The Devilish Mr. Danvers Read online

  “Then I am grateful, for your sake, that they are only breaking their journey here for a single night.” Rafe walked over, took his glass, and clinked it against Everhart’s. “To family.”

  Everhart laughed wryly and tipped back the whiskey. “I’m still unsure if the darks looks from her father will lessen or worsen once we tell him about the baby. There is no disguising a premature birth, after all.”

  “Baby?” Rafe stared agape at his friend. “Calliope is . . . ”

  His friend nodded and a look of pride and tenderness showed in the smile that swept over his expression.

  Rafe took the bottle and poured them both another drink. “To your family, Everhart.”

  The first of their set to have a child had been Weatherstone. Then Rafe’s own sister, who’d married Everhart’s cousin. And now Everhart. Soon everything would change, and when they gathered together, it would be to watch their children play in the garden.

  Well . . . their children. Not mine and none with cornflower blue eyes and hair threaded with copper, Rafe reminded himself, unsure why that thought had found its way into his head. Or why, for an instant, he’d imagined such a child among the frolicking brood.

  He downed the second glass, hoping it would help to cool the burning anxiety he’d been carrying with him most of the day. Ever since his encounter with Hedley this morning. “Where do you suppose Montwood is off to?”

  “Valentine informed me that our friend headed off in the direction of Greyson Park some time ago.” A muscle in Everhart’s jaw twitched. It was his tell—and a sign that he was holding something back.

  Did that mean Montwood had expressed an interest in Hedley?

  “Alone?” Rafe asked over the rim of his glass.

  “I believe so. Why? Wasn’t it your intention to prod him into a match with Miss Sinclair?”

  “Of course.” Losing his thirst, he lowered the glass. “You’re saying that as if I’m bothered by it, when—I assure you—the opposite is true. I couldn’t be more delighted. I just don’t want Montwood to need a special license.”

  Everhart laughed heartily. “You do realize you’re saying that about our wagering-cardsharp of a friend, right?”

  “Are you saying he’s not to be trusted?”

  “Aren’t you counting on it? How else do you plan to win?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Rafe spotted Montwood ahead of him on the lane between Fallow Hall and Greyson Park. Hedley was nowhere in sight. Surely she would have accompanied him on the return to the manor in order to dine with them this evening. Unless the blackguard walking this way had upset her or made advances—

  He hastened his steps, stopping just short of a physical collision. “You have spent the afternoon with our neighbor. Alone.”

  “If you are worried about her reputation, I made sure to contain our visit to the park, well within sight of the caretaker’s cottage.” Montwood grinned, his amber eyes glinting beneath the brim of his hat. “You wanted me to court her, didn’t you?”

  Rafe shifted, moving his neck in a way to break the tightness that began at his fists and moved up his arms to his shoulders. “You may court whomever you please. I was merely inquiring as a measure of protection. She is, after all, without family.”

  “That speaks less of protection and more of staking your claim, Danvers.”

  She is mine! A fierce voice inside of him shouted those words again and again, though Rafe didn’t know what had come over him. “Nothing of the sort.”

  Montwood arched a dubious brow. “I am glad. I think when the year is up and the wager is won, I will court her. I am eager to engage in the . . . wooing of Hedley Sinclair.”

  Rafe wasn’t entirely certain how it happened, but one minute he was talking to Montwood, and the next, his friend was flat on his arse with his hat in his lap. And the pain in his own knuckles didn’t bother him a bit.

  Hedley looked around the room that she had cleaned only hours before. Now, it was littered with baskets, flower petals, stems, teacups, and small plates of gingerbread crumbs. And she couldn’t have been happier with any other mess.

  Calliope settled into the corner of the sofa on the cushion beside her. “I hope you don’t mind that we’ve taken over your parlor like a group of marauders. I have no idea how my mother remained sane with all of us beneath the same roof.”

  Before Hedley could answer, Tess chimed in. “My sisters tend to be quite overwhelming.” Even at thirteen years old, the youngest of Calliope’s sisters was a true beauty with wavy, bright golden locks. Sitting on the edge of the rug with her legs tucked beneath her, she contentedly fashioned a tiara of purple flowers as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  “You are simply too young to understand how important our jobs are,” Phoebe, the eldest of the sable-haired twins, said from one of the stiff-backed chairs, before reaching over to tug on one of Tess’s curls. The instant she received a squinty-eyed glare from her younger sister, she grinned, and her brown eyes glinted with mischief.

  Asteria, the twin with blue eyes, nodded as she sipped the last of her tea. “Think of it this way, Tess—if there weren’t matchmakers like us, then society would fall into ruins. Men cannot be trusted to choose wisely and therefore must be guided to the perfect matrimonial candidates.”

  “Quite,” Phoebe agreed. Then, sitting up straighter, she aimed that glinting gaze at Hedley. “Which brings to mind our need to catalog your interests.”

  Asteria sat forward and placed her cup on the low table, all of her considerable attention now on Hedley. “Yes, we must know who is best suited for you.”

  This visit was by far the most pleasant exchange between siblings Hedley had ever experienced. They filled the room with effervescence and warmth. And yet, they were also a lot to take on all at once.

  “I can assure you, dear sisters,” Calliope intervened, “that our new friend already knows her own mind. Perhaps you should concentrate on sorting out the men on your list.”

  Phoebe tapped her finger against the side of her mouth. “Hmm . . . yes, but the only unmarried men in Lincolnshire we know—”

  “Are the gentlemen at Fallow Hall,” Asteria finished for her. The twins exchanged a look. Their dark, wispy brows rose in unison. Then, they leaned in closer and began to chatter.

  Calliope laughed to Hedley. “Do not worry. They are leaving at first light.”

  “Even at the risk of becoming a victim of their plot, I am already sad that they will be leaving so soon,” Hedley admitted.

  Her life with Ursa had had no joy in it. There’d been only cruelty. And until now, Hedley had never witnessed what a family could be like. Nevertheless, she’d always hoped it would be just like this. By Calliope’s tender expression and the hand that reached over and squeezed her own, Hedley knew she understood.

  “If it’s any consolation—although I do not know how it could be,” Calliope said in a teasing tone, “they will break their journey once more on the way back from Brannaleigh Hall. This is the first trip in many years that Father has made to Scotland, and it is important for him to rest each night. Both he and Mother were already sound asleep before we left Fallow Hall. I doubt they will rouse for dinner.”

  “Will you be coming to dinner, Hedley?” Phoebe asked.

  “Not this evening.” Hedley looked from one twin to the other, with both looking back as if their heads were brewing with plans. She nearly shuddered at the level of determination they possessed. She was tired of matchmaking, however, and especially tired of being someone’s plot.

  The giddiness she’d felt yesterday while in Rafe’s arms, after having confronted one of her fears, had faded as the truth settled in. Rafe was certain there was nothing more than desire between them. While she refuted it on her own behalf, she knew very well that she couldn’t force Rafe to feel differently.

  Drawing in a breath, she looked to the twins and decided that an immediate redirection was in order. “I should like to hear all about what it is like to have
a Season. How many gentlemen are pursuing each of you?”

  Calliope gave her a nod and grin as if to say, “Well done.”

  The eldest twin sobered and clasped her hands in her lap. “We have had little success with true candidates.”

  “There was one,” Asteria added, casting a sly sideways glance at her sister. “If you include your persistent suitor, Phoebe.”

  “Lord Nobody is far too old. At least two years older than our brother.” Phoebe tsked and shook her head. “And no manners to speak of. He soiled my best gloves.”

  Asteria leaned forward. “Then, instead of flowers, he sent her gloves the next day.”

  Hedley didn’t understand why the twins appeared scandalized. “That was kind of him to offer reparation.”

  “No. No.” Phoebe’s spine went rigid. “A woman dare not accept such a gift at the risk of openly accepting a gentleman’s pursuit.”

  “And once she does,” Asteria added, “he will cease wooing her at all, believing that the game is done.”

  Calliope clucked her tongue. “Love and marriage are not games.”

  “There are rules one must follow in courtship, aren’t there?” Phoebe asked.

  Asteria nodded with a scholarly expression. “And then each player must move of his or her own accord.”

  “That does sound like a game,” Tess remarked, situating her flower tiara on her head.

  Calliope let out a breath and offered a helpless shrug. “I suppose you are right.”

  Hedley observed this exchange with fascination. Then, taking the gentlemen’s wager into account as well, she was beginning to see things in a new light. This visit was turning into a study of society. Not to mention, helpful insight.

  By accepting that parcel from Rafe, early on, she’d granted him the control of the game that he’d decided to play, and summarily used her as a pawn. His rules. His game. And she was left wondering what to do next.

  But now, it was time to introduce a few of her own rules.

  Tess stood and brushed out her skirts. “Is it true that there is a treasure here at Greyson Park?”

  Hedley smiled at her new friends. “Yes. Right here. The parlor hosts the greatest treasure of all.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The following morning, Hedley walked to Fallow Hall. Loping along the path toward her was Boris. He eagerly greeted her with a woof and a vigorous tail wag. Adjusting the parcel in her grasp, she gave him a good scratch behind his ears.

  The charmer looked up at her with soulful eyes and his tongue lolling, in apparent bliss. “All right, you sly matchmaker,” she said. “If Calliope is right, then you’ll take me directly to either Lucan or Rafe. It doesn’t matter which, as long as I can return this parcel. So lead on.”

  Boris licked the side of her hand before turning off the footpath. With one more woof, he looked back over his shoulder.

  Since the day was bright and green, with new shoots of grass and small flowers sprouting up everywhere, and she had no pressing matters, she followed. Today, she treated herself to wearing one of the dresses that Calliope had sent over yesterday afternoon. The pale pink muslin was light and airy but not threadbare. The tapered style, however, did not allow for longer strides but demure steps instead. Therefore, she’d altered the hem, adding extra piping in vertical segments to accommodate her customary gait.

  Along the walk, white- and pink-blossomed trees dotted the line at the edge of the wood that bordered the two estates. Boris’s ambling took them past Fallow Hall and then the stable yard.

  A narrow path through a blooming orchard kept her too near the fence for her liking. Even though the wooden fence looked to be in good order, she wasn’t certain if it was high enough. She would feel much better if it was built with stone and was as tall as a castle’s keep. Beside her, she heard the unmistakable hollow thumps of a horse’s canter. Clutching her parcel, she kept her gaze straight ahead and continued to follow Boris. Yet even then, she was fully aware of the dark shadow that appeared in her peripheral vision and the slowed hoofbeats on the paddock.

  Her pulse quickened. She could feel the horse drawing near to the edge of the fence. On the other side of her, low branches kept her from skirting farther away. She walked faster. The horse matched her pace. When she slowed, peculiarly the horse slowed too.

  Shaking her head, an incredulous laugh escaped her. “Is that you, Frit?”

  A low whicker was the response.

  Rafe had warned her that she’d made a friend for life after feeding Frit that apple. Did she dare turn and face the animal?

  She stopped and held her breath. After a moment’s deliberation, she turned.

  Indeed, it was Frit. He lifted his head in a way that caused his dark forelock to brush against the white speckled blaze over his nose. She hadn’t taken any time before to acknowledge that he was actually a very pretty horse. If one were inclined to like such beasts. She still wasn’t sure.

  “I don’t have an apple,” she told him, wondering if that was the reason behind his interest.

  He whickered again and tossed his mane with a flick of his head. His round, dark eyes stayed with her, as if he was waiting for something.

  “I don’t know how to whistle either.” Though she gave it another go for good measure. Nope. Nothing but air. Then, with a speculative glance at her companion, she decided to hum the tune that Rafe had whistled the other day.

  To her surprise, Frit bent one foreleg and bowed to her.

  Enchanted, Hedley smiled. And before she even knew what she was doing, she stepped to the fence and lifted her hand. In the next instant, his nose was nestled up against it.

  A moment of shocked stillness followed. And then, dumbfounded and amazed, she stroked him. His coat was smooth and soft beneath her fingers. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. Not only that, but she wasn’t shaking the slightest bit.

  “Do you want to know a secret?”

  Frit snuffed her with his nostrils in response, his long eyelashes drifting down.

  “Out of all the horses in the entire world, I like you best.”

  Soon after, she was on her way again, Boris ahead of her. He’d stopped at the stable yard too, and she wondered if he’d been just as surprised by her actions as she was. She couldn’t wait to tell Rafe. But wait . . . wasn’t she irritated with him?

  That’s right. I am, she thought, suddenly remembering her purpose for coming all this way. After all, she couldn’t let Rafe continue to believe she had no say in her own fate.

  Gradually the path opened into a clearing. A stone hut stood in the center, smoke billowing from the chimney.

  Her steps slowed. Was this a crofter’s cottage? She certainly didn’t want to disturb the caretaker of the estate. Perhaps she should have been more specific in her instructions.

  Boris turned around and sat, staring at her. Then, in the next instant, he tilted his head back and released a howl, loud enough to startle flocks of birds from their nests.

  “I never let anyone watch me work and that includes you, Boris,” Rafe’s voice called from inside the cottage.

  Boris looked at her, and she could have sworn that the flesh above his left eye arched as if in answer to her challenge.

  Hedley walked over to the rough-hewed door and gave it solid knock. “I’m not here to bother you. I’m just leaving a parcel behind. Forget I was ever here.”

  By the time she turned around and took two steps away from cottage, the door opened behind her, banging against the stone façade. She resisted the urge to stop and turn around but kept walking. A clean break. It was better this way.

  “Hedley?”

  She lifted a hand. “I didn’t see a thing. Your secret work is safe.”

  “Hedley,” Rafe growled. “Come back here.”

  Then again, perhaps she should say a few words to let him know why she planned to sever contact. Yet as she turned around, all thought fled.

  Rafe stood in the doorway of the cottage with his shirt sleeves rol
led up to expose the darker skin of his forearms. He wore a heavy black apron tied at his narrow waist that fell to the tops of his scarred boots. He looked so delicious, her teeth ached.

  One of those boots nudged the parcel she’d left on the ground. “What is this?”

  “That”—she pointed—“is nothing. The same nothing that is between us.” At least for him. And soon enough for her. She hoped.

  He crossed those swarthy arms and narrowed his eyes. “You cannot return my reparation.”

  “I’ve recently learned that accepting such a gift, whatever the intention, is quite scandalous in society.” In addition, she refused to allow him to think that he could purchase her cooperation in his scheme to get Montwood to marry her.

  “We are not in society. We are . . . ” His words trailed off, his mouth open as if the answer eluded him.

  “Outside?”

  His glower turned serious. “Did Montwood tell you to return the clothes?”

  Now, she glowered and crossed her arms. “Do you think so little of me as to assume that I cannot make my own decisions?”

  He exhaled audibly, his nostrils flaring. “Come inside.” When she merely stood her ground, he amended the command with “please.”

  Prepared to speak her mind and end her involvement in his scheme, she walked past him. Her will wavered slightly as he shifted his stance, and her sleeve brushed his. Beneath his woodsy, smoky scent, a stronger essence clung to him. It was earthy and . . . male. And it stirred something within her that was quite the opposite of anger.

  Desire. And more.

  Rafe stared down at their almost-touching arms for a few breaths before he withdrew a step. “I need to keep working or I will fracture.” Spoken under his breath, the words came out as little more than a growl.

  She wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear them. Nevertheless, she responded. “I did not intend to disturb or hinder your work.”