Ruined by Moonlight (8 page)

What hadn’t been nearly as satisfactory was the evening before, or, for that matter, this morning. The former had involved his wife doing her best to instruct him in a lesson in severe sexual frustration and the latter had yielded almost nothing in the form of information on the winsome but mysteriously missing Lady Elena.

Leaning against the rail in moody contemplation Ben had come to the conclusion that the elusive daughter of the Earl of Whitbridge had quite simply vanished in a wisp of smoke. At this point she’d been gone for almost forty-eight hours without a word.

“Nice run, my lord. I told you he’s in fine mettle. Thor has the haunches of a champion.”

Ben glanced over at his trainer, roused from his musings. No one had agreed when he’d decided to let someone as young as Adam Altamont take over his stable, but the decision had been duly weighed and considered, and, eventually, he’d decided that instinct was sometimes better
than logic. As his horses were winning more than ever, he still felt it a good one. “He’s moving well,” he agreed, feeling guilty for his distraction, since usually his horses were his passion. “Loose on the inside, though, I thought.”

“He moves better when he’s pressed. Without another horse he’s never going to give us all he has.”

That was true. His most promising young racer liked competition. Ben watched as the jockey trotted his mount to the gate and the lads ran out to lead away the horse. Interesting…it brought to mind the years of the war, and how when he was challenged and lives hung in the balance it had never been a question whether to act if it was a decision of how much to risk and in what way. He’d have laid down his life for king and country and had taken that road more than once, but this current situation was at once more simple and yet more complex.

He leaned his arms on the railing of the paddock. “I’ve an obscure question. If you were intent on eloping with a young lady who has a powerful father, tell me, how would you go about it?”

Altamont blinked for a moment, his brawny forearms also against the fence, his thick dark hair ruffled by the morning wind. There was a hint of alarm in his clear blue eyes. “My lord, please let me assume this is strictly a hypothetical question. The occasional enthusiastic titled lady is trial enough without some accusation coming my way. I vow I’ve been doing nothing more than training your horses.”

It was impossible not to laugh. Ben hardly walked around judging the appearance of other men, but it was true that his trainer was not only brilliant with his high-strung charges but good-looking and did seem to attract
considerable female attention at the race meets. “No, no accusation, though I do advise you to keep to the safer venues that do not include the daughters of earls.”

They weren’t that disparate in age, actually, maybe a three-year difference, which was why everyone had recommended a seasoned trainer for the expensive stable. But Ben had liked Adam immediately and, more importantly, his horses had responded in the same way. He’d seen him handle them, realized at once the affinity between man and animal, and had hired him on the spot despite his lack of experience. This would be the first racing season since his father’s old trainer had retired and Ben thought the horses looked fitter than ever.

“I
do
know better,” Adam murmured, his smile slight. “Always. I am not so foolish as to risk my career for a casual tumble. One word against my name and suddenly I do not get to train horses like yours. It isn’t worth it.”

Or
no woman had made it worth it yet,
Ben mused, thinking it over. It was all about perspective. “But let’s say in theory you wished to spirit away a young lady who was the daughter of a powerful man. How would you go about it?”

“Off to Scotland, I suppose.” Adam frowned, his shirt open at the neck, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “That’s the fastest way to marry with the least effort, though it isn’t a particularly short journey. I’ve never fancied that idea myself. It seems to me if a lady is worth marrying, it is worth doing it properly.”

A sensible attitude. Admittedly Ben had also chosen a safe, proper course, selecting Alicia for her bloodlines, her beauty, and her serene disposition. He’d dutifully courted her by calling and bringing the occasional bouquet that almost always his secretary obtained for him,
and, in retrospect, maybe he hadn’t quite completed the task in the way he thought he had. When he’d proposed to her, he and her father had already hammered out the marriage agreement beforehand and solicitors had been consulted, and, if looked at that way, to his chagrin, it did not seem very romantic.

However, his current standoff with his wife was not part of what might have happened to Lady Elena but an entirely different problem.

“Quite,” he agreed, the scent of fresh earth, dug up by the hooves of the racers, pungent. “But not always an option. What if her father didn’t approve of you?”

“If she was a true lady I doubt he would,” Adam said frankly. “I might be the son of a baron and decently educated, but I have no prospects except a working man’s income, and I’m not a part of the beau monde by any means. That’s fine. I prefer my horses anyway, but approaching an earl for his daughter’s hand…no. Is this about Whitbridge’s missing daughter?”

It had been too much to expect all along—Ben had known it from the beginning—for this to be kept entirely quiet, but he had to admit he hadn’t anticipated the news of Lady Elena’s disappearance to spread so quickly. Granted, two days had passed and Lord Whitbridge had questioned the staff at the theater the night Elena had gone missing, but for someone like Altamont to know of it already was a bit startling.

“What exactly have you heard?” he asked casually, watching as Gibbons, his first choice of jockey, slid off Thor and said something to the lad who took the reins.

Adam wasn’t fooled, but, then again, his quick mind and intuitive reactions were why Ben had taken a chance on such an untried trainer. “I might be a fifth son, but my
older brother does move in your circles. He mentioned it to me. Word has it she abruptly disappeared and her family is looking for her. No one seems to know where she’s gone. Speculation is growing.”

Ben had been doing some speculating of his own. “I understand Lord Andrews is also missing.”

Adam cocked a brow, watching as the roan trotted past them, one of the lads taking him to cool down. “The viscount owns some of the finest horses in England.”

“Some,” Ben agreed mildly.

“Not as fine as yours, my lord.”

“You might be a dash prejudiced.” Still, he found the quick equivocation amusing. “What he does own is the reputation of bedding Britain’s finest ladies. Who can I talk to?”

Altamont leaned back, holding on to the paddock railing. “I have to say, knowing his lordship’s reputation, a connection would surprise me. She is not his usual choice in a female in any way. He avoids the marriageable ones.”

“That’s interesting.” Ben spoke evenly. “But I would like to confirm that there is no connection between him and Lady Elena. What about his stable master? The lads usually talk to the maids and footmen, and it would be a much more subtle way of inquiry.”

“Prescott?” Adam answered readily enough, his gaze steady. “Would you rather I speak to him? He’s Welsh and a bit prickly. We know each other, and though he feels I’m too young to be in charge of such fine horses we get along well enough. I’m going to guess you’d get little to nothing from him. We usually exercise on the same track at dawn. I could talk to him for you.”

That was a generous offer, and as Ben still hadn’t
explained—nor was he going to—his interest in the matter, probably prudent. It took him a moment but he nodded. “Ask Prescott if he’s heard intimations that Andrews is involved seriously with anyone. And leave Lady Elena’s name out of it, though it doesn’t appear to be a deep, dark secret.”

“It’s quite puzzling as to what it is,” Adam declared succinctly. “With the viscount’s propensity for a very different type of lady, it seems unlikely they are together.”

“Does it?” Ben wasn’t quite as sure.

“I would think so.”

This was all becoming rather interesting. Ben watched Thor being led away toward the stables, a powerful animal, so proud and confident, but being taken in a certain direction willingly because of the promise of a reward.

“I suppose it is possible their mutual absence is not connected.” The concession was insincere. He didn’t believe that for a moment.

His instincts told him otherwise.

Between the whiskey, the candlelight, the beautiful girl…he could almost succumb to temptation.

Almost.

Once he’d begun to understand the dynamic of the predicament they were in, Ran declined the honor of this planned seduction.

Still, she was damned tempting. It hadn’t helped that he’d listened to her bathe earlier, the slight splash of the water erotic, and had watched—what else was there to do in this prison?—as she performed the very intimate task of combing out her long, damp hair, unsnarling the golden strands. The act was so feminine and arousing it had sent him to his feet to pace across the room, and
hopefully she didn’t realize the source of his sudden restlessness.

Elena—to the devil with their titles; he was done with propriety and her first name would do—sat across from him in a light blue robe now, her shining hair loose, and while she was as manipulated as he was, the scene had certainly been set.

No
.

He refused to play this game. He knew exactly what their diabolical host wanted from him.

The bastard.

“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight,” Ran said more tersely than he intended. “I think perhaps it would be better.”

Waking with her in his arms again was not a good option, but stating that involved admitting that it had happened in the first place. If she didn’t really remember it,
he
did.

She frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t think that sounds very comfortable, my lord.”

It didn’t sound comfortable to him either, but better than the alternative, which might involve a weakened state of resolve. It wasn’t that he actually doubted his willpower, but more that he had come to the conclusion this wasn’t about the two of them but something else entirely.

Perhaps he should just be blunt.

“All of this,” he said with as little intonation as possible, “is designed so we are coerced into not only sharing our meals, the washbasin, and the close quarters, but also that bed. Whether it is aimed at you or me, Colbert, or for an unfathomable reason someone else, the intention is hardly subtle.”

“I realize that.” She gazed across the room, her profile
clean and lovely. The long shimmering strands of her hair brushed her waist as she turned her head finally and met his eyes. “I might be not nearly as sophisticated as you are, but I understand clearly the purpose of this abduction.”

Suddenly Ran was struck with the impulse to laugh, not out of amusement but because he admired the lift of her chin and the defiance in her eyes. “I see. So we both know the intent but not the motivation.” Carelessly he picked up the decanter of whiskey and refilled his glass. “We always come back to that. Any thoughts? What about your father? I assume he has enemies, as all powerful men do.”

“That has occurred to me.” Elena sat composed, her voice prim but holding a thoughtful note. “I’m afraid I am not well-versed enough in his business affairs to suggest a specific culprit. I suppose it is plausible that someone might wish to get back at him through me.”

“He’s had more time on this earth to antagonize others than we have,” Ran agreed sardonically, but further elaboration would involve his own political opposition to the conservative and loyalist views of Lord Whitbridge, and, at this point in time, that was hardly useful.

“He’s certainly antagonized me once or twice,” his lordship’s daughter murmured with a hint of the humor he was starting to appreciate, “but never enough I felt the urge to retaliate. You would know better than I. Is his position in the House of Lords worth this?”

She was quick minded, he would give her that. The implications were interesting to him also. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “because while I don’t agree entirely with his opinions, I suppose I am not rabid enough to ever consider ruining someone else’s life to prove my
point. Besides, while your father is influential, a scandal involving his daughter would not change the course of the way he votes for Britain’s future policies or how he debates the new agricultural laws. He’d be injured personally, but this won’t influence the course of history.”

Propping her chin on her palm she murmured, “I agree. It seems excessive.”

Women were not usually offered the option to agree or not, as it was hardly important if they did. Ran took a sip of his favorite whiskey and registered how intriguing he found the lovely Lady Elena’s sense of independent self-worth. “I suspect you were a mischievous child. Weren’t you?”

She laughed in a low melodic sound. “I don’t know. Perhaps. I’ve always liked horses more than embroidery. Does that count?”

“Of course.” He could picture her in a riding habit, graceful in a sidesaddle, her cheeks tinged pink from an early-morning breeze, golden hair under a plumed hat, slim gloved hands on the reins…She’d be skillful and swift and the most beautiful one there.…

Damn
.

“Do you hunt?” He asked it too abruptly.

“No.”

She didn’t, he discovered, because she deplored the actual sport, but she liked a canter through the countryside much more than a London ball, and the
ton
’s most-favored beauty smiled at the recollection of summer pastures and bucolic fields. She stated in her concise way, “Someone of your level of sophistication might not understand this, but I am not all that interested in the whirl of society.”

He understood it quite well actually, and though he spent
far too much time in London because his obligations required it, she might be surprised to learn he also preferred quiet mornings and green pastures and the sound of singing birds. However, defending himself was never something he bothered to do, so he just regarded her with amused consideration. “How unconventional, Lady Elena.”