Yankee Earl (9 page)

      
Of course, the interloper was most probably another pesky poacher, but she still did not want the fool's death or injury on her conscience. Rachel kneed Reddy into the water, cutting across the pool to reach the dogs before they cornered their prey. The worthless horse shied as soon as the water grew deep enough to require that he swim. She forced him to obey, but in the process he splashed her with enough water to drench her and blur her vision. “Venus! Helen! Come!” she commanded loudly as she heard the sound of the man's voice. They did not obey, which was most unusual…and ominous.

      
Then she recognized that voice and almost reined in. If they did tear Jason Beaumont to bits, she would not have to marry him. But of course, that was utterly ridiculous. Guiding Reddy up onto the bank, she blinked the water from her eyes and beheld a sight that made her blood run cold. Jason was on the ground with both dogs on top of him! ‘Oh, please, God, no,” she murmured, then jumped from the gelding's back, shrieking at the mastiffs. “Venus! Helen! Come!”

      
Then it dawned on her why they had not obeyed her commands. Jason's laughter echoed across the clearing. The accursed man was playing with
her
girls! They were rolling and flopping about like a pair of puppies. Striding up angrily, she stood over them, glaring as Jason got to one knee, casually thumping Venus on a haunch.

      
He looked up at Rachel with a big grin splitting his face. “Now, be good girls and sit.” When they both obeyed the command, he could see her bristle with anger.

      
Smothering a good hearty laugh, he turned his attention back to the mastiffs, saying, “You are beautiful young ladies but too forward by half. Rolling about on the grass with a strange man is simply not the done thing, I'm given to understand.” He tsked scolding at them, and they obliged by falling on their sides and fawning adoringly at his feet.

      
“Next time I shall bring Adonis and Paris instead of these two worthless beasts,” she said sweetly. “I doubt you'd charm them quite so easily.”

      
He raised one eyebrow at her and answered, “No, not males of any species…but as to rolling about on the grass with a beautiful female…” He eyed her appreciatively, enjoying it when she looked down with horror at the way her sheer white linen shirt had molded to her breasts.

      
Rachel realized that she was once again at a disadvantage with the lout, thanks to Reddy. Her shirt and britches were soaked, and her hair had come unfastened from its plait in her headlong gallop from the woods. Great masses of damp brown curls hung down her back and spilled over her shoulders. She started to smooth her shirtfront and tuck it back into the waistband of her pants, but caught herself just in time. Instead she tossed her head, sending the heavy hair flying backward as she said, “If you had whispered that lewd comment to me at the ball, I should have been well justified in dumping champagne over your head.”

      
“A pity I didn't think of anything half so improper,” he replied.

      
“My sister is convinced that you're a fearful lecher and that my father should break the engagement at once.”

      
“She's correct about my lechery. Perhaps you could cry off. But then, do you think it possible that your father would make another match, with some fellow even more odious than I?”

      
Rachel started in surprise. That probability had plagued her for weeks before she'd met the Yankee. He was quite bright even if he was an insufferable sap skull. “Although I am loath to admit it, there are men in London worse than you—but only one or two,” she quickly added.

      
He found it difficult to concentrate when she reached up to plait that magnificent chocolate-colored mane. The wet cloth of her shirt clung lovingly to the curves of her breasts, leaving little to his imagination—and Jason had a most excellent imagination. “Men such as Forrestal?”

      
She blinked and pinned him with those clear hazel-green eyes. “What do you know of Etherington's heir, other than that you are the better fencer?”

      
Jason shrugged. “Only that he offered for you and your father turned him down. A wise move that. Forrestal gambles to excess and is so deep in dun territory 'twould take your whole dowry to pay his vowels.”

      
“How fortunate that my father and your grandfather concocted our match instead,” she said ironically. Of course, it would never occur to Jason Beaumont that any man would want her for aught but her dowry. Deep inside, she feared that he was right.

      
“And how fortunate that the viscount has such a clever daughter who has concocted the perfect way to thwart them.” He watched as she began to pace nervously, unable to tear his eyes from the delectable curve of her derriere. Who would ever have imagined a woman could look so inviting in a pair of twill britches?

      
She let him fall in step beside her, the two mastiffs sniffing adoringly at his heels. Fickle creatures. As they walked around the water's edge, Rachel noted the way his long legs perfectly matched her own stride, remembering the way they had danced together at the ball. Forcing her thoughts from such disquieting musings, she reminded him, “You agreed that the best way to approach this problem was to appear resistant to the match at first. My father would have suspected something was amiss if I'd done what was proper at the ball, and I'm equally certain that crafty old marquess would have assigned someone to watch your every move if you'd pretended to agree to their plans.”

      
“You could have warned me that you intended to drown me in champagne,” he said with wry amusement.

      
“It had to look convincing, did it not? I could have broken the Waterford punch bowl over your thick skull.”

      
“I shall attempt to be suitably grateful,” he replied dryly. “When I answer your father's summons to dinner on Friday next, should I be perfunctorily polite to you?”

      
“That would test your acting ability to the extreme. A bit of residual anger is a better idea. I warrant that after your display in the library and what transpired at the betrothal announcement, Papa will expect you to be in a howling rage.”

      
"That I can manage, but gradually we shall have to act civil to each other in their presence if we are to convince them to let down their guard."

      
“Very gradually. Remember, they know us well and would not believe for a moment that we'd simply capitulate. 'Twill take me a bit of time to arrange ship's passage in Bristol, too.”

      
Jason hated having to rely on Rachel's connections in this country to enable him and his foster brother to board a ship bound for America. Hell, if his grandfather had not resorted to using Fox as a pawn, Jason would have been honor-bound to stay. Now all certainty about his future as an earl was in grave doubt. As to wedding Miss Fairchild, he had no doubts at all…or did he?

      
Where the deuce did that come from! Pushing the horrifying notion to the very back of his mind, he turned to her and asked, “How soon do you believe I'll be able to free Fox and return him to America?”

      
Rachel frowned in concentration. She had been considering further ramifications of their plan. In route to Harleigh Hall with Harry, it had become abundantly clear to her that merely foiling the plot to blackmail Jason into marriage would do nothing but postpone the inevitable. Her father would only find another candidate. No matter if she had two heads, with the size of the Harleigh inheritance, someone would agree to marry her; and it could be Forrestal.

      
“It will take several months to work matters out,” she replied cautiously. She dared not reveal her thoughts until she had considered them very carefully. “You must pay social calls at the Hall. Act interested in crops and livestock management. Father will expect that of you, since you will have all the Cargrave properties to run as well as mine. “Oh, and when you discuss merging the estates, do not forget that I shall have to be included in the conversations,” she continued. “Father would be very suspicious if I were not, since I am the one who has run Harleigh for the past six years. There has been a movement gaining some support in Parliament for repeal of the tariffs on wheat…”

      
Jason smiled as she chattered away, making no reply. When she paused and looked up at him, bemused, he said, “You remind me of my mother.”

      
Was that flattering or not? Rachel was uncertain how to take it. But then, why did she give a jot whom he reminded her of? “Oh, and how is that?” she asked levelly.

      
“After my father died, she took over running the plantation. Did a splendid job of it, too, until my sister Margaret married Terrance and he assumed control.”

      
“Isn't that always the way? No matter how competent a woman may be, once a man appears on the horizon, she must, of course, give way and let him take control of everything she's worked so hard to achieve.”

      
He could hear bitterness in her voice…and vulnerability. “My brother-in-law did not take anything away from my mother. She still keeps her hand in running the plantation and gives advice to Terrance. That rapscallion Irishman has been wise to heed it, too. In addition, she has other interests to which she prefers to devote her time now, especially since she's become a grandmother.”

      
“You must miss them,” Rachel said, surprisingly touched by the obvious love he showed for his family.

      
“Aye, I do. God knows, I would that I were with them now, with this earl business well and truly settled.”

      
His tone indicated to her how little he cared for the trappings of the peerage. Rachel felt forced to make a grudging confession. She owed it to him. “When I first heard about the marquess investing you as his heir, I thought you a crass opportunist.” She almost lost her nerve when he looked questioningly at her. Moistening her lips, she continued, “I assumed you'd leaped at the chance to become an earl.”

      
“And betrayed my country to make the bargain?” His voice held an edge.

      
“Yes,” she admitted, meeting his cool blue gaze. “I owe you an apology for that assumption. After I learned that you'd been forced to become Cargrave's heir, I knew I was wrong.”

      
“A handsome apology indeed, Countess. Thank you,” he replied sincerely.

      
When he smiled so honestly at her, without a trace of mockery, her heart turned over. “I must confess, however, when I learned the lengths to which the marquess had gone, blackmailing you into marrying me, it did smart a trifle.”
Why on earth did I say that?
The man had the most disconcerting effect on her!

      
Her wry chuckle did not entirely cover the embarrassment she must have felt. For once, Jason could not think of a teasing retort. Instead, he stopped walking and looked at her intently, saying, “I should be quite surprised if anything could shake the self-confidence of a remarkable woman such as you, Countess.”

      
She reached down nervously and gave Venus a pat as the dog nudged her leg affectionately. “Ah, but our goal is that I never become your countess, is it not?”

      
With horror, he detected the faint flush of pleasure his words had elicited.
Best to play the boorish Yankee sap skull she expects, lest you end up leg-shackled to the chit,
he reminded himself. “That is most certainly true,” he replied, taking a seat on a nearby rock. He leaned back casually and added, “I’d never dream of taking Harleigh Hall away from you.”

      
“Do not be so certain you could take it away, m'lord earl,” she retorted.

      
There was more than a hint of that old imperiousness in her tone. Better that than exchanging further compliments! “If I have learned anything since my most unwilling induction into the peerage, 'tis that men control all lands and titles. Earls outrank countesses—perhaps even duchesses; since, after all, we had the good sense to be born males.”

      
Helen chose that moment to take off after a rabbit, racing into the thickest part of the woods bordering the pool.

      
“Helen, no! Come!” Rachel called out. The mastiff pivoted in mid-bound, but the damage was already done. She had jumped belly deep into a patch of brush and was now obediently retracing her path to her mistress. Rachel backed away, commanding the dog to sit.

      
“What's wrong? You're surely not a tenderhearted female who'd swoon because a dog feasts on a rabbit?” Jason asked, reaching down to thump the dog who sat beside him.

      
Rachel smiled, allowing plenty of time for Helen to nuzzle his face and neck while he petted her. Venus approached, eager for a share of the attention that Jason was lavishing on Helen. Grinning like a rider who has just been awarded the brush at a fox hunt, Rachel replied, “Helen may take all the rabbits she wishes. We're quite overrun with them, and they eat the gardens. However, it is quite a nuisance when she wallows in poison oak. The brush to the south of the pool is quite infested with it, I fear.”