Double Deception (14 page)

Athena could not help but unbend towards her betrothed as she watched the patience and affection he displayed in going over all the names of the saddle parts with her daughter, showing her not once but several times how to tighten the girth and measure the length of the stirrups before mounting.

So absorbed was she in watching Penny listening in rapt attention to Peregrine's explanations that she did not realize they had company until a deep voice spoke her name.

"Mrs. Standish," the earl remarked smoothly, coming to a halt beside her, "I am delighted to see you once more among us. I trust you have fully recovered from your indisposition?"

Athena felt that this double-edged remark was deliberately phrased to fluster her, but she refused to rise to the bait. Favoring him with a sweeping glance that did not meet his eyes, she murmured a polite response and turned to greet his companion.

Miss Rathbone looked, if anything, Athena thought—a cold stone settling in her stomach—more stunning than ever this afternoon. The Beauty was arrayed in a fanciful habit of the palest primrose yellow, adorned with gold-braided epaulettes and brass buttons on jacket and cuffs. It occurred to Athena that it was vastly unfair for a blonde to look so ravishing in that shade, but Miss Rathbone's abundant gold ringlets, topped by a dashing military-style bonnet, had not only Peregrine but all the stable-lads gawking in admiration.

The Beauty did not waste any time in demanding, in that lilting voice that grated on Athena's nerves, that Peregrine—the fact that she made no bones about using his name was not lost on the widow—immediately set her up in her saddle and review the correct ways to hold the reins.

To Athena's everlasting chagrin, Perry seemed only too delighted to do so, leading the Beauty on her docile little bay mare into the adjoining paddock to begin the lesson.

"What about me, Perry?" Penelope mumbled querulously, and Athena felt a surge of anger at the viscount for abandoning her daughter for a scheming hussy. She turned to assist Penny herself, but the earl was there before her, swinging the child up and settling her carefully in the saddle.

"Miss Rathbone must be addle-pated," Athena heard her daughter confide innocently to the earl. "We learned all that about the reins yesterday, and she seems to have forgotten already."

"Hush, Penny," Athena said hastily. "That is not at all polite of you."

"But it is true," her daughter insisted, causing Lord St. Aubyn to laugh aloud. "Now, lead Buttercup into the paddock if you please," Penny instructed the earl unself-consciously, much to Athena's amusement. "I wish to show Mama what I learned yesterday."

"You have a charming daughter, madam," the earl murmured as Penny trotted around the paddock to demonstrate her new abilities.

Athena kept her eyes fixed on her daughter, but she was very conscious of the man lounging beside her, one arm draped casually along the top of the fence. What had brought his lordship down to the stables this afternoon? she wondered. Should he not be in his study working on that treatise he had mentioned over dinner several evenings ago? And if he thought to draw her into idle conversation by praising her daughter, he would be disappointed, she thought. For there was nothing at all she had any wish to discuss with the wretch.

At that moment Penelope pulled her pony to a stop beside the fence. "What do you think, Mama?" she demanded, joy and excitement in every line of her little body. "Is Buttercup not the sweetest goer you have ever seen?"

Athena stared at the fat little pony seriously for a moment before nodding her head and trying not to smile at her daughter's enthusiasm and the cant expression she had doubtless picked up from Perry. "I believe you are right, dear. She is indeed a fancy pacer, and you handle her very well indeed."

"And what do you think, my lord?" the little girl demanded daringly, turning to the earl with a shy smile.

"I think you have the makings of a bruising rider, my dear," he drawled with obvious amusement.

Athena felt a glow of pleasure. She had not expected the earl to show any consideration at all for a little girl's feelings, but he had surprised her. Could it be that his lordship actually liked children? she wondered, stealing a glance at the man beside her. His smile was all for Penelope at the moment, and there was a touch of wistfulness in it that caught her off guard.

She was still staring when he looked at her, his blue-black eyes dark with a longing Athena could not identify. And then the look was gone, replaced by cynical amusement.

"A few more lessons and you will rival your mother, Penelope. What is Perry going to teach you today?"

"I shall learn how to canter," Penny said proudly. "And then to gallop. And then to jump over hedges, so I can join the hunt next spring."

"Whoa!" the earl exclaimed, his lips twitching with amusement. "I can see you are a fast learner, young lady, but you will need a larger mount before you can take to the fields with the hunt. I think you should learn everything you can from Buttercup first. Perry learned to ride on her when he was a lad, did he tell you? And look what a bruising rider he is. You wish to ride as well as Perry, do you not?"

"No," Penelope responded with a grin, which Athena noticed was mirrored on the earl's face. "I want to ride like Mama. She is a bruising rider, too, you know."

Athena was conscious of the earl's leisurely gaze moving over her face. "Yes, I know, my dear. Your Mama is certainly a good rider."

"My Mama is good at everything," her daughter announced innocently, turning her smile on Athena, who had tensed at the implications of Penny's words.

"Yes," the earl drawled after a short pause, his voice suddenly husky and oddly sensuous. "I can certainly vouch for that, young lady. Your Mama is an extraordinary woman indeed."

Athena froze, but before she could put a stop to her daughter's indiscreet chatter, Penny continued happily, seemingly unconscious of the undercurrents of tension her words had set off between the adults. "That is what Perry always says. I am glad you think so, too."

"And did Perry also tell you not to let your horse stand about, I wonder?" Athena put in quickly, not daring to look at the gentleman beside her.

"Of course, he did, Mama. Perry knows everything." 

"Perhaps not quite everything," the earl's voice drawled
sotto voce,
and Athena imagined she heard the echo of a threat in his words.

"When you and Lord St. Aubyn come back from your ride, I shall show you how well I can canter, Mama."

Athena heard her daughter's happy voice through a fog of panic. No, she thought, she could not ride out alone with this man. She dreaded the threats he was bound to make. But more than that, she dreaded what he might do.

Her head seemed unnaturally light, and she wondered if she were about to embarrass herself by swooning again. Athena could remember swooning only once before in her entire life— when her father had come to tell her that her mother had finally succumbed to influenza. That was before she had encountered Lord St. Aubyn, who had triggered this display of weakness two days ago, and appeared about to do so again unless she pulled herself together immediately.

"I think I shall forego my ride today," she heard herself murmur in a voice that sounded nothing like her own. "I do not feel quite the thing, darling."

"But Tom has already saddled Tarantella for you, Mama."

"I know, dear, but I do not think—"

"Nonsense, my dear Mrs. Standish," the earl said bracingly, a wicked light in his eyes. "A ride is just what you need to put the roses back in your cheeks."

Athena saw with alarm that the earl had waved to the groom who stood holding her mare. The mention of roses had convinced her that he was toying with her. It also reminded her that she had not yet thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

Thoughtfulness? Or was it perversity? she wondered.

"I would rather not, my lord," she protested, as he reached for her and lifted her into the saddle. To everyone who witnessed this normal courtesy, he must appear no more than the gracious host, Athena realized helplessly. And had his hands not lingered longer than necessary on her waist, and had they not slipped down imperceptibly to brush her hips; had he not guided her foot into the stirrup, his hand curled suggestively— and out of everyone's sight—around her booted ankle, Athena might have been able to persuade herself that he was nothing more than an attentive host.

But the pounding of her heart told her different.

"I think we should wait for Perry, my lord," she said, trying to sound reasonable, calm, collected, in control of her emotions.

"I am sure that Perry would urge you to enjoy yourself, Athena," he replied softly, his voice a caress that set her blood racing again, as it had in the darkness of the dungeon. And the fiend had used her name again, she noted, unable to still the trembling of her fingers as he handed her the reins.

She knew that the earl had spoken nothing but the truth. In his innocence, Perry would see nothing improper in his betrothed riding out with his father. Why should he? He trusted them both implicitly. How misplaced that trust, she thought miserably.

Athena forced herself to look down into the dark eyes of Lord St. Aubyn. The wicked glitter she saw there, and the even more wicked grin on his sensuous mouth, confirmed what she had already suspected.

Her prospective father-in-law was bent on seducing her.

***

Sylvester gazed up into the tawny golden eyes of his son's betrothed, and his grin slowly faded. She looked truly magnificent, he thought wryly, small chin raised defiantly, face pale with anger, eyes cool and challenging. But then he saw her mouth tremble, and Sylvester felt the sharp ache of desire. Behind that brave front, the little widow was afraid. And she had every reason to be, he mused cynically, watching in fascination as that sensuous mouth trembled more noticeably.

Resolutely, he dragged his gaze back to her eyes, and what he saw there gave him a perverse kind of pleasure. She had read his mind and knew exactly what he was about.

Well, so much the better, he thought. After what had happened in the dungeon, there was no room for pretense between them. He could hold that kiss as a threat over the widow's pretty head, and well she knew it. What she did not know—and Sylvester had no intention of letting her guess it—was that he would never run to his son with tales of his widow's peccadilloes. Causing Perry pain had never been a part of his plan to get rid of Mrs. Standish, and Sylvester could well imagine how crushed and hurt his son would be to discover that his own father had kissed his betrothed.

And worse yet, the widow had enjoyed that kiss. Sylvester could see it in her eyes even now. Her very reticence betrayed her. Had she not just attempted to escape riding out alone with him? And would it be too presumptuous of him to believe she was afraid of what he might do? Afraid of what she might
allow
him to do?

His grin returned, and he saw Athena's gaze slide away nervously. Sylvester had not felt so aroused by a female in years. The informal arrangement he had with a lady of relaxed morals over in Camelford had served him well enough for several years, but Betsy had never—even in the first months of their affair—made him feel ten years younger. Perry's widow had made his blood run hot again, and it was just as well that there would be no marriage between them. The prospect of living the remainder of his life under the same roof with this woman if she belonged irrevocably to his son was unthinkable.

Sylvester swung himself into the saddle and gentled the restive chestnut. In the paddock Perry was walking a very talkative Miss Rathbone slowly up and down, stopping every five paces to position the Beauty's hands more firmly on the reins. The lady's ploy was so transparent, Sylvester marveled that his son had not seen her drift. Sitting silently on her pony, Penelope watched the pantomime impatiently. Catching his glance, the child waved at him, a smile lighting her small face.

Sylvester waved back, feeling again the nostalgia tug at his heart for the daughter he and Adrienne had never had.

Pushing these mawkish thoughts to the back of his mind, Sylvester turned his horse to follow Mrs. Standish out of the stable-yard. Her back was ramrod-straight, and she did not glance his way as he brought Ajax abreast of her mare. As soon as they had left the house behind them, she urged Tarantella into a canter, choosing the open meadows rather than the bridle path through the Hanging Wood, as Sylvester had hoped she would. He needed to be private with the delectable Mrs. Standish. She must be prodded into accepting his more than generous offer to give up this idea of marrying his son, he mused, watching her lengthen the mare's stride as they approached a hedge.

The elegance with which the widow took the jump reminded him sharply of Adrienne, who had loved to ride. But his wife would have glanced teasingly at him over her shoulder, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, daring him to chase her up the hill to the big oaks that had stood sentinel over St. Aubyn land for centuries. Daring him to catch her...

Athena Standish displayed no such playfulness, and it was pure coincidence that when she reached the top of the hill, she drew rein to admire the view. Spellbinding, Adrienne had always called it, and indeed it was, Sylvester thought, although words were a poor substitute for the grandeur of the prospect that lay before them.

As always, he was awestruck by the impassive majesty of a land that had harbored his family for so many generations. The blood of his forefathers had been spilled defending this plot of England, and every time he rode around the vast estate, Sylvester felt the pull of his blood linking him to the past.

He glanced at his companion and wondered what schemes and ambitions lay behind those amber eyes. It suddenly angered him to think of a fortune hunter daring to invade the patrimony his father had placed in his hands years ago.

"Magnificent, is it not?" he drawled.

"Oh, much much more than that," she whispered in a hushed voice. "It is simply breathtaking."

He allowed himself a cynical smile at the awe in her voice. "No doubt you are thinking that it would be no small thing to be mistress of all this," he said with deceptive softness, observing her closely.