Love's Justice (Entangled Scandalous) (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“The sun is out!” Lord Percy came bursting into the drawing room where the women sat in quiet conversation.

“Henry, please.” Lady Edith’s reprimand did little to curb her husband’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, but it’s been so gloomy out for so long, I hoped you ladies might like to take a stroll outside in the sun. It’s warmed up considerably. I’ve had them set up for archery on the front lawn. And Miss Westwood has yet to see Syon’s beautiful grounds properly. What do you say? Before the others arrive. I promised Father we’d go hunting this afternoon, so this may be your only chance.”

Edith shook her head good-naturedly. “Well, what do you ladies think? Are you interested?”

Emily answered enthusiastically, but Victoria was intent on those who had followed Lord Percy into the room. Emily’s husband Edward stood behind Lord Percy. Surprisingly, Lord Montgomery had followed as well. Victoria had to look down, suddenly embarrassed. While their short exchange earlier had gone well, she couldn’t help but think of the liberties he had taken at the party, or rather the liberties she had allowed him. What did he think of her?

“Miss Westwood?” Lord Percy’s question forced her to look up.

“Yes, of course. I’d love to join you.”

Lord Montgomery barely spared her a glance. He was, as always, inscrutable. She was determined to at least win back his respect. She would be cool and aloof. Certainly, he would stay distant and not attempt to do anything inappropriate with so many others around.

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” the duchess said. “I am much too old for such things, but the younger women will no doubt find some exercise very satisfying.”

“Well, come then,” Lord Percy encouraged.

Lady Edith smiled. “You expect me to play archery in my condition?”

Lady Edith’s pregnancy was not yet readily apparent. No doubt she was reluctant to go into confinement before the end of the holiday parties.

“Come, my dear,” Lord Percy insisted. “Without you, I don’t think the other ladies will come.”

Lady Edith laughed again, clearly accustomed to her husband’s entreaties. “We’ll retrieve our wraps and meet you outside.”

Victoria was anxious to see more of the grounds Lord Montgomery had described. Archery, on the other hand, was a sport she had never attempted. But that was soon forgotten as she walked out into a brilliant sun that momentarily blinded her. As everything came into focus, she realized even Lord Montgomery’s thorough description had not prepared her for the grounds.

She had never seen a house so beautifully set. The manicured lawns, sparkling with dew, stretched out forever. Here and there, trees had been planted in a natural array. The Thames sparkled in the bright sun well below the house. She tipped her head back momentarily and enjoyed the sun’s play on her face.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Her heart skipped a beat. He was behind her and very close. While she had been enjoying the warmth of the sun, the others had paired off and she was far behind them, with the only unmatched member of the party, Lord Montgomery.

“It is.” She had to be calm. “And the sun is delightfully warm today. I had about given up hope of ever seeing it again.”

“The fog this year has been particularly troublesome. I think it is setting new records.” He took her arm and drew her forward to follow the others. “For someone unaccustomed, it must be unbearable.”

She panicked. Her brain was failing her. Certainly she should be able to carry on a polite conversation. But the feel of him, so close… The warmth of his hand on her arm… All of it brought back the sensations she had felt when he had kissed her.

She walked in abject silence, embarrassed by her inability to converse.

“Have you seen the arboretum yet?”

She finally found her voice. “No, not yet. I do hope to see it before I leave.”

“It’s a marvel. You should make a point of seeing it. It was built by the third duke in eighteen twenty-six and twenty-seven. It is a great favorite of mine.”

She couldn’t answer, once more at a loss for words.

“There you two are,” Lord Percy said. “Do come along. We’ll watch the ladies try their hand at it first.”

A large hay-filled target with colorful concentric rings had been set up. Bows and quivers of arrows sat at the ready.

“Edith, come. You must go first,” Lord Percy encouraged, handing his wife a bow and standing ready with several arrows.

Lady Edith objected, “I should be fronted several points, you realize, as my condition has no doubt put me off balance.”

“Nonsense. You are such an expert I believe you should offer the others some bonus points.”

Lady Edith smiled and shook her head at her husband’s backhanded compliment. She was about fifty feet from the target. For Victoria, it might have been a mile.

Lady Edith set the arrow, pulled back the bow, and with an expert eye let the arrow go flying. It just missed the absolute center of the target by an inch or two.

“Bravo. Now you, Lady Whitney?” Lord Percy held out the bow and Emily went to him. She seemed to know what she was doing.

Emily let fly an arrow and it landed with strength six inches out from Lady Edith’s.

“Miss Westwood?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never mastered the sport.”

“You do not have to have mastered it to enjoy it,” Lord Montgomery said.

“Please, I will only embarrass myself.”

“Lord Montgomery can show you how it’s done, can’t you, Monty?” Lord Percy was being a little too helpful.

“No, please.”

Lord Montgomery approached her and spoke so only she could hear. “Are you afraid you’ll fail? I suspect you’re not accustomed to failing.”

It was a challenge, but it also struck too close to the truth. She wasn’t used to failing. She had always played to her strengths, not her weaknesses. She feared appearing frail or uninformed.

But she was not about to let the challenge go. She took in a breath. “If you insist.”

She took the bow and an arrow from Lord Percy, who stood with Lady Edith. How hard could it be? As long as she didn’t make a complete fool of herself.

She tried to remember what she had seen. She slotted the arrow with some trouble and pulled back, surprised by the strength it took to move the bowstring back toward her face. Then something went quickly and completely wrong. She pinched her finger and released the arrow before she was ready. The arrow barely made it ten feet before burying itself in the ground. She stood there mortified. She would not admit her embarrassment was made worse by the presence of Lord Montgomery.

“You just need some instruction,” Lord Percy offered kindly. “Monty, help the poor girl. She needs but a little encouragement.”

Victoria shook her head. She could deal with being mortified, but being too near to Lord Montgomery could be disastrous.

Everyone seemed to ignore her head shake. Lord Montgomery approached. “Face the target once again,” he instructed.

He retrieved the misfired arrow and handed it to her. Then he moved behind her and placed his arms around her, guiding her hands with his. His breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She could feel the heat of his whole length. It was completely distracting. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she might faint and further embarrass herself.

Damn him.

Why did he always catch her off guard, when she was least prepared? Now she was in his arms again with no means of escape. She tried to concentrate, but she was too rattled to do anything but follow his lead.

He helped her pull back the bowstring, and there was a moment’s expectation, tantalizing and exhilarating. It stopped her heart. Then the arrow flew. It hit the target in the outer ring.

She let out a breath of relief. He had not moved. It seemed to her he waited a moment longer than necessary before he backed away.

“Bravo. Bravo. You see, you simply need some practice,” Lord Percy said. “I don’t think we should embarrass Miss Westwood any further by forcing her into a sport with which she is unfamiliar. I see carriages with other guests are approaching and the men will no doubt want to go hunting immediately. You will have to leave us to our own devices, my dear.” He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“As you wish, darling. As you wish,” Lady Edith replied.

Lord Percy, Lord Whitney, and Lord Montgomery headed toward the stables while the women walked slowly back to the house.

Victoria didn’t move immediately. Everything she had heard and felt only confused her more. Who was this man? And why did she react viscerally to his presence? If she wasn’t careful, it might be her undoing.

Chapter Fourteen

“I am surprised to see Lord Montgomery with us today,” the Duke of Northumberland said.

Ahead of them, beaters with dogs drove the unsuspecting pheasant, woodcock, and partridge into flight, only to be shot by the gentlemen who followed. Henry’s father paused to shoot, landing a plump partridge, which was quickly retrieved by one of the dogs.

“He so seldom comes to these affairs. Has something changed?”

Henry smiled. His father, at sixty-nine, rarely missed a thing. He was not, for example, unaware a late invitation had been sent out to a Miss Westwood.

“I think it is still too early to tell. I don’t know if he would acknowledge anything. Certainly not to himself.”

Henry lifted his gun and shot late, missing his quarry.

“He’s a good, decent man. Wealthy and renowned. He could have any woman he wanted. I’m surprised Edith hasn’t been able to arrange a good match.”

“It’s not for lack of trying, Father.” Henry laughed.

They both turned their attention to Lord Montgomery who was off to their right among a group of five other guests. Far to their left, another party was moving forward slowly.

“What is there about this woman that has all of them sniffing around her like dogs?” his father questioned rather indelicately.

“You’ll have to judge for yourself. I think you’ll find her intriguing. Intelligent, opinionated, a tad obstinate, and utterly gorgeous.”

“She’s a beauty no doubt. How did Stanford manage to ensnare her? He’s such a vile little man.”

Once more, a flock of pheasants took to the air and both men lifted their guns successfully.

“I gather her father entered into some kind of contract with him.” Henry stopped to reload, and his father stopped as well.

“Do you think it was wise to invite all three of them here at once?” his father asked somberly.

Henry laughed. “I think dueling went out decades ago. Poor manners might be the extent of any damage.”

“Well, if anything does happen, I will remember it was you, Henry, who persuaded your mother to invite the woman.”

“Think positively. It will provide a little entertainment for the rest of us.”

“But at what cost to them, I wonder?” His father once again grew somber.

…

Hugh was aware of Stanford. He had intentionally selected a group other than the one Stanford had chosen. He had taken a shot once or twice but his mind was not on hunting, at least not of birds.

Stanford thus far seemed unaware of his presence—or if he was aware of it, determined to give him no notice. It gave Hugh a chance to study the man. He had seen him a few times, mostly at the club. Stanford was always in the gaming room and usually drunk and losing. It seemed a house party, even at a duke’s home, did little to sober him up. He hadn’t hit a bird yet. Even now he sought out a flask inside his wrinkled tweed jacket.

The thought of this vile little man touching Miss Westwood turned Hugh’s stomach. Rarely had he had such a strong visceral reaction to one of his cases. He didn’t believe the rumors that swirled around the twosome. That she had had many lovers and he had used and abused her before she ended their engagement. It mattered little to the outcome of the case. But it deeply troubled him that the woman’s name had been sullied in such a way.

Stanford once again attempted a shot. This time he brought down a bird—as much from luck as skill. A dog retrieved it and brought it to one of the beaters, who approached Lord Stanford. As he showed the bird to Stanford, the excited dog jumped up after the bird.

“Damn it. Get that dog off me.” Stanford kicked the poor dog so hard the injured animal lay on the ground whimpering. It was totally uncalled for. A brutal act by a brutal man.

He would personally like to kick the man.

The beater apologized profusely and, when Stanford moved on, the dog’s handler went to console the poor animal.

The men were all drawing together from across the field as the hunt came to an end. Stanford’s mood hadn’t improved. He finally noticed Hugh.

“My lord, I didn’t realize you were here as well.”

He didn’t slur his words, but he had a nervous habit of rubbing the side of his head repeatedly if he was upset. It was most noticeable at the gaming tables, and it once again betrayed him.

“I want to know who invited that
whore
to this party. It’s bad enough a man has to sue to get his due but to have to socialize with the woman is beyond tolerable.”

Several of the men in his party tried to quiet him, but he continued in a loud voice as he approached Hugh. “She is a mongrel bitch with little or no breeding and ought to be put down before she causes anyone else the trouble she’s caused me.” Again, one of the men in his party tried to stop him but he shook the man off.

“I will not be silenced! A contract is a contract. If she thinks she is above the law, she will find out soon enough.”

Several of the men looked to Hugh.

“She is entitled to be heard in court, sir. I don’t think this conversation is helpful in any way.” Hugh’s anger was barely under control. Stanford, only a foot or so in front of him, seemed oblivious to this.

“Have you slept with her as well, my lord?”

Hugh’s punch, when it came, was unexpected and sent Stanford flying into the underbrush. No one in the group moved.

Hugh couldn’t move either, stunned by his own behavior.

It was the duke who finally spoke. “Gentlemen, as guests in my home, you will refrain from this kind of language and behavior. Is that clear?”

Both Hugh and Stanford nodded. Several men helped Stanford, who was still unsteady, to his feet. The pork-colored skin on the side of his face was already turning a bright red. It wouldn’t be surprising if, by morning, it would be black and blue—a colorful reminder of what had happened this afternoon.

With the duke’s warning still fresh, Stanford turned and stalked off toward the house.

Percy came up beside Hugh as the others slowly made their way toward the house. There was a glint in his eye and a barely suppressed smile.

“I would have done it if you hadn’t. The man is insufferable. Still, I have to say I was surprised by your attack.”

Percy waited for a response, and when none was forthcoming, he said, “I’ve never seen you so worked up about anything or anyone. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Let it go, Percy.”

“It seems I will have to. Father certainly was angry. I’m surprised he didn’t send Stanford packing. But then, I suppose he’d have to send you off as well.”

Hugh walked slowly toward the house. He was several hundred feet behind the others, having stayed a moment to collect his thoughts and calm his temper.

What the hell was happening to him?

He was in danger of losing the very reputation for evenhandedness he had so scrupulously built up over the last ten years. He had acted more like his father and that disturbed him deeply.

Stanford was a bully and a lout. But he knew that. Why then did his brutish comments elicit such a strong response from him?

The duke was right. His behavior was unacceptable and reprehensible. Instead of following the others, he headed toward a small copse of trees to the west of the house. The fog had still not returned. The air was actually less damp than earlier.

He had barely reached the stand of trees when a figure turned the corner of the house, obviously seeking the same destination. She hadn’t looked up yet. When she did, emotions came flooding back.

Emotions that had already led to more than one unforgivable lapse in judgment.