The Marriage Lesson (25 page)

“Not yet.”

“Are you at least making some sort of progress?” Hope sounded in Becky’s voice.

The thought of Marianne’s lips caressing his chest sprung unbidden to his mind. He cleared his throat. “I believe I am.”

“Well, you need to work a little faster,” Jocelyn said firmly.

He stared at Marianne. Had he ever met a woman who responded so fully to his touch?

“There’s someone else,” Jocelyn said.

A woman whose eager innocence inflamed his senses . . . 

“Another suitor,” Becky added.

A woman who lingered in his mind long after she’d left his bed . . . 

“Helmsley.” Jocelyn smacked his shoulder and he jerked his gaze toward her.

“Ouch.” He glared. “What is it now?”

“Pay attention, Helmsley. This is important.” Jocelyn huffed in annoyance.”There’s another man.”

“Where’s another man?” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about the woman you ruined,” Becky snapped.

“The woman you have to marry,” Jocelyn said in a fierce whisper.

“Quiet,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want everyone to hear? Now explain yourselves.”

“Marianne was writing the newest
Country Miss
adventure yesterday,” Becky said. “And we just happened to see it.”

“It was a simple matter of distracting her.” Becky grinned. “Of course, it wasn’t quite finished—”

“Would you two get to the point?”

They traded tolerant glances. Becky sighed. “The point, my lord, is that there is someone else.”

Jocelyn smirked. “You have a rival.”

“A rival?” Thomas drew his brows together. “How can I have a rival?”

“I know it’s difficult for you to understand, given your charming manner, but there is another man.” Jocelyn’s tone was wry.

“When did she find the time?” he said under his breath. He turned his gaze toward Marianne, who was still chatting with Pennington.
Pennington?

“It scarcely matters who it is,” Jocelyn snapped, apparently reading his mind. “What matters is that there is a
who
and it’s the wrong
who
.”

“Unless,” Becky said slowly, “you’ve changed your mind about marrying her.”

“In which case”—Jocelyn clenched her teeth—“I shall make it my life’s purpose to—”

“Threats are not necessary,” he said absently. Pennington? How could she be interested in Pennington? “I fully intend on wedding Marianne. Even if I have to drag her kicking and screaming to the altar.”

“Say, there’s an idea,” Becky said brightly. “Couldn’t you kidnap her and take her to Gretna Green?”

“Oh, that would work nicely.” Sarcasm colored Jocelyn’s words. “Marianne wouldn’t care one whit about the scandalous nature of such an endeavor.”

“On further consideration,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully, “she would indeed consider it an adventure, which would be very good—”

Becky grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

“Although not necessarily one that ends in marriage.” Jocelyn shook her head. “You are going to have to come up with something better.”

“I will,” he said sharply. “Now, then, thank you both for the information and your suggestions—”

“We are willing to help,” Becky said.

“To do whatever is necessary,” Jocelyn added. “Goodness knows, you aren’t doing all that well on your own.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming.” Thomas cast Jocelyn a pointed look. “I am perfectly capable of convincing your sister to be my wife.” His gaze shifted to Becky. “Without benefit of kidnapping or other means of force.”

“We never doubted it for a minute.” Becky’s tone was overly sweet.

Jocelyn’s manner matched her sister’s. “You have our complete confidence.”

Thomas didn’t believe either of them. In spite of their words, it was clear neither sister thought he could succeed in winning Marianne’s hand. At this particular moment, even he had his doubts. Still, her stubbornness was no match for his determination. And he was determined.

Who knew adventure could be so terrifying?

Marianne straightened in the saddle and stared at the upcoming course. The Ride was laid out in a series of eight separate courses, each more difficult than the last. This was the third.

More than a hundred riders were participating, divided into six teams. The third team was on the course at the moment. Marianne’s was next. Pennington was in the group behind hers, but Berkley was on her team.

Thomas and Becky were on the second team and it was already apparent to Marianne their group would surely win the competition. Becky rode with barely controlled abandon, as if she were born on horseback. Thomas handled his horse as if they were of one body, one mind. As confident and compelling as a hero from a book.

She watched him take the jumps and maneuver around the obstacles and her heart leapt with a certain amount of fear and more than a little pride. This was the man she loved. He was magnificent.

“You needn’t continue, you know,” Berkley said beside her. “There’s no shame in quitting at any point. In fact, it’s expected that a fair number of riders won’t finish.” He nodded toward a young man. “The stable master posts someone at the start of each course. All you have to do is indicate to him that you’re not going on.”

“Yes, well, I am considering it.” She grimaced. Still, what would a heroine worth her salt do? She squared her shoulders. “However, not yet.”

“Not at all.” She laughed weakly. “I might more likely end up in the water up ahead than sail over it.”

“As many have done before you.” Berkley grinned. “I myself have taken a spill or two here in past years.”

She studied him carefully. While she was grateful for his encouragement and his company, she found herself a bit uncomfortable in his presence. The declaration of love in his letter was disquieting and she had no idea how to handle the situation. Still, she probably should do something.

Marianne drew a deep breath. “I have given your dilemma a great deal of thought, my lord, and I was wondering if you have come any closer to declaring yourself to the object of your affections.”

“From equestrian obstacles to obstacles of the heart?” He raised a brow. “Rather a startling shift of subject, don’t you think?”

Heat rushed up her face. “I do apologize. I should never have—”

“Nonsense.” He waved away her words. “I did confide in you, after all. To answer your question, I have written her of my feelings, but . . . ” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but she knew full well it did. “To no avail. She has not seen fit to respond.”

“Perhaps,” she said gently, “her affections are otherwise engaged.”

“Oh, I’m certain they are.” His expression darkened. “But he is not the man for her. He will break her heart and leave her alone and ruined.”

“Surely he is not that bad.” Unease settled in the pit of her stomach.

“He is a black-hearted villain,” Berkley said harshly.

His exploits—their exploits—had a grain of veracity in them but were only loosely based on her and Thomas’s. Still, it was obvious Berkley would never believe that if he knew the truth. Nor, she suspected, would anyone else.

“She must escape from his clutches. I will find her eventually.” Berkley’s voice was grim. “She needs me.”

“My lord”—Marianne laid her hand on his sleeve—“have you considered the possibility that she has not contacted you because she is, well, satisfied with her fate?”

His brow furrowed into a forbidding frown. “I cannot believe that. And I will not until I hear it from her own lips.”

She studied him with a sense of helplessness. Poor, sweet man. He’d gotten caught up in her imagination and now fancied himself in love with a woman who bore only a vague resemblance to reality. This was her fault entirely and it was up to her to do something about it.

“My dear Lord Berkley,” she said slowly, removing her hand. “I fear you are something of a fool.”

“How can you . . . ” He drew himself up and glared. “I thought you understood. I thought—”

“I daresay, I—”

“You are in love with a dream. A fantasy, with no more substance than the story in a book. Fiction, my lord”—she shook her head—“is not, nor shall it ever be, real.”

“My lady, I—”

“Look around you.” Marianne gestured at the crowd. “There are several lovely young ladies here. Real women, and I suspect there are any number who could care for you deeply.”

He studied her intently. “Do you think so?”

“I do indeed.” She laughed with relief. “Why, you are quite charming and more than a little handsome. Any woman—any real woman, that is—would be flattered to be the object of your attentions. And I would suspect more than one would return your affection.”

“Really?” A slow, pleased smile spread across his face.

“Really.” Satisfaction spread through her. With luck, Berkley would forget all about the country miss now and turn his interest elsewhere. “Now, then, it appears our team is about to begin, whether I am ready or not.”

“Never fear. I shall be beside you,” he said staunchly. “Should you need my assistance.”

She studied the course with reluctance. “It is good to know there will be someone close at hand to help me up should this creature and I part company.”

“Thank you,” she murmured and directed her attention toward the obstacles ahead, pushing aside the uneasy feeling that while she might have deflected Berkley’s affections from the country miss, she might also have pointed them in a new and unforeseen direction.

Or could it be Berkley?

Thomas watched Marianne’s team progress through the course. Berkley, usually an excellent rider, hung back from the others to keep pace with Marianne. Her ability on horseback was adequate at best. Thomas was at once grateful for and annoyed at Berkley’s attention. Surely she didn’t need that much assistance?

He did have to admit, though, she had a fair amount of courage. Misplaced, perhaps, but there nonetheless. She tried to hide her apprehension, but he, and possibly he alone, could see it in the line of her mouth and set of her chin. At least she was smart enough to be concerned, given the increasing difficulty of the courses and her limited skills. But she’d yet to give up. He smiled in spite of himself and noted a surprising touch of pride. She was most impressive, every inch a future duchess.
His
future duchess. And just as obstinate as every duchess who’d come before her.

She made it over a moderately tricky jump but landed hard. He couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.

Marianne approached a water obstacle and Thomas held his breath. Her horse was well trained and took the jump with an ease that belied the flash of fear on her face.

Was Berkley the new suitor in the country miss’s life? Or was it Pennington? He dismissed the unsettling thought that perhaps it was someone else altogether.

Bloody hell, who could determine anything when it came to Marianne? Why couldn’t she be a . . .  well, typical female? Someone who wanted nothing more than marriage and a husband whose desires and needs she would lovingly see to? A woman who would never question the decisions or actions of a spouse?

He blew a long, frustrated breath, knowing the answer at once.

If Marianne were such a woman, then she wouldn’t be the one woman who tied his insides in knots and drove him stark-raving mad and ruled his mind as well as his loins.

Thomas watched until she had made it safely through the course, and released a relieved breath. Surely she’d give up now, but who knew what she’d do? She was obstinate enough to continue until she landed flat on her adorable backside. She probably saw the Ride as an adventure: dangerous and exciting.

She joined Berkley at the end of the course, her laughter floating in the slight breeze. Thomas narrowed his eyes.

Danger. Adventure. Seduction. Romance.

The words pulsed in his head, the answer teasing just out of reach. Where was the danger in romance? The adventure in seduction?

It was so simple he should have realized it long ago. He smiled slowly. Danger and adventure went hand in hand with the lure of the forbidden and the threat of discovery.

And he whispered a silent prayer to long-dead Effington ancestors for their forethought in fashioning the one place that could provide exactly that.