreline. Bram was thankful for the small bit of warmth the stillness afforded.
‘You know what they say, “once revealed, never concealed.”’

Phaedra gave a most unladylike snort. ‘That sounds like one of
Aunt Wilhelmina’s sayings.’ But she wasn’t indifferent, Bram noted with
satisfaction. For all her vaunted experience with stallions, her eyes had a hard
time focusing elsewhere in spite of her valiant effort.

This was definitely one of her more endearing
qualities—supposed worldliness mixed with untried curiosity. He’d not been wrong
about her in Buxton. She was exciting.

Her hair hung in a thick wet plait over one shoulder, her
undergarments clung, outlining the delectable fullness of her breasts and the
slim curve of her hip. She was every man’s dripping-wet fantasy, which was
rapidly being confirmed by signs of life in his nether regions. Bram could set
aside concerns of making a bad first impression and worry instead about the very
opposite.

She’d not mentioned his proposition. He could only assume she’d
stumbled on him by accident. That being the case, he hoped they wouldn’t stay
long. There was no reason to linger on the island considering the weather and
the state of their garments or lack of them. Unless, came the thought, she’d
sought him out deliberately. Perhaps she’d decided on her answer.

‘Too bad there isn’t a fire waiting for us,’ Bram joked, not
nearly as at ease with the situation as he’d thought he’d be. He was used to
women watching his body, women seeing him naked, seeing him in various states of
arousal, but Phaedra’s untutored gaze was proving to be far more arousing than
the jaded eyes of London’s fast widows and wives.

‘There is, if you want to make one.’ Phaedra busied herself
pushing aside a clump of foliage, revealing an old wooden chest with iron
bindings. She lifted the lid with a grunt. ‘In the summers, we’d spend the day
out here, my brothers, my sister and me. We’ve never really outgrown keeping a
few supplies out here.’ She tossed him an old quilt and took one for herself.
‘There’s dry wood and flint in the trunk too.’

Bram took the quilt and wrapped it about his waist. ‘You’re a
regular Robinson Crusoe.’

‘It’s hard not to be when you have four brothers who were mad
for all the adventure stories.’ Phaedra sobered and corrected herself. ‘Had. I
mean,
had
four brothers. Now I guess I just have
two.’

Bram set to work laying a small fire. ‘You have a good family,
one that loves one another. You’re lucky.’ He struck the flint, watching the
sparks ignite. ‘I don’t know about Aunt Wilhelmina, of course, but your brother
seems devoted.’ Phaedra might not recognise how fortunate she was on that
account. He’d seen too many young women compelled to marry simply because their
family demanded it or were forced to it, exiled out of the family home because
the males hadn’t provided for them. His own sister had been a victim of the
former. He doubted Giles would ever compel Phaedra to unwillingly take a
husband.

‘Aunt Wilhelmina means well but her ideas about life are a bit
limiting and archaic.’ Phaedra tugged her quilt about her, covering up her
curves. ‘She’s been with us since my mother died. She’s really the only mother
I’ve known, for whatever that’s been worth. Raising us was a labour of duty to
her, not necessarily a labour of love.’ Phaedra gave a telltale shrug beneath
the quilt and stared into the little fire. ‘I was only four when she came to
live with us. I don’t remember my mother.’

It bothered her, Bram thought, settling beside the fire. She’d
given one of those shrugs of hers meant to communicate complacency when it
implied the opposite. She cared very much that she didn’t remember her
mother.

‘What happened?’ Bram probed gently, his own curiosity
piqued.

‘When I was younger, I was told it was a fever. But later, Kate
hinted it might have been a miscarriage.’

‘Childbed fever, perhaps.’

Phaedra gave him a soft smile. ‘Perhaps. All I remember now are
nuances—a smell, a gesture, a tone, just shadows really. There are portraits, of
course, but those are someone else’s memories imposed on mine. She was beautiful
and kind and father doted on her.’

‘Ah, it was a love match, then?’ That would be something rare
indeed in the high echelons of dukes. Dukes seldom had that luxury.

Phaedra shook her head. ‘Not love but something very close to
it. My father is like any other man of his rank. He has his bastards. But he and
mother dealt well together and he was affectionate.’ Hope and disappointment
warred in that comment. Hope that something more than an arranged marriage was
possible and disappointment that the one marriage she knew of had fallen short
of that.

‘We don’t talk about her very much any more.’ Phaedra gave him
a long considering look, her head tilted to one side. ‘I think you’re the first
person I’ve ever told. I wonder what that means? I feel like I’ve packed her up
and put her away somewhere but now I can’t remember where that is.’

Phaedra began undoing the long braid. It was an entirely
feminine gesture. The quilt slipped from one shoulder as she raised an arm and
she shivered.

‘Here, let me do that for you,’ Bram offered so she could stay
warm. ‘Turn sideways a little.’ He unravelled the long strands and drew his
fingers gently through them in a combing motion. The fire was growing hot now
and the little beach was actually comfortable. They could stay awhile
longer.

‘What about your family?’ Phaedra asked, her train of thought
still running along that same line. It wasn’t his favourite topic.

‘I have a sister and a brother, both older.’ If he’d been born
second, there’d have been no need for a third child. But his father had been
adamant he have his spare. Bram’s sister had not been enough.

‘And your parents?’ Phaedra prompted.

‘Both still alive. Your hair is much darker wet. It looks like
wild honey.’ He tried to redirect the discussion. His family was not worth the
conversation. But Phaedra would not be deterred.

‘Do you see them often?’

‘No, my father is something of a...well, suffice it to say that
we don’t get along.’ That was putting it mildly. He’d never quite lived up to
his father’s expectations. It had become something of a game to see just how
disappointing he could be before his father cut him off entirely. This last
escapade which had landed him in Derbyshire had nearly done it.