Lord Will & Her Grace (26 page)

He extended his hand in a mute appeal for the
few hairpins she'd found then attended to her hair. Sophie leaned
back, closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his hands working her
tresses.

"You've not formally agreed to be my wife,
you know." His lovely deep voice made her neck tingle.

"Even though you gave me your unspoken
consent, I find I should like to hear the words if only so we will
have a proper version to tell our children." There was amusement in
his voice.

"
Mon chéri
—" she began. "Ah, my love,
once again, please. I have long waited to hear those words." He
nibbled her ear.

"
Mon chéri
, you already know my
answer. But if it's formality you seek, then you shall have it."
Sophie turned into his embrace. "You captured my heart many months
ago, when I saw you—"

"Completely starkers? Yes, you did appear
slightly shaken by the encounter," he said, grinning.

"William, that was not what I was about to
say. I do believe I fell in love with you when you freed me
from"—she smiled—"that torturous corset."

He threw back his head in laughter. "Our
children will take enormous delight in the story."

"That won't do at all. We shall tell them you
asked for permission from my guardian then asked for my hand while
down on one knee and I accepted—demurely and with proper
decorum."

"I think they will prefer hearing about your
corset." He held out his hand to help her negotiate the steep ledge
to the pathway.

Uncertainty filled her when she contemplated
their future. "William, are you certain our marriage will bring you
long-lasting happiness? I fear—"

"Yes?"

"I fear you will not be happy hearing the
whispers that will surround us the rest of our lives—that you were
a notorious fortune hunter who married me solely for my money."

"I like the idea of being a kept man,
actually."

"You will not."

He grinned. "Well, if your inheritance is the
only thing standing in the way of our complete happiness, I must
reassure you." He scratched his jaw. "You see, my family lost much
of our fortune and it's always been my dream to restore our name. I
seemed so close to realizing it when I met you. Good fortune had
smiled on me during a card game where the stakes had been high. I
won a small fortune that night—from your Lord Coddington in
fact."

Sophie stopped for a moment to catch her
breath on the steep ascent.
Impossible
. "So we are now
adding
gaming
to your list of fine qualities?"

"Only in the most dire of circumstances."
Sophie turned to continue the climb up the narrow path.

"The fortune," he continued, "was enough to
go forward with a set of methodically laid out plans for a wholly
new venture—in commerce. My first visit to Yorkshire was to see if
Tolworth, a man known for his shrewd business propositions, would
invest in a new bank with progressive ideas in lending. Little did
I know he had an entirely different shrewd proposition. But, enough
said. I am happy to report that in gratitude for arranging his
daughter's marriage, Tolworth agreed to a sizeable outlay."

Sophie stumbled slightly and William helped
her regain her balance.

"And before beginning my journey to see you,
I visited a cousin I had not seen in many years, per Alex who knows
her quite well. You would like the newly married Duchess of
Cavendish. The duke agreed to provide capital as well."

Sophie looked over her shoulder at him and
raised a hand to cover her lips. "You are laughing at me,
madam?"

"So you are now a merchant, sir—as well as a
gamester, a rake and a fortune hunter? My father would be most
gratified with my choice."

"Now I'll hear no more of that. Everyone
knows that a plain reformed rake cannot hold a candle to an
unapologetic common merchant and gambler, with fortune hunting and
rakehellish tendencies. At least I am not a drunken fool." His lips
curled in dry amusement.

"No, indeed you are not. You at least left
one
asset for other rogues to enjoy
."

Slightly out of breath, they paused at the
top of the cliff and surveyed the wild beauty before them. Will
exhibited his most endearing, wolfish smile. "Speaking of assets, a
lesson in the art of hiding yours would not be amiss for I find I
don't care to share my good fortune with others any longer." He
eyed her impressive bosom.

"I'm insulted. I'm already adept at this
art—even you have no idea how much wealth I'll possess now that
I've secured a proper aristocrat despite your penchant to join the
merchant class. In addition to the duchy and my uncle's fortune,
which I shall now inherit upon our marriage, my aunt has decided to
leave me her similar riches in future."

Stunned, he swayed in the breeze lifting the
fog.

"Well, I see I've finally accomplished what
no other female has,
chéri
. You're speechless." She smiled
brilliantly. "Perhaps you'd prefer I tell Aunt Rutledge we've
decided there is no need for two fortunes?"

"Good God, no, madam. I see we must continue
your education after all. Take it from one well familiar with
poverty; one can never have too much money. Those who suppose
wealth cannot buy happiness may live in their cold little huts. We
shall live in bliss—richer than Croesus."

"I suppose it will take my whole life to
teach you the pleasures of charity and good works."

He rubbed the tip of her nose with one
finger. "No, no—you misunderstand. We shall have the double
pleasure
of improving other lives as well as our own. And
we'll also take joy in the knowledge we will have earned a sizeable
portion of it in future—by helping others get a solid start in
their own ventures."

"And what will be the name of this fine
institution?"

"Why, my family's name—
Barclay's Bank
,
of course," he said.

"Of course."

Will pulled her under the shade of a large
horse chestnut tree and swept her into his arms, pinning her hands
to his chest. "I almost forgot. I've brought you two presents, my
love."

The emerging sun and rustling tree branches
fanned a pattern of shaded leaves upon his elegant features. Her
heart swelled with giddy pleasure. "Two?"

"You shall find them in my pockets."

Sophie reached into the warm pocket of his
dark waistcoat. She withdrew the beautiful sapphire and diamond
ring from long ago.

"If this has too many poor memories attached
to it, I shall choose another for you." He kissed her forehead.

"You shan't be able to pry it off my
finger."

"You've forgotten there is one more item of
importance," he murmured into her ear.

She noticed a slight glimmer in his eye. He
glanced down at her fingers as she searched the inner pocket of his
coat lining and touched the edges of paper.

A rush of wind rustled the leaves all around
them as she read the document which would allow them to marry
without delay of the banns.

"You probably have guessed there is one more
fault in my character." He rained a slow shower of kisses along the
sensitive angles of her neck. "I've never been a patient man."

"Patience is highly overrated, Lord
Will."

"A return to formality, Your Grace?" A
certain wickedness lurked in the curl of his smile.

"I am certain, my love, patience and
formality will never be known as the chief assets or —she leisurely
tugged loose his neckcloth—"Lord Will and Her Grace."

by

Sophia Nash

Winner “Best Debut Romance” – Romance Readers
Anonymous

Winner “Award of Excellence”

Lost in thought, widow Jane Lovering almost
failed to notice she had arrived at the field. It was eerie in the
mist with the dark tree trunks and branches covered with a hint of
new leaves.

“Mrs. Lovering, it is almost time for
breakfast. I assumed you had forgotten our engagement.” The earl
was attempting to bridle his stallion, who kept pawing the ground.
Lord Graystock was wearing the same deplorable outfit in which she
had first seen him. Almost against her will, she verified that one
could positively see the man’s smalls through the tear on the hip
of his breeches. If anything, it had grown larger!

“Fear not. I would not dream of depriving you
my help in taming your beast, sir.” Jane averted her eyes, jumped
down from her sidesaddle, and secured the reins to a tree. She had
a difficult time maintaining a composed expression, as his
arrogance seemed misplaced given that he had new mud stains on his
shoulder and cheek. “And how lovely that you dressed on my
account!” she continued.

She detached the riding habit skirt,
revealing form fitting, dove colored riding breeches. She had had
her seamstress make the skirt of the habit and breeches to her
specifications years ago, much to the shock of her father.

“As did you, I see Madam,” the earl said with
one eyebrow raised.

“If I am to get on and more importantly stay
on your animal, it will have to be astride. I would only ask you
not discuss my attire with anyone.”

Lord Graystock rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Heaven forbid, Mrs. Lovering. I daresay your reputation could not
bear another mark.”

“And yours, sir? Is it superior to mine?”

“I daresay it could withstand word of my
riding astride wearing breeches.” His eyes roamed slowly down over
the offending article of clothing. “Not that I am complaining, you
understand.”

Jane refused to allow him to make her blush.
“Yes, well, at least my smalls are covered.”

“More’s the pity,” he said, from much nearer
than Jane recalled him being.

She disregarded the comment and walked toward
the animal in the middle of the field. “Now, sir,” she said, taking
possession of the bridle from the earl along the way, “Let us see
what is to be done about this recalcitrant stallion of yours. And
by that—lest you find yourself confused—-I do mean your horse.” She
was rewarded by his laugh, which caused a sensation in her midriff
that she would just as soon not examine.

When she was within reach of the warm, moist
breath of the stallion, he snorted, wheeled around, and galloped
away.

Lord Graystock chuckled. “You must have
better methods in your repertoire. I daresay your entire arsenal
won’t do the trick.”

“We shall see,” Jane retorted as she watched
the stallion. She felt little of the self-confidence she tried to
show. The stallion exhibited a sort of wildness in the eye she had
rarely seen before.

“Care to wager on it?” he asked.

“Wager on what?”

“On your ability to ride the beast, of
course. Or perhaps—” his eyebrows quirked insolently, “—we should
better your odds by making it on your ability to capture him?”

“I have never wagered in my life.”

“Are you unsure, Mrs. Lovering, of your
abilities?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “What
would I win?”

He smiled. “More importantly, what would you
lose?”

They paused for a moment, each thinking as
quickly as possible. The earl closed the gap between them.

“A kiss. If you lose, that is,” he said.

“No,” she said.

“A kiss if you win, then, if you prefer.”

“No,” she said again.

“Then we are back to if you lose.”

She knew he expected her to refuse again,
stomp off and refer to her reputation and the like. What could she
counter it with to wipe the smug expression off his face and end
this entire wagering business?

“Alright,” she said, slowly, “But, if I stay
on the brute, you’ll marry me.” Really, she just wanted to see him
unsettled, just a little. Titled gentlemen were so sure of
themselves, this one in the extreme. He antagonized her beyond
measure. And, she knew she could unseat herself if she did manage
to ride the beast. She could tell by the strained expression on his
face that she had outmaneuvered him.

“Mrs. Lovering, ah, your wager is so very
tempting, but…” She smiled as she realized he was not going to
accept the challenge. “But, not very equal in terms. What say you
to upping my end to a bit more than a kiss?”

She felt flustered and annoyed. “I think
not,” she responded as she jutted out her chin.

He looked delighted. “Ah, well then let’s
shake on the original wager,” he concluded as he reached for her
hand. “And by the by, he seems to favor trees. Best be
careful.”

She was too embarrassed to ask for
clarification of the original wager or the comment regarding the
trees. The truth was the infuriating man had her doubting her own
abilities. Jane had ridden many young, difficult horses but never a
difficult stallion in his prime. And she was distracted by
Graystock, who sat on a log under the shade of a young sapling,
watching her with a hooded expression in his gray eyes.