The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (48 page)

And then Edward sauntered into the room.

* * * *

“With all due respect, sir, if left to his own devices Edward will bankrupt the estate,” Nathan had found himself arguing not long thereafter. The pleasant moment he had shared with his father had swiftly ended soon after Edward’s appearance.

Now, several hours later and in the heat of the day, Nathan rode with Talbot and a couple of Talbot’s friends across the Avon and up the hill to Prior Park. There he reined in his filly, Jezebel, and parted company with the gentlemen. He slowed Jezebel’s pace and steered her toward the shade of a leafy bower. His friends rode on ahead toward a gaggle of ladies who were strolling through a roofed Palladian bridge.

He immediately recognized Iona amongst the group. Several strands of her long blonde hair had escaped the confines of her wide-brimmed bonnet and waved in the summer breeze with a hoyden’s freedom down the back of her willow green walking dress. She stood next to a pedimented pavilion on one end of the bridge, apart from the other ladies. She looked terribly small and alone as she tossed breadcrumbs into the mirrored lake the ornate bridge traversed. Two white trumpeter swans were chasing each other, vying for her undivided attentions.

Nathan understood their frustrations. Instead of riding up to greet her, he sought the solace of the gentle wilderness. Unfortunately no amount of calm could keep the echoes of his father’s words from assaulting him.

“What trickery are you serving me this time, boy?” his father had demanded before banging his fist against a delicate rosewood table and splintering its center leg with a loud crack.

“None, sir. I assure you.” A few months earlier he had approached his father with these same concerns over Edward’s dealings with the estate and had run up against deaf ears. This time, with Miss Darly added to the list of troubles, he had hoped he’d be able to convince his father to listen.

“Do not listen to him, Father,” Edward had said. A vicious edge had infected his naturally smooth voice. “I can explain away his outrageous charges against me. But he cannot explain away what he has done.”

Nathan cursed as he remembered the hatred darkening Edward’s face during that harrowing moment. Jezebel’s ears twitched with alarm. The young filly danced sideways, anxious to break out into a hard run. Nathan bent down and patted the mare’s neck, cooing soft, meaningless sounds that seemed to soothe her.

If only his own concerns could be so easily chased away.

Edward, with his deceptively angelic face and quick tongue, always seemed able to sway their father’s opinions.

The heir and flawless scion of the Portfry name, who soaked up his parents’ affection like a sponge, chose to stand directly in front of Nathan. With his back to his own brother, Edward dealt a killing blow.

“All of Bath is awash with concern this morning, Father,” he said. “Despite the concern and charity you heaped upon him that first time, his actions once again soar beyond the pale. Scandalous whispers claim that he has spent the past week leading a young lady of considerable standing down the steep path to ruin. And not just any lady but an innocent whose reputation up until now has been beyond reproach.”

Beyond reproach.

Iona was known by all and sundry as the good daughter, the obedient one. She sipped her tea with the elegance of a queen and comported herself with an unemotional ease that elevated her cultured ennui into a kind of art form.

It was that beautiful reputation of hers—her exquisite perfection—Nathan had hoped to exploit. To use her to wash the stain of
bad seed
forever from his life.

If she could love him, chinks and all, then perhaps her affection could change his parents’ poor opinion of him. Perhaps they too could learn to love…

But now that was probably an impossibility. Now everyone would be looking for her—this unfortunate paragon he supposedly seduced—and all because someone had been spreading rumors.

After his meeting with his father had ended in failure, he had gone straight to the apartments at Saw Close in order to confront Talbot. He’d mercilessly shaken the poor man until Talbot had turned blue in the face. Which accomplished nothing.

Coughing and rubbing his neck, Talbot had vowed on his grandfather’s tomb that he hadn’t revealed to anyone, save Nathan, how he’d seen through Lady Iona’s shocking masquerade.

But if Talbot had seen through Iona’s disguise last night, there was no telling how many more gentlemen visiting Goldsmith’s had seen through it as well.

Which meant Iona’s reputation was teetering on a very sharp edge. And not just because she’d played the part of rogue last night—that alone could be overlooked as a playful farce. What had Nathan worried was that his name was quickly becoming associated with her antics. And such an association could only harm both of them.

No doubt, any association she might have with him, even an innocent conversation taking place under the watchful eyes of polite society, would be met with raised brows and speculations.

An overwhelming sense of loss washed over him as he wandered into the depths of Prior Park’s forest. The chance to repair the shattered relationship with his father and mother had likely slipped away forever with the dawning of this latest rumor.

Hell, his father hadn’t even paused to question whether it was true.

“What? What? You’ve ruined another young lady?” he had shouted, his voice echoing throughout the townhouse. “What madness is this?” He heaved a deep breath that did nothing to drain the puce color flushing his cheeks. “My own flesh and blood has soiled yet another of England’s precious flowers? What madness is this?” he repeated through a tightening wheeze.

Nathan had rushed forward to help his father when the old codger had started to choke on a fit of thick coughs.

Edward held his ground, his cool gaze fixed on the Marquess and his awful struggles for breath. “I believe my brother is trying to deflect blame by concocting this tale about my careless involvement with an actress,” he said in an emotionless voice that sent a chill sailing straight through Nathan.

“Never again—” the Marquess had started to say before another fit of sharp coughs hit him. Nathan pounded on his father’s broad back several times to help clear his chest.

“Leave me,” the Marquess whispered once he’d regained the barest strength necessary for speech. He swallowed hard. “Do not come back unless sent for. If I learn these rumors are indeed true, boy, I will take up a horsewhip against you.”

* * * *

Although Iona desperately wanted to seek out Nathan and warn him about what she’d overheard in the milliner’s shop, the best she’d been able to do was to dash off a brief note to his apartment. She tossed a handful of breadcrumbs to the birds and assured herself that it was beyond foolish to attempt to meet with him today when all of Bath seemed to be waiting breathlessly to ferret out her identity.

The grounds at Prior Park were impressive. At the top of a large hill, the main house, an impressive imitation of a Palladian villa, stood watch. Iona strolled through the fields and gardens with her sister and Amelia. Lillian kept the conversation on the upcoming Victory Gala. She was ever so excited about the ribbons and fluff she’d purchased that morning. And Amelia had been busy speculating on whether the fireworks display would be as grand as those seen in London’s Vauxhall.

Iona had silently listened, nodding at the appropriate intervals but not really paying close attention.

“What’s this?” A note of excitement added extra volume to Lillian’s voice. “Do you think they are coming to talk with us?”

Iona’s head snapped up from the pond. She spotted three gentlemen leading their mounts toward them. Lord Grainger’s long legs seemed to carry him toward Iona with supernatural speed. His dappled gray mare followed behind him, her hooves clomping a heavy beat.

He tossed his mount’s reins to his friend and then bowed over Iona’s hand. A deeply furrowed brow had replaced the laughter she was used to seeing dancing in his eyes.

“Lord Grainger,” she said and dipped her head, hoping to shield a heated rush of embarrassment within the brim of her bonnet as she remembered the shameful way he’d acted toward her last evening at Goldsmith’s. “What-what a surprise it is to see you this afternoon.”

“I have an urgent need to speak with you in private,” he said barely loud enough for even her ears to hear. His hand tightened around hers. “You will stroll with me?”

Her first thought was to refuse and turn away. Yet she couldn’t, not when there was a chance he might blurt out that he’d seen her with Nathan last evening. He could easily ruin both her and Nathan’s reputations with a swipe of his tongue.

So while Lord Grainger’s beaus were busily paying court to Lillian and Amelia, who were both practicing their coquettish glances and sly smiles on the pair of unsuspecting gentlemen, Iona set her hand on Lord Grainger’s arm and strolled with him down a stone path that led into a heavily shaded wood. After passing under a canopy of a thick grouping of beech trees, she withdrew her hand from his arm.

They were far enough away from the group that there could be no possibility of being overheard. She wasn’t about to allow him to lead her so deeply into the woods that they would completely disappear from view.

“Yes, Lord Grainger. What do you wish to tell me?” she asked, making sure she sounded baffled that he could have anything of import to tell her.

“There is much about gossip that must not be believed,” he said. “Do you not agree?”

She tilted her head slightly. “I rarely pay attention to the empty chatter of bored society ladies.”

“That is good to hear.” He chewed his bottom lip. A question brushed past his brow as he threaded her fingers through his. “I will not pretend to understand what is going on in that confounding head of yours, Iona. But since I still hold you in high regard, I will provide you with a bit of undeserved advice. You will do well to pay attention to your fickle heart and not your ears these next few weeks. Be brave and stay strong. For I’m afraid, things will soon become most difficult for you.”

She held her ground when he again tried to lead her deeper into the forest. “Are you threatening me?”

“No, but I do suggest you leave the wearing of pantaloons and mustaches to the men.”

“I would thank you, sir, to watch what you say. What you are suggesting is…” A hot blush rose up her cheeks as she jerked her hand from his grasp. “Is most ludicrous. I would never—”

“Lady Iona!” Lord Grainger shouted and seemed to immediately regret his outburst. He gave a nervous glance toward his friends and Lillian and Amelia. They were all laughing at something the shy Amelia had said. Lord Grainger cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Wynter is waiting to speak with you at the end of this trail.”

“He is?” she whispered.

With Lord Grainger standing guard at the trailhead, she hurried down the darkened path. A summer gust tripped through the trees overhead, the leaves whispering secrets of love and passion.

Each step brought her closer to Nathan. She fisted her skirt’s fabric, raising the hem by several inches to give her legs the freedom to trot over the roots pushing out on the long-forgotten trail. She ran blindly, trusting that Nathan would be waiting for her, stopping only when she rushed out into a small fairy circle. Beams of golden sunlight filled the grassy space.

She turned around fully before her eyes fell on him.

Shrouded in the shadows, Nathan had one booted foot kicked back, his toes propped against the white trunk of a beech tree. His arms were crossed and a look of satisfaction was snug upon his mouth, a mouth Iona felt fairly certain she shouldn’t be noticing with such breathless anticipation. She licked her lips while thinking of succulent fruits.

Again he had dressed with a rogue’s flair. His dove-colored pantaloons were scandalously tight—another thing she definitely should not be noticing. And his hat had been discarded on the carpet of grass.

He held a single violet blue periwinkle, a friendship bloom, in his leather-gloved hand with the same care he’d hold a fragile piece of crystal.

Her skirt slipped from her fingers. Being with him made her feel uncommonly safe.

Nathan raised a brow. A curious smile creased those kissable lips of his. “Your ankles are as lovely as the rest of you, Iona,” he said. “But then again, I already knew that.”

His teasing voice suddenly made her very aware of her body and how it was rejoicing at the sight of him. Even her skin seemed to tingle in delight.

How he could conjure a playful emotion when they were living on the edge of what promised to explode into a disaster, she could not fathom.

“You have heard what people are saying about us?” she asked.

He gave a nod. “Vicious scoundrels, do you not agree? Scurrying around with their noses to the ground in search of the next juicy morsel.” He shrugged it away as if it meant nothing to him. “And I also received your frantic note. That is why I arranged this meeting.”

He pushed away from the tree and crossed the distance between them. “It is kind of you to worry about my family’s reaction, but unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Guilt flooded her veins. She was the one who had pressed him into following her in this quest for independence. He hadn’t wanted to help her and had warned her to return to the bosom of her family at every turn. “If not for me and my romp through Goldsmith’s last night, your name may not have been bandied around the Pump Room with such vigor this morning. I am completely to blame and I find it insufferable that your family might—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Do not worry about what my family might think. In fact, this turn of events might eventually help repair the deep and painful rift that has formed between my father and me.”

“But I—” she tried to take the blame even though his warm finger was still pressed up against her plump lips.

“Scandal follows me around quite doggedly, I’m afraid. If not you, those tabbies would have found some other story to attach to my name.” He drew his hand away. “They could have chosen to talk about a certain actress who is raising a bastard son with my likeness…or a certain widow who arrived in Bath with as much pomp as a member of the royal family.”