The Training of a Marquess (12 page)

Then…

Then Aubrey had brought Teresa home from France after her husband was killed. Chase had stopped seeing other women, and set about making Teresa his. From that day until eight months after she died and he had walked through the door of the Pink Slipper, he hadn’t touched another woman.

His infrequent visits to the Pink Slipper were only out of necessity when the need built up and he required release. There was no threat to his heart in those visits. No worries he would lose it again to someone like Teresa. Or Claire. She was a new threat, one he was having trouble resisting.

Claire was as different from Teresa as night from day. Teresa had been broken and what remained of her had been as fragile as a crystal glass—easily shattered if not handled with extreme care. In the end, she had shattered despite his gentle care. Thinking back on their time together, he realized he had been more of a caretaker than a husband.

He had put aside his own needs hoping that one day she would heal and be the kind of wife he wanted. Someone to stand beside him, someone he could trust with his heart. Teresa had tried—God knows she had—but she had never been able to put the past behind her.

She had never loved him and for that reason alone, he would not risk his heart again. It was only through sheer will that he’d patched the splintered pieces back together.

Claire might be the one woman who could be all the things he had once wished for, but what if he was wrong? What if there was another Harry out there somewhere waiting to claim her heart?

He should avoid her. It was the wise thing to do, yet he kept finding reasons to be in her company.

He closed his eyes and settled into a troubled sleep.

Chapter Ten

The devil lord didn’t play fair. Claire clutched the letters from the twins in her fist and paced the floor of her bedroom. She had planned to send a note in the morning excusing herself from the outing.

The man she loved planned to take her to London to find her a husband? How dare he! Was she a piece of unwanted furniture to be sold to the highest bidder? When word of the wealth Chase planned to bestow on her leaked out, the fortune hunters would arrive on her doorstep in droves.

The blasted man.

If she had to have a husband, why couldn’t it be him? He desired her. Even in her inexperience, she knew that much. It wasn’t love, but it was more than she’d had with Thomas. Why couldn’t he see how a marriage between them would benefit them both? She could give him an heir, be a mother to his boys, manage his stables and be his friend. It would be the perfect arrangement for him.

As for her, well, she would have him.

But the ghost of his wife stood between them. How could she break down his walls? Unfortunately, she had no clue how a woman went about getting a marriage proposal from the man her heart wanted. She only knew how to get a horse’s attention. If only it were that simple.

As Claire sought sleep, the idea of how to make Chase want her played on her mind. Several hours later, she sat straight up in bed.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed.

She would go about it in the same way she would with a frightened, damaged horse. Granted, he wasn’t a horse, but he was damaged. Although his scars didn’t show, they were there all the same. Until he healed, he would be too skittish to risk his heart again, and he had such a big heart.

It was there in his love for the two boys he had rescued from the streets. It was there in his love for his family, and even in his love for his silly horse. The man surrounded himself with only who and what he trusted to never betray him. Like a horse that had learned not to trust an abusive master, Chase had learned not to trust a woman.

She had worked with abused horses. Too many men thought the way to train a horse was to beat the animal into submission with the whip and harsh treatment. Too often, the results were a mean, savage beast or a quivering mass of horseflesh afraid of its own shadow. Their spirits were stolen, their pride destroyed. Through trial and error, she had developed her own unique methods for giving a horse its pride back.

She had never met a horse she couldn’t help. Could she help heal this man? Too excited to return to sleep, she planned her strategy for what she decided to call The Training of a Marquess.

The first stage in working with a troubled horse was to let him see her, to let him wonder about her. Horses were curious animals.

When she worked with one of her yearlings, his first questions was,
Who are you and what do you want from me?
If it was a damaged horse, the question would be a suspicious,
What are you going to do to hurt me?

It was up to her to prove the horse was safe with her. The very challenge she faced with Chase. She had taken the first steps in getting him to notice her, but he needed to be more curious. He needed to wonder about her. The Training of a Marquess would start first thing in the morning with Stage One: Notice Me.

****

Chase led the twins into the stables at precisely eleven. His carriage was harnessed and his coachman stood in front of the cattle. At the hitching post, Mischief and Victory stomped impatient hooves—saddled and ready to go. Claire and Amira were the only missing invitees to this outing. Amira’s stall was empty so he went to Claire’s office and found Gordon.

“Have you seen Lady Derebourne?”

“Yes, my lord. She said to tell you to go on and she would catch up with you.”

It irritated him that she wasn’t here and ready. He returned to the front of the stables. “Let’s go,” he told the boys.

“Isn’t Lady Derebourne coming with us?” Harry asked.

“Harry said my lady would go on our picnic. Harry said our letters would do the trick,” Bensey said, close to tears.

“She said we were to go on ahead and she would catch up to us. Is the food basket in the carriage, Bensey?” Chase asked to divert the boy’s attention.

Bensey peered in the carriage door. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. No sneaking any cakes before we arrive at the seashore.” Bensey he would trust not to sneak a cake—Harry, never.

“I won’t.” Clutching his book on the plants of coastal England and his satchel, Bensey climbed into the carriage.

Chase and Harry mounted their horses and rode out ahead. Chase’s mind turned to Claire. Where was she? The last time he saw her, she had been sitting on a rock crying. There was no reason to worry. If she chose not to come, so be it. It only meant he didn’t have to contend with another sad woman. After Teresa, he didn’t have it in him.

He rode alongside Harry, half-listening to the boy’s chatter. As soon as Lady Anne arrived, he’d remove himself from Claire’s presence. His mother would be able to comfort Claire and deal with her melancholy much better than he.

Deep in thought, he didn’t hear the approaching horse until it was right behind him. Harry gave a delighted laugh, and Chase turned to see what amused his son.

A laughing, pale-haired sprite wearing black leather breeches raced past them. Amira’s mane boasted flowers and tinkling bells, and her tail was braided with colorful ribbons.

What the deuce?

Claire—a big grin on her face—pulled up and turned her horse to face them.

Where was the despondent woman he expected? Not that he regretted her good cheer, but Chase didn’t know what to make of her. She was a vision in her leather breeches and a red silk blouse, astride a horse decorated as if it had stepped out of a fairy tale. She wore her hair in a braided tail that reached her waist. Red and silver earrings dangled from her ears. The only thing that kept her from being mistaken for a gypsy was her moonlight pale hair.

She muddled his mind and stirred his blood. He didn’t understand her. There was a time in his life—before Teresa—when he prided himself on knowing women better than most. Now, he was as confused as the next man.

“I say, Amira is ever so pretty, my lady,” Harry said

Her bells jingling, Amira pranced as if she knew she was indeed a lovely sight to behold. Claire moved with the mare as if she and the horse were one. The festive Arabian and the intriguing woman captivated Chase. How hard was it going to be to convince Bensey to draw them?

“Thank you, Harry,” the enchantress said. “Amira’s quite proud of her flowers and bells.”

The carriage caught up with them and Bensey leaned out the window, grinning from ear to ear.

Claire rode closer to him. “What do you think of Amira’s flowers, Bensey?”

“I think she is beautiful, my lady. May I draw you and Amira?”

“Amira would be honored, as would I.”

Well, that answers that. It seemed the twins were no more immune to her enchantment than he. Chase shook his head to clear it of the pixie dust she had obviously sprinkled in the air. He had to get her out of his mind. She wasn’t for him, and if he kept hammering the thought into his mind, it might sink in.

“Lady Claire,” he said, and cursed the huskiness in his voice. “I’m pleased you were able to join us. The boys were worried.”

Ignoring Chase, she gave the twins a big smile. “Well, I’m here now, so shall we go have our picnic?”

“Oh, yes, my lady,” they said in unison.

She patted Bensey’s hand. “Would you mind terribly if your father, Harry, and I raced for a while? I promise we’ll wait for you to catch up before we reach the sea.”

“No, my lady, but tell John Coachman that I won’t mind if he goes a little faster.”

Was that his son speaking? Normally, Bensey didn’t want the carriage to go faster than a light trot. Apparently, the twins had also inhaled the pixie dust. As Chase gave his coachman instructions, the minx laughed and took off with Harry, the boy’s laughter mingling with hers.

She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Good bye, my lord,” she called.

Did she think to leave him behind?

Claire smiled at the sound of Mischief’s hooves pounding the dirt as Chase raced after them. If the heat in his eyes when she’d reached them was any indication, her plan was working. She held Amira back so Harry could easily keep up.

Victory was a fine horse and could go faster, but she didn’t want to push the boy past his abilities. He was a good rider for his age and if taught right, would develop into an excellent horseman. Perhaps Chase would let Harry spend some time with her in the training ring.

Harry pealed with excited laughter. “Father’s almost here,” he yelled. “Can we go faster?”

She inched Amira a little closer to him. “Can you keep a secret?”

When he nodded, she said, “We know we can beat him, but we’re going to let him catch up. We don’t want to hurt his feelings, do we?”

He gave her one of his impish grins. “But we won, right?”

“Yes, but that will be our secret.”

When Chase reached them, the three settled into an easy gallop. Claire let the man and boy pull ahead. She wanted to know how well the marquess rode. She was pleased to see he had a good seat and a light touch with the reins.

There was nothing worse than a rider with a heavy hand. She could never love a man who mistreated a horse, one who jerked the bit in his mount’s mouth or gave hard kicks to his flanks, or any number of things she’d seen them do.

Though, she mused, it might be better if he was one of those men. It would give her a reason not to love him. She didn’t want to go to London and find a husband, couldn’t imagine a man existed that she would want more than Chase.

He pulled alongside, his head bent low over Mischief’s neck. Her silly heart wept for what could be if only…but all was not lost. She still had her plan. Her methods had never failed with a horse, but would they work with him?

Even at a fast gallop, he managed to send her a look of such awareness she feared she might slide right off the saddle. She almost did when he grinned, showing his dimple.

Claire managed to return his smile and nudged Amira to pick up her speed. She raced past Chase and Harry, giving them a merry laugh. The sound of hooves pounding behind her thrilled her adventurous self.

She leaned over Amira’s neck. “Show them what you can do, my lovely.”

Amira, never one to hesitate to show herself off, lowered her head and raced the wind. When they were within a mile of the sea, Claire reined in the mare and gradually slowed her to a lope. Chase and Harry fell in beside her. They circled the horses, allowing them to cool down while waiting for the carriage.

“That was grand fun,” Harry said, and then with a sly gleam in his eyes, added, “We didn’t think you would catch up with us, Father, but somehow you did.”

Chase glanced suspiciously at the boy, and Claire hid her smile. It seemed he knew his son well. Although Chase hadn’t said much, his attention had stayed on her from the time she’d raced past him to the music of Amira’s jingling bells.

That’s right, notice me.
She gave Amira the signal to rear up. The Arabian stood on her hind legs as her front hooves pawed the air above her head. Harry laughed with glee. Chase nudged Mischief alongside Amira.

“You’re killing me, Claire,” he murmured. “Be glad we have an audience, or…”

The carriage arrived, and he backed Mischief away. Or what? Bells in hell, she wanted to know what he’d started to say.

Pivoting Amira, Claire led them to a path that would allow them to take the horses with them to the beach. “We should remove their saddles so we don’t risk them getting wet,” she suggested.

After removing the saddles, Chase retrieved the food basket and they led the horses down to the beach with Bensey following, carrying his book and satchel. When they reached the bottom, Claire sat on a rock to pull off her boots and stockings.

“May we take our boots off, Father?” Harry asked.

Chase placed the basket behind a rock, out of the sun. “It would be a good idea to do so. You don’t want to get them wet.”

The twins seemed excited by the idea of being barefoot and immediately set to work on removing each other’s boots. Claire breathed deeply of the salty air as her gaze took in the beauty of the sea. The waves were gentle today, and she always felt at peace when she came here.

She tried not to think that this might be the last time she would see it. The boys’ laughter resolved her to enjoy herself and make a happy memory of this day.