The Devilish Mr. Danvers Page 14

  Montwood tsked as he lifted his hand, his index finger ticking back and forth like a metronome. “You cannot issue a new wager until the old one has concluded. And in a year’s time, the only one you’ll have to wager with will be Danvers, because I will be the sole winner.”

  “Au contraire, my friend,” Everhart interrupted, gazing down adoringly at Calliope. “Thus far, I am the sole winner.”

  Calliope slipped her arms around Everhart’s waist, lifting up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, my love, for proving my point.”

  “What was the wager you won?” Hedley asked Everhart. Absently, she recalled Calliope mentioning something last evening about a wager between the gentlemen, but they were distracted before she could finish.

  “It was a wager between three bachelors who’d vowed never to marry,” Montwood answered instead. “And quite obviously, Everhart lost.”

  Calliope narrowed her eyes, but teasingly, at Montwood.

  Hedley frowned, thinking about how this very house had changed hands. “I hope you are not saying that you forced a marriage upon Everhart and Calliope solely to win a wager.”

  “Sadly, I cannot take credit.” Montwood dramatized a sigh. “The truth is, Everhart tightened his own noose willingly, and rather quickly, too.”

  “Which leaves only you and Danvers, pitted against one another,” Everhart said with a grin.

  Hedley looked from one man to the other, dread pressing on her as if she were beneath the piano instead of beside it.

  “Everhart wants to ensure we are all married by year’s end so he won’t have to pay out ten thousand pounds,” Montwood explained, studying her carefully, as if he was waiting for her understanding. “Of course, Danvers and I are plotting against each other as well, which will leave a single victor all the spoils.”

  Hedley caught on too quickly. “Pitted against each other. That means Rafe is attempting to marry you off . . . ” To me, she thought but couldn’t say the words aloud. A sharp stab of anger and hurt pierced her. She was being used.

  “If it’s any consolation, he has chosen his bait quite well,” Montwood said, his voice quiet and sincere.

  Hedley rose from the piano bench.

  She met Calliope’s distressed gaze. “I’m certain Montwood is wrong,” her friend said. “I’m sorry Montwood, but I don’t believe Danvers is capable of such a scheme. He wouldn’t use Hedley that way.”

  Montwood didn’t reply. Both he, and now Hedley, knew better.

  “Mr. Danvers has already declared that he would do anything to secure Greyson Park,” Hedley offered, her voice surprisingly calm. Especially when she felt capable of murder at the moment. “Where do you suppose I might find him?”

  Rafe watched Frit roaming the meadow beyond the stable yard and felt a pang of envy. His horse had a simple existence. The stallion’s day consisted of life’s basic pleasures—food, a clean stall, exercise, and a rubdown. He wasn’t forcing himself to stay out of doors in order for a ludicrous plot to form. He didn’t have this raw, twisted knot in his stomach at the thought of Montwood and Hedley together. He wasn’t plagued by jealousy. No, Frit was simply happy to nibble on new grass shoots.

  Then again, if Frit’s stall were next to a wide-eyed mare that had turned his world completely upside down, he wouldn’t be out in the meadow, leaving Montwood’s stallion, Quicksilver, alone with her.

  Rafe blew out a frustrated breath. Marrying Hedley off to Montwood was the perfect plan. Wasn’t it?

  And Montwood already seemed taken with her, and she him.

  Damn it all.

  Rafe pushed away from the tree, whistled for Frit, and walked toward the stables, knowing his horse would follow.

  Rounding the corner, he never expected to see Hedley coming straight for him. Instantly, he held out his hand. “Hedley, stop.” It was a harsh command but one meant to protect her.

  Looking over his shoulder and past a hedgerow, he saw Frit trotting across the meadow. Quickly, he whistled the halt command. However, since he’d never made such an order without being on Frit’s back, he wasn’t certain the horse would understand.

  “You warned me time and again, Rafe Danvers.” Paying no heed, Hedley strode forward, her hands balled into fists, her teeth clenched. “But I never once imagined that you would use me as the coin to purchase Greyson Park.”

  Rafe shook his head and extended his arms, palms facing her. “Now isn’t the time for this—”

  “If you want Montwood to marry in order for you to win your wager, then you will have to look for another convenient neighbor.”

  “Hedley, stop—”

  “No. You will not stop me. I’m tired of being invisible. All my life I have been nothing.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes. “Does my existence mean so little to you? In the end, when your plot doesn’t work, will you try to lock me away as well?”

  He recoiled. “You’re comparing me to your family?”

  “Right now there is little difference. You act as if I mean nothing to you.”

  “I have been honest—”

  She scoffed and threw her hands in the air.

  “All right, not entirely honest,” he amended. “But I was up front about my pursuit of Greyson Park from the beginning.”

  Hedley opened her mouth to respond and then suddenly went silent. Her eyes rounded in terror. The color drained from her cheeks, and her lips parted.

  Rafe reached for her automatically, taking her by the shoulders. “Look at me, Hedley.” Then, when she didn’t respond, he tried again. “Sweeting, look at me. Yes. That’s right. Only me. Keep your eyes on mine. Good.”

  Beneath his hands, her body trembled. She emitted no heat, and she wasn’t breathing.

  “It’s only Frit. You’ve met him before. You know he won’t hurt you. He’s trained by the sound of my whistle, remember?”

  She kept her gaze locked on his, and it seemed to take an eternity for his words to filter through. But when they did, her head moved in an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Take a breath, sweeting.”

  She did.

  He took a breath too. “Good. You’re doing splendidly. Now, lift your hands and place them on my chest. I’m going to pull you closer to warm you.”

  The rhythmic plod of Frit’s slow gait came closer.

  “Rafe . . . ” she rasped.

  “Just keep looking at me. I won’t let anything happen.” When he wasn’t met with a look of reassurance, he thought of an idea. “I’ll prove it. Frit knows a special trick. When I whistle, he’ll kneel down on one foreleg and bow to you.”

  Without delay, he whistled. From the corner of his eye, he saw Frit’s head dip and heard him whicker with pride. “See? He listens quite well.”

  For an instant, she nodded and started to relax. But then Frit stood and drew closer, nudging Rafe’s shoulder.

  “What is he doing? Why is he coming closer?”

  Damn. Rafe had forgotten the apple. But his horse had not. “I have an apple in my pocket, and he knows he deserves a treat for listening to my commands. All I need to do is reach inside and—”

  She shook her head. “Don’t let go of me, Rafe.”

  “I won’t.” He pulled her closer. He would pull her inside of him and keep her safe for the rest of her days if he could. “If you reach into my pocket, you can simply drop it, and then Frit will roam over to the stables to find a drink of water.”

  Slowly, she lowered her hands from his chest and moved them down until she found the fruit in the pocket of his coat. Unfortunately, Frit had found it as well. Eager for his treat, he dipped his head to take it from her hand.

  Hedley jerked her hand away, pulling it back within the protected space between them. The apple was still in her grasp.

  Before Rafe could warn her that Frit was no fool when it came to apples, his horse lifted his head and pressed his nose to the top of Rafe’s shoulder.

  In an unexpected display of bravery, Hedley li
fted her shaking hand. Eyes still locked on Rafe’s, she stammered, “H-here i-i-is your-r-r apple.”

  Frit wasted no time and snatched it up. But before he left, he then pressed his nose against Hedley’s hand and snuffed her affectionately.

  She glanced down to her hand, eyes wide, as if to make sure it was still attached. As Rafe had promised, Frit wandered away in search of water. And Hedley relaxed beneath his hands.

  “There now. You were absolutely marvelous.” Rafe had never known such pride or relief. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close and spun her in a circle. “You fed Frit an apple. Unbelievable! You know what this means, don’t you. You did it, Hedley. You’ve met your fear head on.”

  “I fed a horse an apple,” she said in apparent disbelief. Then, she blinked and her pupils widened. “I fed a horse an apple.”

  “I know,” he said on a breath, so damn happy that he didn’t know what to do with himself. So he spun her around once more. “You’ll have a friend for life now. Frit gave you his approval.”

  “His nose was wet. He touched my hand with his nose.” Gradually, her stunned expression transformed into a smile.

  Rafe’s heart pounded in a peculiar manner. It seemed to turn to jelly, all squishy and quivering. Words were lost on him as he stared down into her face. His reflection in her eyes was upside down. And that was exactly how he felt.

  Hedley tilted her head, studying him closely. “Something is different in your gaze.”

  He stilled. “You are mistaken.”

  Her hands spread over his chest, no doubt detecting the odd cadence from within. She was too perceptive by half. “You say there is nothing between us. Nothing more than Greyson Park. Not when you kissed me. Not when you held me. Not even now. Does this truly feel like nothing?”

  “There is desire,” he answered, giving her a portion of honesty. “I find you desirable. Your guilelessness is the most powerful aphrodisiac I’ve ever encountered. And what you feel for me is nothing more than the same. I am merely the first man you’ve responded to—there will be others. Someday, you may marry one of them.”

  Her soft laugh caressed his lips, tempting him. “I’ve spent all my life watching people from a distance, studying the language of their expressions and actions. There is something between us, Rafe, whether you admit it or not. I can feel it vibrating beneath your skin. I can see it in your gaze.”

  “Whatever we have is fleeting.” And to cement the point, he dropped his arms from her and took a step back. Yet already he ached to hold her again. Even with this small separation, his skin, his muscles, and his bones all throbbed in near agony.

  She drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Then I am glad. I would not want either of us to feel this way forever.”

  Then she turned on her heel and left.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Hedley returned to Greyson Park that afternoon, she soon learned that she wasn’t the only one who’d suffered damage while she’d been away. Another large hunk of plaster had fallen from the hole in the parlor ceiling. And the broken window in the upstairs bedroom at the far corner had suffered another crack. Of course, the manor’s damage had occurred during the storm last night. Hers had happened this morning and centered on her heart.

  She knew very well that feeling the security of Rafe’s arms around her had been instrumental in facing one of her fears. But what surprised her the most was how powerful she’d felt after surviving the encounter with his horse. She’d felt sure of herself. Confident. And unwilling to hold her tongue a moment longer.

  Confessing to Rafe that she knew there was something between them had been exhilarating. Seeing his stark reaction, however, had compelled her not to tell him everything she felt.

  Likely, he wouldn’t appreciate hearing her admit to believing herself in love with him. Since she’d never been in love before, it was difficult to be certain. And yet, she was certain.

  She loved Rafe. The feeling inside her was more than the peculiar slushy beats of her heart. More than how content she felt in his arms. More than the thrill of seeing him without his clothes . . . which was saying a great deal.

  It was because he knew her secrets and darkest fears and had never once looked at her as if she were mad.

  And now she knew that she wanted to live the rest of her life making sure all of his dreams came true . . . which brought her thoughts directly back to Greyson Park.

  Looking around the parlor at the mess of horsehair plaster on the floor, she sighed. Why did Rafe want this house? He wanted it so badly, in fact, that he was willing to barter for it as if she were the coin and Montwood were the buyer. Now that she did not love about Rafe. Granted, he certainly was determined.

  But so was she.

  After changing back into her ill-fitting, threadbare clothes, she began to clean up the mess. Once she finished sweeping out the parlor and removing the shards of glass from the bedroom, she checked on Mr. Tims. His rheumatism had kept him abed for the past week. While she was in his cottage, she made him a pot of tea and swept his floors as well.

  When she returned to Greyson Park, she was surprised to find Montwood waiting. He wore a gray frock coat trimmed in black and stood with his arms clasped behind his back, facing the front door. He must have heard her on the path, because he turned.

  “Ah, there you are. And back to the old way of things, I see.” Beneath his black hat, his dark brows lifted as his gaze looked over her clothes. “It is a rare woman, indeed, who would cast aside a new wardrobe for the old.”

  Grinning, she reached down and plucked at her skirt as she curtsied. “I hate to disappoint you, Montwood, but I am not as rare as you think. I would much prefer new clothes, but even more, I would not wish to ruin them as I cleaned.”

  “You are rarer than you think,” he said with a bow and a charming smile. “In many ways.”

  Hedley eyed her new friend with speculation. “Surely you haven’t come all this way to pay me a compliment.”

  “And clever too,” he said, gesturing with his open hand to the unkempt lawn. “Would you care to walk with me? Since you have no chaperone, we’ll keep to the open park between your fine house and Fallow Hall. We must be on constant guard of your reputation, you know.”

  She scoffed but walked beside him nonetheless. “Yes, the reputation of a madwoman is precious, indeed. Never mind the simple fact that I don’t intend to marry.”

  “Not marry? And deprive a fortunate man years of wedded bliss?”

  “So you are here solely to pay me compliments,” she teased but then turned serious. There was no reason not to be forthcoming with Montwood. “The truth is, if I marry, I will lose Greyson Park, and it will revert back to my family.”

  He nodded, apparently not surprised. “And have you told Danvers this as well?”

  “No, but I suspect he knows.” Hedley sighed, the weight of disappointment and confusion pressing on her. “The suspicion began this morning, when I learned of your wager. Although knowing that he’d spent time in London and had contacted the solicitor to verify my claim of ownership, I should have presumed as much.”

  “He is quite determined to see us married.” Montwood stopped and lifted her hand to his lips, his amber eyes shaded beneath the brim of his hat. “What do you say? Shall we run away together to spite him?”

  Hedley didn’t take him seriously. “You would lose a fortune.”

  He shrugged. “Fortunes come and go easily through these fingers. I would find a way to make another.”

  “Another flaw in your argument is the fact that Rafe would not be vexed in the least. In fact, he would be quite glad to gain ten thousand pounds and Greyson Park.”

  “For a time, perhaps. Men are notoriously slow at catching on to these things.”

  Sensing that Montwood’s manipulations were not solely restricted to piano keys, she directed the conversation back to where they had begun. “Tell me the real reason you decided to visit me this afternoon.”

  Montwood lau
ghed and resumed walking until they were directly in line with the break in the trees that revealed Fallow Hall in the distance.

  “We are two halves of the same coin, Hedley. We both see things that others believe they’ve hidden. Your way is to confront, openly and honestly, while mine is . . . well, let’s just say that I’m the side of the coin always facing down.” But he made no apologies for his nature. “The truth is, I’m running away from Fallow Hall.”

  She laughed at his sincerity. “Why ever for?”

  “Two plagues have descended on that house.” He trembled mockingly. “And their names are Phoebe and Asteria Croft.”

  “Calliope’s sisters? How lovely.” Hedley smiled until she saw Montwood shake his head in earnest. “Why have you felt a need to escape them?”

  “They believe themselves to be matchmakers when they actually are meddlesome tyrants—” He broke off and cleared his throat, likely because of Hedley’s disapproving glower. “They will not rest until every gentleman they encounter is scrutinized, put on a list, and then summarily compared to a similar list of young women. Within five minutes of their arrival, they’d already chosen three potential brides for me.”

  Hedley looked through the trees once again and felt a twisted sort of dark pleasure fill her. “And do you think they are torturing Rafe right this minute?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  Rafe ducked out of the hall and into the map room the moment he glimpsed the sable coiffure of one of the Croft twins. Where there was one, there was bound to be the other. Thankfully, he didn’t believe he’d been spotted.

  “Quick, man! Up here!” Everhart leaned over the loft railing, holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other. “Lock the door.”

  “You’re not supposed to run from your own relatives,” Rafe chided when he reached the top of the circular staircase.

  Beyond a short row of bookcases, Everhart stood beside the large map table, already pouring the amber liquid. “You can lecture me all you like once you’ve married your wife by special license—after being the one who’d not only broken her heart but caused her to swear off marriage for five years. I still believe her father plans to murder me in my sleep. The right cross on that man would astound you.”