worth wedlock, to get one’s hands on the Denby Stud.’
‘So she fears. She doesn’t want to marry, she said, and risk losing control over it.’
Alastair nodded. ‘I suppose I can understand. One wouldn’t wish to turn such a prime operation over to some hamfisted looby who couldn’t housebreak a puppy.’
‘How infuriating to see everything you’d worked on, worked for, the last ten years of your life given over to someone else. Ruined, perhaps, and you unable to do anything about it.’
Alastair gave him a searching look, as if he thought Max were speaking more about himself than Miss Denby. ‘Well, I wish her luck. She’s an odd lass, to be sure. But undeniably attractive, even without the inducement of the Denby Stud. Now, if we’re going to catch breakfast, we’d better be going.’ At that, Alastair kicked his mount into motion.
Lagging behind for a moment, Max studied the man across the field, who was now striding back toward the stables. He’d better find out who that was. And continue to keep an eye on Miss Denby.
Chapter Five
After a most satisfactory session at the stream, Max and Alastair returned the trout to the kitchen for Cook to turn into breakfast. While Alastair went on to change out of his fishing garb, Max hesitated by the door to his aunt’s room.
All during their mostly silent camaraderie at the river, rather than concentrate on fish, Max had thought about his aunt’s unusual guest. He’d had, he was forced to admit, to exercise some considerable discipline to keep his thoughts from turning from the serious matter of her situation and the man watching her to memories of her inviting gurgle of a laugh, that enticing bosom and the wonderfully suggestive up-and-down motion of her derrière on the saddle.
Making enquiries of Aunt Grace might seem odd, but while Alastair was otherwise occupied, he probably ought to risk it. If he discovered that the gentleman guests included none but paragons of honour and virtue, he could stop worrying about Miss Denby and dismiss her situation from his mind.
Decision made, he knocked and was bid to enter. ‘Max! This is a pleasant surprise!’ Mrs Ransleigh cried, her expression of mild curiosity warming to one of genuine pleasure. ‘Will you take chocolate with me, or some coffee? I confess, I do feel terrible, I’ve been so poor a hostess to you.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said, waving away her offer. ‘I’ll not stay long enough for coffee; we’re just back from the river, and I’m sure you’d as lief I not leave fish slime on your sofa. You know Alastair and I are quite able to keep ourselves well entertained.’
She flushed. ‘I do appreciate your … discretion. Even as I absolutely deplore the necessity for it! Is there truly no hope of your finding another diplomatic position?’
‘I have some ideas, but there’s no point initiating anything yet while Father is still so angry. You know he has the influence to block whatever I attempt, should he wish to.’
‘That’s so James!’ she cried. ‘Brilliant orator and skilled politician your father may be, but he can be so bull-headed and unreasonable sometimes, I’d like to shake him!’
Though he appreciated his aunt’s sympathy, he’d just as soon not dwell on the painful topic of his ruined prospects. ‘I didn’t stop by to talk about me,’ he parried. ‘How goes your party? Has Jane succeeded in leg-shackling any of the guests? Has Lissa found her ideal mate?’
‘Felicity is enjoying herself immensely, which is all I wished for her, since I have no desire to give her up to a husband just yet! Among the other guests, there are some promising developments, though it’s too early to tell yet whether they will result in engagements.’
Trying for a nonchalant tone, Max said, ‘I happened to encounter one of your young ladies. No, nothing scandalous about it,’ he assured her hastily before, her eyes widening in alarm, she could speak. ‘I met her briefly and by chance one afternoon in the conservatory, where she darted in, she told me, to escape some suitor. A most unusual young woman.’
Aunt Grace laughed. ‘Oh, dear! That must have been Miss Denby! Poor Diana—her stepmother, Lady Denby, an old friend of mine—is quite in despair over the girl. Perhaps you didn’t notice in your quick meeting, but the lady is rather … old.’
Were he pressed to describe what he’d noticed about Miss Denby during that first meeting, Max thought, ‘old’ would not be among the adjectives that came to mind. ‘I must confess, I didn’t notice,’ he replied in perfect truth.
‘She should have had her first Season years ago,’ his aunt continued. ‘But she was her widowed father’s only child. Now that I face having my last chick leave home, I can perfectly understand why he didn’t wish to lose her. She’s a great heiress, though, so Diana hasn’t given up hope yet of her making an acceptable match, even though at five-and-twenty she’s practically on the shelf.’
‘A doddering old age, to be sure.’
‘For a female of good birth and fortune to remain unwed at such an age is unusual,’ his aunt said reprovingly. ‘With her being practically an ape-leader, you’d think she’d be eager to wed, but apparently it’s quite the opposite! Though the poor dear seems intelligent enough, she’s terribly shy in company and possesses not a particle of conversation unrelated to hunting and horses. To make matters worse, though I hesitate to say something so uncharitable about a guest, her taste in clothing is atrocious. I expect, arbiter of fashion that you are, you did notice the dreadful gown.’
‘I did,’ he said drily. Though my attention focused more on the neckline than the trimming. ‘So, there is no one here who wishes to coax her into matrimony?
‘I had high hopes of Lord Stantson. A very knowledgeable horseman, he’s a mature man with a calm demeanour I thought might appeal to her.’ At Max’s raised eyebrow, she said, ‘Many young ladies prefer to entrust their future to the steady hand of an older gentleman, rather than risk all with such dashing young rakes as some I might mention! Mr Henshaw has also been pursuing her, though I have to admit,’ his aunt concluded, ‘she has given neither man any encouragement.’
Henshaw! That was the man who’d been watching her in the paddock this morning, Max realised.
Aunt Grace sighed. ‘Lady Denby is quite determined to get her settled before her own daughter Eugenia makes her début next spring. The poor girl’s chances for making a good match will diminish drastically if she must share her Season with her stepsister, for Eugenia Whitman is nearly as wealthy as Miss Denby and far outshines her in youth, wit and beauty.’
Miss Denby was hardly an antidote, Max thought, indignant on her behalf before he recalled the great pains she’d been taking to ensure she created just the sort of negative impression his aunt was describing.
‘If she seems so unwilling and unsuitable, I wonder that her stepmother keeps pushing her to wed. Why not let her remain at Denby Lodge, with her horses?’
‘Well, she must marry some time,’ Mrs Ransleigh said. ‘What else is she to do? And she’s very, very rich.’
‘Which explains the gentlemen’s pursuit of someone who gives them no encouragement.’ Max had been feeling more hopeful, but some niggle of memory made him frown.
Having spent so much time away
