Taming the Duke (29 page)

“Are you certain you don’t want to ride with us, Alicia?” Olivia’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, my dear. I’m certain.” Alicia smiled, anxious to return to the manor and explain everything to Dalton before Inspector Leary and his men arrived.

Alicia stroked Bashshar’s powerful neck as she led him toward the open field. Climbing into the saddle, she felt almost giddy with relief that Bashshar had surmounted his fear. She urged the stallion into a canter.

Wind furrowed deep grooves in the tall grass as they raced across the fields. A covey of startled partridge took off in flight. The sudden flutter of wings would have terrified Bashshar when she first saw him. Now, even though he was still excited from Neville’s assault, Bashshar hadn’t even flinched when the birds ascended.

She released the pressure on the reins, giving the horse his freedom as he carried her across the green meadow, Rufus racing at her side.

Beside the window in his study, Dalton held her in his arms as she calmly recited the dramatic events of the past several hours. He didn’t trust his voice to speak. As her heart beat with his, one thought blazed through his mind:
She might have been killed, and he hadn’t been there to protect her
.

“Thank God you’re all right,” he said when she’d
finished. She pressed her cheek upon his chest. He closed his eyes, stroking her hair with his palm, breathing in the sweet scent that was hers. She seemed so small, so vulnerable. She made no struggle to leave, as though she knew he found comfort in just holding her. He wanted to keep her this way, in his embrace, safe and secure. Forever.

She moved her hand to his forearm, squeezing gently. “Don’t blame yourself, Dalton.”

He winced. For all she’d been through, her unselfish concern was for him. He pulled away slightly and met her warm cinnamon gaze. His heart melted when she looked at him like that. “I should have insisted you not ride, and I should have warned Robert and Olivia not to take the carriage near the gaming fields. From a distance, the shooter probably mistook them for us.”

Alicia shook her head. “It’s over, Dalton. What’s important is that Neville has been apprehended, and we’ll soon find out why he did it.”

“Thank God you had Rufus and Bashshar with you,” he said, pulling her close again.

Moments later, the sound of horses’ hooves outside the window drew them apart. Rufus barked as two riders approached. “It’s Inspector Leary and Ulger,” Dalton said. He squeezed her hand before he released her, and she answered him with a brave smile.

When the butler showed the two men into the room, Dalton took a seat beside Alicia on the settee. Inspector Leary took the wing chair by the
fireplace, and Ulger, hat in hand, stood solemnly before them.

“As ye know, I’ve been stable master same as me father for nigh on forty years, yer grace.” Ulger’s deep voice was low and rough. “God as me witness, me misses and me knew nothin’ ’bout Neville’s dirty business. But the shame is on me shoulders just the same. I want to see Neville punished fer what he did. And if you want me to leave Havencrest, I’ll understand, yer grace.”

Dalton stood and put his hand on Ulger’s shoulder. “That’s not necessary, Ulger. No father can be held accountable for everything his son does.”

Ulger shuffled his feet, tears brightening his eyes. “Thank ye. I—I’ll find some way to repay ye, yer grace.”

“Go home and see to your wife and Penn.” Dalton’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’ll do everything I can to see that Neville has a solicitor and a fair trial. Try not to worry.”

Ulger’s chin trembled as he muttered his thanks before leaving the room.

Inspector Leary leaned forward from his chair. “Neville confessed that he was hired by a Mr. Gibbs, who had approached him several months ago. I’m sure Gibbs is a false name, but Neville gave us a fair description. My men are already checking in the village. Hopefully, we’ll soon learn the motive.”

Dalton glanced up. “Then you have no idea why Neville shot at my horse?”

The inspector’s expression remained solemn.
“Your horse wasn’t the target, your grace.” He swallowed. “Neville confessed that this Gibbs fellow paid him to shoot at you, but only to frighten you. Your horse was shot accidentally, if Neville can be believed.”

Although Alicia said nothing, he was aware the color had left her cheeks. The last thing he wanted was to further worry her. “A man in my position makes enemies, Inspector.” Dalton tried to appear calm, but his throat was tight with emotion. “I’m very grateful that you and your men were on the job.”

Leary beamed with the compliment. “Thank you, your grace.”

Without waiting to ring for a servant, Dalton crossed the room and opened the door himself. “Very well, Inspector. I’ll wait to hear from you.” He hoped the impatience didn’t show in his voice, but he was anxious to return to his wife. “Have your men stop at the kitchen on your way out. Cook will see that you have your supper.”

After the inspector had left, Alicia rushed to Dalton’s waiting arms. “Who are your enemies? And why would someone hire Neville to frighten you?”

“I don’t know, my darling, but I’m planning to find out.”

Tuesday of the following week, Alicia was teaching Penn how to execute a turn with Bashshar when a jaunty two-wheeled carriage drove up beside the round pen and stopped.

“Father, I’ve been expecting you,” she cried,
self-consciously brushing at her dusty skirts. She could hardly contain her joy. “Where are Mother and the girls?”

Neal Spencer smiled down at her. “Darlin’ Daughter, you grow lovelier each time I see you,” he said, stepping down from the driver’s seat. He gave her a warm hug. “Your mother and sisters are presently refreshing themselves from our journey.” He glanced at Bashshar, his eyes bright with curiosity. “And how goes the beast’s training? And I’m not referring to your husband.”

She smiled when she heard him chuckle. “Bashshar is nearly cured of his fear of gunfire, Father. See for yourself what he can do.”

Spencer watched silently, his sharp eyes on Penn as the lad put Bashshar through his paces. When Alicia explained how Bashshar attacked Neville, preventing a near catastrophe, her father stared in surprise.

“Daughter, you’re a credit to your old father and to Marston Heath.” His quick hazel eyes studied the stallion’s configuration. “What you’ve accomplished in so short a time is amazing.”

“Bashshar is the one who deserves the credit, and I’m going to have a chance to prove it to the world.”

His gaze swung from Bashshar to her. “Prove it? How?”

“You must promise to keep what I tell you confidential.”

“Of course, Daughter. Of course.”

She glanced at Penn as he rode the stallion
around the ring. “I’m entering Bashshar in the Classic this year.”

Spencer’s eyes widened with surprise. “The Newmarket Classic?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Father.” She could hardly hold her excitement. “Bashshar is one of the fastest racers I’ve ever seen.” She recognized the growing interest on her father’s face. “Just this morning I timed him at the six-furlong mark. His best time is a minute and a half.”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised as he stroked his chin. “Hounds of Jericho! A minute and a half? That horse will be worth a king’s ransom if he wins the Classic.”

“Father, my reason has nothing to do with money.” She brought her gaze back to her father. “Tell me, Father. How are the renovations progressing at Marston Heath?”

“Coming along well, thanks to my devoted attention, I might add. They don’t make craftsmen as reliable as they used to. But they know I’m watching their every move, and I’ll be getting a day’s wage out of them, don’t worry, Daughter.”

She could hardly keep a straight face. “What would we do without you, Father?”

His grin split from ear to ear. “I’ll be returning home to carry on while your mother and the girls go shopping in London.” He rolled his eyes.

Thanks to Dalton and his generosity
, she thought to herself. But she said nothing as she drew her hand around her father’s arm and matched his steps toward the manor.

After dinner, Dalton took Robert and Neal Spencer for a tour of the horse stables, while in the music room, Alicia, her sisters and mother caught up on the latest London gossip from Olivia.

“You must go to Madame Minot’s shop on Bond Street,” Olivia said to Alicia’s mother. “I saw a mauve silk gown and matching bonnet, with silk roses that would be lovely for Kimbra.”

Alicia’s mother fluttered her fan. “I shall certainly do that, my dear.” She laughed. “I’m as excited as Kimbra about our shopping trip.”

“I’d rather stay here with the horses and Rufus,” Lyssa said, pouting.

“That’s because you’re eight years old,” her mother said, straightening the bow in Lyssa’s hair. “Wait a few years, my dear, then you’ll know what all the excitement is about.”

Olivia glanced at Alicia. “Why don’t you and Dalton go with your family to London? Now that Bashshar has improved, you should be able to get away. The change will do you good.” She sat up, inspired by the idea. “Robert and I will remain here and look after things until you return.”

“I can’t possibly get away until the end of next week,” Dalton said as he strode into the room. He sat on the arm of Alicia’s chair. “I’m meeting my steward for the sheepshearing festival tomorrow.”

Alicia smiled up at him. “Then I’ll remain here with you.” She loved these pleasant, quiet days alone with Dalton. If she had her way, they would remain here, forever.

Kimbra’s smile faded, and she turned to her older sister. “It would be such fun if you would come with us, Alicia.”

“Don’t let my duties spoil the fun,” Dalton added with enthusiasm. “Alicia, I think you should go. You and your family can stay at the London town house. If I can get away, I’ll join you in a few days.”

Alicia felt a stab of disappointment. Was he tiring of her already? She dropped her gaze to hide the hurt. “Why don’t I wait and go to London with you, Dalton?”

“Oh, please! I’d really like you to come,” Kimbra pleaded, tugging on Alicia’s hand.

Dalton gave Alicia a sympathetic look. “I’ll get away as soon as I can. I promise.”

Olivia clapped her hands. “Alicia, you’ll enjoy yourself immensely.”

Alicia glanced around the circle of expectant faces. With little recourse, she reluctantly agreed. “Very well.”

“Then it’s settled,” Alicia’s mother said firmly. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

For the next two days, a drizzle fell over London, which did nothing to ward off Alicia’s increasing blue mood. The weather did nothing to dampen Alicia’s sisters’ and mother’s spirits, however, as they merrily purchased bonnets, ribbons and fabrics, all of which filled the extra carriage creaking along behind them.

Assorted carriages wheeled past, their drivers and coachmen yelling at one another. Alicia pressed
her fingers to her throbbing temples. She felt dizzy and her stomach was queasy.

Then she realized why—she hadn’t eaten; in fact, her appetite was almost nonexistent since leaving Havencrest.

Suddenly she realized why—she missed Dalton. With a heart-hungry yearning, she felt as isolated as if she were cast adrift in the fog.

She admonished herself for her foolishness. After all, Dalton wasn’t moping about, cow-eyed for her. She was in London, and she should enjoy the opportunity.

By the time the ducal coach returned to Dalton’s fashionable town house in London’s Park Lane, Alicia had thought of an idea that would make her trip to London worthwhile. She remained in the coach while half a dozen footmen removed the parcels and bundles from the second carriage and carried the purchases into the house. Alicia’s mother and sisters were helped down the coach steps and stood at the curb, waiting for Alicia to join them.

Instead, she leaned out the coach window. “I’m going to pay a call on the dowager duchess,” she said.

Her mother politely hid any surprise from her face. “Very well, dear.” She didn’t look back as she hurried the two girls toward the butler waiting at the front door.

“Lord Templestone’s residence,” Alicia called to the driver, then she settled back against the plush velvet squabs and covered herself with the fur lap
robe. With a jolt, the coach jerked forward, swaying and clattering along the cobblestone lane.

She glanced out at the passing carriages glistening in the fog. How could the dowager refuse to attend her own son’s birthday celebration if Alicia asked her personally?

Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

But what if the dowager refused to see her?

Alicia folded her hands in her lap. If Dalton’s mother refused Alicia an audience, then she’d approach Lord Templestone. Either way, Dalton’s mother would deal with her, whether the dowager wanted to or not.

“Her ladyship will see you, your grace.” The butler ushered Alicia into a small drawing room. The dowager remained seated at a fireside chair, a small open book of poetry in her lap. The familiar cane leaned against the side table. She met Alicia’s gaze only after the servant announced her.

“My dear. How good of you to come. Please, sit down.” The older woman’s words were polite in front of the servant, but the frigid tone was as welcoming as January sleet.

Alicia’s mouth felt dry as she took a seat at the far edge of the sofa. Despite the fire in the grate, the room felt damp and chilly. She glanced around, wondering if Templestone was in residence and would be told of her visit.

The dowager’s sharp eyes appraised her as if staring through a quizzing glass. “I’m rather curious by this visit, Alicia. Now that you’re married
to my son, I would think you have everything you want.” She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Are you here to gloat?”

“Your grace, since I haven’t heard from you, I thought perhaps you didn’t receive my invitation. I’m here to ask you personally to Havencrest to celebrate Dalton’s birthday. We’re hoping you’ll stay the week.” She hesitated, hoping the defensiveness in the dowager’s tight expression might fade.

After several moments, the older woman spoke. “You’ve invited the ton and you want me to attend your little affair as proof of my acceptance of you?” she guessed.