Lord Wincote is pinched in the pocket.’
‘A guess,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen him in years and now he turns up out of nowhere, bold as brass. It makes me cautious.’
‘Fie on you, for your suspicious nature. I’ll wager his coat was tailored at Weston’s and the boots came from Hoby’s. Besides, that horse of his is no broken-backed hack. Men without feathers cannot fly so high.’
‘There is such a thing as credit. And debt, as I should know.’
She was diverted from the subject of Lord Wincote to turn and look searchingly into his face. ‘James, surely you are not—’
‘No, of course not. I was referring to my green days. I am a reformed character, as you are perfectly aware.’
‘So you do not need a rich wife?’
He smiled, unable to resist teasing her, knowing she never took offence and would give back as good as she got. ‘Oh, I would not turn one down simply because she was rich, all other considerations being in her favour.’
‘What other considerations?’
‘Her temperament. She would have to be beautiful and biddable too. I could not abide living under the cat’s paw.’
Surprisingly she did not rise to his bait. Instead she said, ‘And do you not think Lord Wincote might have the same sentiments?’
‘I am not privy to his sentiments, Vinny.’
‘Nor, as far as I can tell, to his true situation. Not that it matters, money is not important…’
‘Only because you have never felt the want of it.’
‘I told you before, I shall marry only when I fall in love. And if I fall in love with a pauper, so be it.’
‘Not with him, surely? He is not worthy of you.’
‘I shall say who is worthy and who is not.’ Her temper was up and he ought to have known better than goad her, because it only made her more determined to further the acquaintance of the young man in question. Too late, he realised the wisdom of silence and drew up at the door of Stanmore House without saying another word.
He jumped down and strode round the phaeton to help her alight. She jumped from the last step and almost fell into his arms. He caught her and held just a fraction longer than he ought to have done, but the feel of her lovely body so close against his sent tremors of desire through him and he wanted to savour the feeling as long as he dared.
‘Will you come in?’ she asked, looking up into his grey eyes and seeing there a look which she could not fathom. It was sadness and tenderness and humour all mixed up together and it confused her. And there was a strange twist to his mouth as if he wanted to smile, but could not, which made her want to ask him what troubled him and to comfort him. ‘Mama might be back.’
He released her reluctantly. ‘Does that mean I am forgiven?’
‘Of course it does, silly.’ The fleeting moment of intimacy was gone. ‘But you must make recompense.’
‘Oh?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘And what might that be?’
‘Take me out in the phaeton again.’
‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’
‘Tomorrow. Early. Seven o’clock.’
‘Now, Vinny, I never said—’
‘You said you would think about it and now you have thought and have decided that there cannot possibly be any harm in letting me take the ribbons in a deserted park. You think you might even enjoy teaching me, always supposing you manage to rise early enough.’
‘Oh, so you are privy to my thoughts, are you?’
‘Of course. You are an open book to me.’
He did not think so, or she would have read the love in his heart, a love which had grown and matured ever since that day, three years before, when he had been introduced to her. His stepmother, who had an unerring sixth sense where he was concerned, had warned him that Lavinia was far too young to be thinking of marriage and, as he was often in one sort of scrape or another, the Duke would never countenance him as a son-in-law until he mended his ways.
Mending his ways had been easy; after all, his misdemeanours had been minor ones, all part of the process of growing into manhood. Changing the way Lavinia looked at him was far harder. She was as elusive as a butterfly, there to be seen and admired, laughing with him, sharing confidences, expecting him to pull her out scrapes, but likely to flit away without warning, leaving him empty-handed. He sighed, just as the Loscoe barouche drew up beside them and the Duchess alighted.
‘James, I had no idea you were in town.’ Almost thirty-eight years old, Frances, Duchess of Loscoe, was as elegantly beautiful and as full of life as a girl half her age.
‘I arrived yesterday, Mama, and, hearing you were here, I came to pay my respects.’
‘And found only Lavinia at home. I am sorry. If I had known…’ She paused to look at the phaeton, while her groom unloaded armfuls of parcels from her carriage and took them into the house. ‘Did you arrive in that?’
‘Yes. I bought it for a song. Its first owner grew tired of it.’ He could not rid himself of the habit of justifying his purchases to her. If it had not been for her careful supervision when he was growing up, he would have dissipated his inheritance before it had been in his hands five minutes. Now, long after he had learned more sense, the habit remained.
‘I am not surprised. It looks very dangerous.’
‘No, it isn’t, Mama,’ Lavinia put in. ‘But it is very exhilarating to ride in.’
‘By that am I to assume you have been for a ride in it?’
‘Only a very little one to the park and James drove very sedately, I promise you.’
Frances made no comment as she led the way into the house and ordered refreshments to be brought to the drawing room. Then she took off her gloves and hat, carefully stroking the long curled feather into place before handing them both to a footman.
‘Now, tell me all your news,’ she commanded her stepson when all three were sitting comfortably with cups of tea in their hands. ‘There is nothing wrong at Twelvetrees, is there?’
‘No, but being a country landlord can be very trying at times, especially with the economy in the state it is. I felt like a little diversion.’
‘You would not feel like that if you were married.’
‘I cannot see how being married would make any difference to the work of the estate.’
‘No, but you might not find is so trying if you had a wife and children to fulfil you.’
‘Oh, Mama, not again, please. I promise to make a push on the matter this Season, will that satisfy you?’ He looked at Lavinia as he spoke, but she was smiling to herself and stroking the tortoiseshell cat which had climbed on to her knee,
