His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (20 page)

“Juliana, give me your hand,” he commanded. “You will come with me.”

Juliana made to protest, but Lucius silenced her with a
cold, stern look.

“With me, Juliana. I will not brook opposition.”

“My Lord,” Juliana said quietly and gave him her hand. He assisted her from the carriage, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and without a backward glance proceeded to return to the stands. Juliana, for all her height and long legs, had trouble keeping step with him. Her lavender kid slippers were not designed for walking and she begged him to slow down to accommodate her uncertain steps.

“I am extremely displeased with you, Juliana,” he said without
looking at her. “How could you have allowed this to happen?”

“You know?” Juliana gasped, looking up at him.

“Do you take me for a fool?” her brother raged. “Miss Devereux has gone beyond the pale, and well you know it. How could you both engage in such monstrous impropriety?”

Trying to recover her composure
and remembering that Lucius could not yet know of Lady Darnley’s accusations, Juliana straightened her back and tilted her chin.

“I thought you had no care for propriety, Lucius.”

“For myself, no,” replied Lucius sharply. “But I am not a country innocent contending with my first Season. Now, do take a seat and partake in some refreshment of which I am sure you must be in dire need.”

He
guided her into the shade of a marquee behind the stands. It was set with tables and chairs, servants on duty about its perimeter ready to cater to its patrons.

Juliana sank thankfully o
nto the seat Lucius placed for her. Her slippers had rubbed a blister on the inside of her right foot and she surreptitiously rubbed the toe of her left slipper against it. Really, Lucius could be so high handed she thought, but then her own plight dawned on her.

Although her brother’s ward, she was unchaperoned
without even a maid to attend her, the very circumstance that brought Emmaline back into her life.

In response to Lucius’ request
, a servant came forward bearing a tray with teapot and cup and saucer. Beamish joined them, smiling with pleasure upon seeing her.

“So good to see you, Juliana,” he said, bending over her outstretched hand. “
So you’ve decided to favour the Sport of Kings at last?”

“
Not really,” stammered Juliana, feeling her face getting warm. “It was a mere circumstance that brought me here today.”

“And a very good circumstance, if I may say so,” replied Beamish, pulling up a chair beside hers. “Your brother
thinks he has picked the winner and is even now conversing with Mr. Thornhill, whose horse it is.”

Juliana looked to where William pointed and saw Lucius talking to a very large gentleman. The conversation appeared to be affable so she took no more notice of it. Her head dipped
so that Beamish could only see the top of her straw bonnet.

“Something wrong
?” he asked, noting her downcast gaze and nervously twining fingers.

“I fear
Emmaline and I have seriously angered Lucius,” she said. Her voice trembled. “I have no idea how we can possibly redeem the situation.”

“Do you wish to talk it out?”

“Not at present, William, and please, hush! I do not wish you to be embroiled in a scheme that has gone so sadly awry when we only meant to be helpful.”

“Whatever has happened
, I’m sure all will soon be well,” William assured her. “You know Lucius, he’s never out of frame for long.”

At that moment Lucius
returned from his conversation with Mr. Thornhill bringing with him Lord and Lady Smythe, whom Juliana knew only by sight.

“
Lord Smythe, may I introduce my sister and ward, Lady Juliana Clifton, and my good friend Mr. William Beamish.”

Lady
Smythe, her sprigged muslin gown topped with a smart purple velvet spencer, smiled at them. With the introductions made, Lucius drew both his sister and Beamish into a conversation concerning new members of the prestigious Jockey Club.

Beamish was immediately engaged but the conversation both bored and confused Juliana as she knew none of the names
that Lucius threw out so easily.

“I do not pretend to understand half of my Lord’s business,”
Lady Smythe said,
sotto voce,
as she took Beamish’s empty chair beside Juliana. “But it does please him so for me to be beside him. Do you often accompany your brother, Lady Juliana?”

“Rarely,” replied Juliana
with genuine relief in her voice. “And this is my first visit to Epsom.”

“And would like it to be your last?”
An understanding glint lit Lady Smythe’s eyes and a smile lurked on her lips.

“
Oh, dear Ma’am, I wish it will be so!”

“Believe me, I do understand.” Lady
Smythe patted her hand. “Sporting events were never my millieux, I much prefer Town haunts as I suspect do you. I understand from your brother that there was a misunderstanding with your chaperone, so perhaps I may be of assistance in that direction?”

“I would
so appreciate that,” Juliana said. “Lucius may at times fly in the face of convention himself, but will not tolerate social impropriety from me.”

Lady Smythe patted her hand again as if she were a favoured niece.
They conversed quietly about fashions, books purchased from the Temple of the Muses in Finsbury Square and visits to Vauxhall Gardens, but the noise from the race crowd drew them from their seats to join the gentlemen in the stands.

On the far side of the course, hidden
behind a screen of trees, the horses were brought to the start line. Cries of consternation roiling through the crowds indicated one false start after another, but finally the horses charged around the track, their thundering hooves raising clouds of dust from the hard, dry ground.

Lucius raised his glasses, but his rage at Emmaline had not abated
. He could barely concentrate on determining the order of the runners as they swept around Tattenham Corner before disappearing behind the trees.

The horses galloped on through the heavy brown screen of dust that hung in the air. The steady drum of their hooves was drowned out as the roar from the crowds reached fever pitch. The jockeys urged their mounts on, ignoring the noise and the dust
and the high, bright sun that beat down on them and their sweat streaked mounts.

“It’s Prince Paul and Raby in front,” shouted Beamish.

“No, Sam is coming up close behind them.” Lucius trained his glasses on the tight bunch of horses. “See where Chifney has him placed?”

Lady Smythe rolled her eyes at their excitement, making Juliana smile. Had they tried to talk
, their words would have been lost in a wall of noise.

“Sam’s taking the lead,” bellowed Beamish, his voice raw with excitement.

They watched the plain chestnut horse draw alongside the front runners, push his nose forward, edge in front of them, keep up his speed in the blistering heat.

“By George, he’s ahead.
” Lord Smythe shouted. “He’s winning! Sam’s got it by three quarters of a length!”

“Hope you put money on Sam, Beamish,”
Lucius said, a smile of satisfaction crossing his face.

“Thank goodness that is over,” said Lady Smythe when she could make herself heard. “Come,
Lady Juliana, at least let us go and see this Sam being unsaddled.”

The men in their party clapped and cheered, slapped each other on the back and were in general high spirits. Juliana realized the
y had won money on Sam, and congratulated them all. The race over, the remainder of the afternoon dragged until Lucius pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.

“Ah, right on time. Here is Noble
to take us home,” he said. “I’m sure you are more than ready, are you not, Juliana?”

Juliana nodded demurely. “Will Mr. Beamish return to London with us?” she asked hopefully.

“I think not,” Beamish answered with some regret, “for I am put up with friends at Claygate and return to London on the weekend. If I may, I’ll visit you then.”

“If my brother approves,” Juliana replied demurely.

Lucius looked at her suspiciously.

“When do you require my approval for a visit from Beamish?” he demanded. “Come, Juliana.”

Juliana made her goodbyes and Lucius escorted her to the barouche. He gave her a moment to settle herself and then took the seat beside her, ordering the coachman to proceed as he did so. Nothing further was said as the horses put their weight into their collars and started forward.

With
Epsom soon behind them, Juliana ventured a glance at Lucius. The lean lines of his face were taut. She knew from the firm set of his jaw and tight knit brows that his often simmering temper was close to exploding.

She hesitated for a moment, wishing to say something that might absolve her friend’s actions but, before
she could collect her thoughts, Lucius leaned forward and tapped the coachman on the shoulder.

“Spring ‘em,” he ordered.

Noble swung around and looked down at his employer. “My Lord, is this wise?”

“Wise or not, I wish to arrive home tonight and not the middle of next week.”
The harshness in Lucius’ voice only served to emphasize the anger plain in his white face

Juliana started, her face as white as her
sibling’s for she had now seen what Lucius must have seen. A curricle on the road ahead of them approached at a spanking trot. Her fingers plucked nervously at her brother’s sleeve.

“Lucius, you cannot! This is madness,” she cried.

“I said spring ‘em,” repeated Lucius.

Emma
line could not believe Lucius’ command. Had he gone mad? From her seat on the box she mentally measured the distance between her team and the curricle and swiftly assessed the likely gap between the two vehicles.

Her decision made
, she shouted back at him.

“You may cripple your cattle if you wish, my Lord. While they are in my charge, I will not.”

The two vehicles closed swiftly upon each other. Emmaline, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a determined line, held her leaders steady as each conveyance passed the other with just inches to spare between them.

The lady in the curricle waved at them as they passed by, the gentleman busy with his horses,
merely nodded his head. When she was sure there was no danger, Emmaline cracked her whip over the leaders’ heads. The barouche surged forward in a steady thrum of drumming hooves and rumbling wheels.

Juliana, gasping with relief, collapsed back against the
squabs. With one quivering hand she gripped the side of the barouche, with the other she held her forehead, her eyes closed.

“Was that too
much of a pinch even for you?” Lucius asked grimly.

“That was no pinch, that was insanity,” Juliana hissed, still holding her hand over her eyes.

Emmaline kept the team at a steady gallop until, taking notice of their breathing, she drew on the lines and brought them back to a slow hand canter. Satisfied with their progress, she checked them again to a steady, ground eating trot.

The sun slid down a sky shot with streaks of azure and pink and spread its glow, like a lady’s skirt, across the countryside through which they travelled. Shadows thrown by trees and hedgerows deepened like bruises across their pathway.

As they entered London, s
lim fingers of purple night stole through the still burnished arc of the horizon and Emmaline breathed a sigh of relief when they at last came to a halt.

Lucius quickly
vacated the barouche and reached for Juliana’s hand.

“You may wish to
go straight to your room, Juliana,” he said pointedly.

Without a word Juliana did as her brother bid her while he walked to the head of his team. His experienced eye
s noted that none of them were distressed. Sahara nudged his arm and lipped at his coat sleeve. He patted the animal’s neck and inspected each horse’s legs for any sign of strain. Satisfied, he nodded to Noble.

“Rack ‘em up, Noble,” he said quietly.

Noble beckoned to the waiting grooms, who stepped forward and swiftly unhitched the team. Instead of taking the horses to their stalls the grooms led them towards the ménage.

“
Noble, where are they going?” Lucius demanded.

“An idea
of Miss Devereaux’s,” Noble responded. “Letting them loose for a short time appears to help them recover from their work more quickly.”

“
Does it indeed?” Lucius said grimly. “This I must see for myself.”

Emma
line, anxious to leave as soon as she could, gathered the skirts of the driving coat and got to her feet.

“Stay where you are if you please, John Coachman,” Lucius ordered
abruptly. “I will deal with you momentarily.”