Until You (4 page)

“Thank you, Madame,” Ashleigh said politely as she stepped down from the small platform upon which she had been standing for the past half-hour.

“Are you certain the lavender silk is the correct choice for this one?” Madeline asked, holding up one of the fashion plates for Madame Olivier to see.  “The pale green would look quite lovely as well I think.”

Leaving Madeline and Madame Olivier to sort out the final details amongst themselves, Ashleigh quickly donned the pink-striped muslin gown that she had been wearing earlier, and excused herself from the room.

Ashleigh’s first few days at
Sethe
Manor passed by more quickly than she could have imagined.  If she wasn't being detained by one of Madame Olivier's numerous fittings, she was engaged in conversations with the duchess regarding everything from Socrates to proper social etiquette.  Although she didn’t particularly enjoy the latter, she understood the importance of what Madeline was imparting to her, and did her best to absorb every minute detail, for she had no wish to disappoint her grandfather, or Madeline. 

Thankfully, Madeline had benevolently sanctioned Ashleigh's daily rides, providing her with a temporary reprieve from the unaccustomed tumult.  She sat astride Raider now, her gaze sweeping the surrounding countryside as they galloped across a low grassy meadow.

With his business affairs in order, Nicholas had finally managed to escape the city.  He had decided to forgo the coach and had been riding for nearly two hours when he reached the boundary of his property, though he still had several miles to go before reaching the estate itself.  Deeply inhaling the fresh clean air, he felt his spirits lift as they always did when he neared his country home. 

Nicholas regarded
Sethe
Manor, the ancestral home of the
Sethe
family for eight generations as his own private retreat.  The estate offered him an escape from London’s constant barrage of activity and from the pressure that came with managing the family’s immense financial interests.  He spent as much time there as he possibly could, but even so, it wasn’t nearly enough. 

Unfortunately however, his private retreat had been invaded, and he intended to rectify the situation immediately.  Not only was the interloper unwelcome, but she was the exact type of person he did his best to avoid, another irksome debutante about to enter the social whirl and cast her net in the hope of ensnaring the Season’s most eligible bachelor.  They were all so annoyingly predictable, wanting nothing more than to make their mark on Society by landing the wealthiest and most highly-titled husband possible.  Every year another batch of the vain, self-serving young ladies entered the fray, and every year acquiring the coveted title of Duchess of
Sethe
seemed to be their ultimate goal.  

To this day, it infuriated him that he had very nearly fallen prey to one of those scheming creatures himself.  Unbidden, the distasteful memory of Melissa Van Buren came to mind.  He had been young and naive then, and Melissa had been the Season’s reining beauty.  He had fallen for her at once, soon acting the besotted, love-sick fool for all to see.  She had told him that she loved him, and unwittingly he had believed her.  Fortunately however, he had discovered her true nature before he’d made the dreadful mistake of marrying her, when he had inadvertently stumbled upon her in the arms of another man, the pair hidden within the shadowy gardens of the Earl and Countess of Stamford’s country home during a lavish weekend gathering.
 

Unnoticed, he’d stood listening in shocked disbelief as she had professed her undying love to the unknown gentleman, promising him that their affair would continue once she snared England’s most sought-after bachelor and became the next Duchess of
Sethe
.
 
Having intended to propose that very night, he had been not only devastated and broken-hearted, but he’d also felt like a fool.  It had been a harsh lesson learned; a stupid mistake he never intended to repeat.

Darn it all!  What on earth had his grandmother been thinking, inviting Ashleigh St. John into their home he wondered, grinding his teeth in silent frustration?
 
However, with his thoughts turning toward his grandmother, he found it increasingly difficult to remain cross.  Madeline Leighton, the Dowager Duchess of
Sethe
was one of the few people who cared about him for anything other than his title and his wealth, and he loved her dearly.  He and Brendon were both extremely fortunate to have such an amazing woman in their lives.
 
With his thoughts turning ruefully to his childhood, he was as always, exceedingly grateful that his grandmother had been there to restore order to his shattered life, as well as his younger brother’s. 

He still remembered with perfect clarity that day nineteen years ago when his world had been torn apart, and still recalled every one of his father’s callous words on that terrible morning, “Your whore of a mother is gone,” he’d said with harsh finality.  He’d been sitting in his father’s study, seated upon a large wingback chair, his feet barely touching the floor, gazing at his father in stunned silence as he’d snarled those awful words.  He had then watched warily as his father had grabbed a whiskey decanter from the corner of his desk and refilled his empty glass.  Gulping the contents in one long swallow, the duke had then slammed the empty tumbler down onto the top of the desk, shattering the delicate crystal and causing Nicholas to shrink back into his chair as tiny shards of glass had flown out in all directions.  Although he had loved and respected his father, he’d always been a little frightened of him as well, and had been especially so on that day.

“Listen to me very carefully Nicholas,” his father had ordered, piercing him with eyes the same deep blue as his own.  “As of today you shall never speak your mother’s name again.”  

Nicholas had merely stared at his father in stunned silence, utterly shocked and confused by his father’s decree.

“Nothing was ever good enough for her, not me, not this house, and not even her own children,” he had continued harshly, his features set in a cold, angry cast.  “She’s run off Nicholas, run off and betrayed us all.”

He had sat in that chair for over an hour that day, listening to his father cursing his mother, fighting to hold back his tears, afraid to let them fall in front of his angry drunken father, thankful that his younger brother was safely away in the nursery. 

When he had finally been allowed to return to his bedchamber, he remembered thinking that none of what his father had said had made sense.  He’d loved his mother with all his heart, and she’d loved him.  He knew she had.  She’d told him so all the time.  She was kind and beautiful and smelled like rose petals.  She’d read him stories and kissed his cheeks every night before she’d tucked him into bed.  How could she have been gone?  Why had she left him?  He hadn’t understood.

Now, nineteen years later, he understood perfectly.  His mother, whom he’d adored above all others, had abandoned her husband and two children without as much as a word of goodbye, to be with another man.  His distraught father had killed himself two weeks later, leaving him and his four-year-old brother Brendon without either of their parents.  Nicholas had never forgiven his mother for abandoning them, and to this day held her completely to blame for his father's death.  Even after the duke’s funeral,
Lysette
Leighton hadn’t returned to
Sethe
Manor, not even for her children.  It was the cruelest of betrayals and had torn at his very soul.

Thankfully, his grandmother had immediately stepped in to rebuild what was left of their family, and bless her, she had been there for them ever since.  She was the only woman in his life that he had ever been able to count on.  Over the years, she had never shown him anything but love and kindness, and with unwavering determination, she had gradually put the pieces of their shattered lives back together.  In addition, and in spite of the awful tragedy and ensuing scandal that had befallen their family, she had always stood proud, commanding respect and never allowing anyone to forget that she was a
Sethe
, and that her grandsons were
Sethes
.  She had instilled that same sense of family honor in him and Brendon as well. 

As always, thinking of her brought a smile to his lips.
 
She was a remarkable woman, and she would always have both his love and his respect.
 
Even when she makes an occasional error in judgment
, Nicholas thought with a sigh, slowly shaking his head from side to side as his mount continued to eat up the miles.

When he drew nearer to
Sethe
Manor, he paused for a moment atop a grassy hill that overlooked the valley below.  As he always did, he felt a great deal of peace and contentment, as well as pride, when he viewed the land that had been in his family for generations.  Late fall was evident in the color of the remaining leaves on the trees, and brilliant shades of red, yellow and gold were reflected in the bright sunlight.  Tall grasses swayed gently in the soft breeze and a handful of billowy white clouds drifted slowly overhead.  After weeks stuck in the city, it was a welcome sight.
 
He only wished that his brother was home, for he and Brendon had always been close, and he missed him.
 
They had a special bond, and Nicholas couldn’t have asked for a better brother, or a better friend.

The peaceful landscape, as well as his silent musings were suddenly interrupted however, as a lone rider streaked across the meadow below, seated astride an enormous black stallion.  They were traveling at a breakneck speed and Nicholas feared the hapless rider had somehow lost control of the huge beast.  If he were thrown he was bound to be seriously injured, if not killed.

He took off at once, intending to intercept them and do what he could to prevent a potentially disastrous accident.  As he drew closer to the pair, he was stunned to see that the rider appeared to be a young female dressed in boy’s clothing, her long hair tied back with a ribbon at the nape of her neck. 

Unaware that she had gained an audience, Ashleigh lightly touched her booted heels to Raider's sides, encouraging him to an even faster pace as they flew across the grassy plain.  She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the brisk morning air, exhilaration heightening her senses.  They soared over a small, shallow ravine, and for a moment, they were airborne, seeming to drift even lighter than the morning breeze, before Raider's powerful hooves once again met with solid ground and their mad flight continued on.

Bending low over Raider's neck, she whispered words of praise and admiration.  It was only then that she noticed another rider from the corner of her eye.  Approaching from the distance, he appeared to be riding hard and heading straight for them.  Surprised to see someone on
Sethe
land, and curious about his intent, she immediately slowed their pace and then pulled Raider to a stop.

Nicholas could scarcely believe his eyes as he watched the girl bring the animal to a halt with obvious ease.  Clearly she had been in control the entire time; the wild and reckless ride had been deliberate.  His chivalry quickly turned to anger.  She could have been killed.

As he approached, he could see that her expression conveyed nothing more than mild curiosity and his anger intensified.  Apparently, she was completely unconcerned, or naively unaware, that her reckless behavior could have resulted in her death, or severe injury at the very least.  He drew up beside her and without hesitation, reached out and grabbed the reins from her hands, startling not only her, but her mount as well, causing the stallion to sidestep nervously.

It happened so quickly, catching her off guard, the reins slipping from Ashleigh’s hold as he snatched them away.  The sun was at his back and its brightness momentarily blinded her, causing her to squint at the man beside her.  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, more outraged than frightened as she made a futile attempt to retrieve the reins from his grasp.

“You little fool,” he nearly shouted.  “Don't you realize you could have been killed riding like that?”

Startled by his harsh, angry tone, Ashleigh stopped grabbing for the reins, regarding him in complete bewilderment for a moment.  Her view of the man’s face was still hindered by the brightness of the sun, but she quickly surmised that the fellow must have thought that she was in danger, and had apparently been trying to rescue her.  Instead of feeling appreciative, she was slightly offended.  It was so like a man to assume that because she was a female she couldn’t ride well, or shouldn’t ride well.  How ridiculous!

She gave an unladylike snort, wondering what his reaction would be if she challenged him to a race, and then smiled dismissively at the thought; it wouldn't even be a contest.  Although, his stallion
was
magnificent she noted with the experienced eye of someone who knew quality horseflesh when she saw it.  In fact, he was almost as superb as her beloved Raider.  Hmm, perhaps she should challenge him, she mused, beginning to find the entire situation rather amusing.

Noting the sudden amusement in her eyes, Nicholas’ anger continued to escalate.  He couldn't believe it, he had been trying to help the foolish chit, and this was the response he got.  He was about to say just as much, but it was then that he took his first really good look at her, and when he did, it rendered him momentarily speechless.  She was by far one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and judging by the generous curves revealed by her tight-fitting clothing, she wasn’t nearly as young as he had originally thought.