Never Fall for your Fiancée, page 10
“I pretend to listen to them. It’s one of my few talents. I can appear completely engrossed in a conversation whilst avoiding hearing any of it at all. My tenants think I listen to them. Payne thinks I listen to him and you wrongly assume I’m listening to you now, when in reality, all I am thinking about is lunch. You see? As shallow as a puddle. Here you are, trying to have a meaningful conversation, and all I can think about is myself.”
Something told her he thought about everyone, which was an admirable trait. It made no sense he would try to deny it. “Yet your estate is thriving— largely thanks to all the modern farming techniques you have implemented. I’ve seen all the new books on the subject in the library. And they have been read.”
“Not by me.”
“Payne says you are a better landlord than even your father was, and everybody apparently loved him, too. He says despite your best efforts to the contrary, you are actually very much like your father. Peas in a pod, in fact. Is that true? You’ve never really mentioned him.”
Something suspiciously like despair skittered briefly across his features before he masked it with dismissal. “What is there to mention? Like you I was young when he died. Talking about him only makes me feel maudlin, and why would I want to be intentionally maudlin?” He nudged his horse to trot a little beyond hers and then pointed to the bustling market square as he blatantly avoided her question. Too blatantly. “Ah— look. I see Giles’s horse tied up over there. The others shouldn’t be too far away, or they better not be. I’m starving.”
Clearly she had hit a raw nerve, as he didn’t wait for her, leaving Minerva to navigate the cobbles and a few pedestrians all by herself, something that took more concentration than keeping her horse walking in a straight line.
By the time she reached the inn, Hugh had dismounted and handed his horse over to a groom. He shook his head and huffed out a withering sigh as he grabbed her horse’s halter. “That was barely ten yards. What kept you?” Another groom rushed forward with the block, and Hugh waved him away. “Believe me, it will only end in catastrophe. I’ll help the lady down.” He held out his arms. “Give those white knuckles a rest and let go of the reins, Minerva.”
Reluctantly, she did and clumsily gripped his shoulders. They felt reassuringly solid and disconcertingly wonderful . . . and she really needed to stop thinking nonsense like that about a man who was paying her to do a job.
In case he noticed the odd effect he had on her, and because it seemed like the quickest way off the beast, she lunged toward him, realizing too late that she should have taken her stupid foot out of the stirrup first. As it twisted, Marigold stepped sideways to escape her flailing, and the ground loomed.
“I’ve got you!”
Mortifyingly, he did. His strong arms were wrapped tight around her ribs as she hung suspended above the ground. Her foot still tangled in the stirrup, and her face sprawled against his chest as he engulfed her, her breasts scandalously flattened against his stomach. Minerva could do nothing but cling to him, inhaling his fresh, clean, manly scent as the groom wrestled her foot out of its stirrup prison, then suffer the indignity of having Hugh haul her upright in the intimate cage of his arms the second it was free.
For a long moment they stood pressed together, something that her body seemed to enjoy far more than it should, until he abruptly broke the contact, holding her at an appalled arm’s length as he blinked down at her.
“Good grief, woman! When I held out my arms, I didn’t expect you to launch yourself into them at that second. You might have given me some warning you were about to take flight. You’d have flattened a lesser man.”
“I am so sorry. I did warn you I was clumsy.” The collar and lapels of his coat were awry. They gave her wayward fingers an excuse to touch him as she straightened them, and then their eyes locked.
And held.
As if they had a mind of their own, her palms smoothed his lapels flat, and beneath them she felt his heart beating. Sure and steady but as rapidly as hers. In that second, she realized the heady, magnetic, dangerous pull she felt wasn’t one-sided. He felt it, too.
Why didn’t that worry her? When her attraction to him wasn’t wise?
She watched his eyes drop to her lips before slowly returning to hers in question, felt her body leaning to meet his . . .
“Hugh?” Beneath her fingers, Minerva felt the muscles in Hugh’s shoulders tense the second he heard the other voice, and he instantly stepped back. “I thought it was you!”
His head whipped around to face a very beautiful blond-haired woman on the arm of a very dashing-looking man, and he smiled. It was an odd smile. A strained one. One that never touched his eyes. “Sarah . . . Captain Peters . . . hello . . . You are back, then?”
“Only temporarily. Teddy has leave and we won’t rejoin his regiment till January.” If the blond woman was aware of Hugh’s discomfort, she didn’t show it. She beamed at him. “But the best news is the regiment is returning to Aldershot in the New Year, so we’ll be permanently stationed in Hampshire and much closer to home. Mother is thrilled.” Hugh looked the exact opposite despite his rigid smile. “She’s missed spoiling her grandchildren.”
“That is excellent news.” He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. To stop fidgeting, he clamped them behind his back. “Excellent.” She had never seen him so awkward. “I trust your mother is well?”
“Indeed she is. We are all in fine fettle.”
“Excellent.” That single word was like a nervous tic. What was it about this woman that made the normally confident Hugh so stilted and uncomfortable? Unless her reckless lapel smoothing had started it? That had been a mistake that she should be grateful had been interrupted— but wasn’t.
“How are you? It’s been . . . what? Two years since we last collided?” The blonde’s eyes flicked to Minerva with curiosity. “Are you still the merry bachelor about town?”
His eyes finally stopped staring at the blonde to find hers, and that seemed to shake him out of whatever odd place he had gone to. For a moment he seem horrified she was still beside him, then he winced. Minerva had no earthly idea if he was wincing because of her— or the situation.
“Good gracious, where are my manners?” He grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his arm, his hand resting on it possessively— or perhaps he was clinging to it desperately to prove a point? “Allow me to introduce you to my fiancée. Minerva, this is Mrs. Sarah Peters and her husband, Captain Peters. This is Miss Minerva . . .” He stared at her blankly as if he had forgotten the new alias he had given her.
“Landridge.” She politely inclined her head as Payne had taught her to do with others of a similar rank. Curtsies were for nobles only. The more noble the noble, the deeper the curtsey. Look them in the eye. Smile. Act nonchalant. No mean feat when her mind was whirring. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain and Mrs. Peters.”
Now the blond woman who had tied her fake fiancé’s tongue was looking her up and down with interest, and for some reason everything about her, and most importantly the effect she had on Hugh, seemed to grate. Minerva snuggled closer to him as if she were besotted rather than inappropriately flustered by his shoulders and their oddly charged moment before this vixen interrupted it. “We have been engaged these past eighteen months.” And she didn’t care if she sounded proprietary. Fiancées were supposed to be possessive. It was merely part of the act.
“I must have missed the announcement in The Times.”
“There was no announcement.” Finally Hugh seemed to have found his voice. “We’ve managed to keep it quiet. Minerva didn’t want a fuss and she’s not really one for London society. We met out of town when . . .” He was floundering again. Badly.
“He rescued me from a runaway carriage.” She gazed up at him with what she hoped was adoration rather than what felt alarmingly like the sudden onset of jealousy. “And more recently an uncooperative sidesaddle.” A mishap this graceful and beautiful creature had probably witnessed— alongside the wholly inappropriate and unguarded lapel smoothing. Although now that she thought Minerva was Hugh’s fiancée, that was probably a good thing. Fiancées were allowed to smooth lapels, and she could use it as a believable excuse later if Hugh brought it up, a prospect that already had her toes curling inside her smart new riding boots. Minerva beamed to cover her mortification and tried to remember she was playing a character. “Hugh is my constant knight in shining armor. I would be thoroughly lost without him.”
The awkward silence that followed was dreadful, largely because Minerva got the distinct impression she was the only person out of the four of them who had no idea why it was awkward.
Hugh’s hand was gripping hers like a drowning man on a piece of driftwood in high seas. Captain Peters was yet to say a word, and his too-pretty wife had pasted a smile on her face that was as false as Minerva’s lies.
“How is your mother, Hugh? Is she enjoying life in America?”
“Very much.”
“It’s so brave of her to have moved across the world.”
“You know my mother.” Something Mrs. Peters clearly did. “She is made of stern stuff.” Beneath his sleeve, his forearm had gone quite rigid. Minerva could sense that he wanted to escape. Just as she could sense Hugh and the pretty Mrs. Peters had a past. One she fully intended to get to the bottom of once she got him alone.
“Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you both, but alas we must away.” She squeezed his arm and felt some of the tension ease. “My mother, sisters, and Lord Bellingham are loose in the market and I fear for his sanity if we leave him alone with them for too long.”
“Yes . . . poor Giles.” Hugh bowed politely. “Do send my regards to your mother.”
“And send mine to yours.” A delicate, gloved hand lightly touched Minerva’s arm. “It was lovely to meet you, too, Miss Landridge. I am so glad Hugh is finally settling down. Seeing as you are not fond of town, perhaps you can convince him to reside more frequently here in Hampshire? Then I could call upon you both . . .” Lovely blue eyes locked with Hugh’s. Minerva couldn’t read the stark message in them. “I believe I should like that a great deal.”
Chapter Ten
Hugh hated the past creeping up on him unawares. He hated more that it happened in front of Minerva. As they walked aimlessly around the market with the others, he had felt her eyes on him as all those distressing buried memories came unbidden to the fore.
He could still feel them on him, despite purposefully placing Vee on the chair between them in the inn’s dining room and largely ignoring Minerva throughout the meal. Over a decade on, and it still hurt as much to see Sarah as it had that first time. Instantly, he was that heartbroken and floundering boy again. Lost and anchorless as his whole world and everything it was built on crumbled around him. He had smothered it with false politeness just as he always did, but Minerva wasn’t stupid. She knew something had been amiss. He’d been on tenterhooks the entire meal hoping she didn’t ask outright in front of everyone. What was the best way to explain away Sarah without admitting how much her very existence pained him? An hour on, and he was still at a loss.
Therefore, he decided to tactically avoid the questions. However, avoiding them was easier said than done when the group was ensconced in the inn’s private dining room, where there were no other distractions to explain his uncharacteristic lack of conversation.
But there was no getting away from the fact her unexpected appearance had caught him completely off guard and had destroyed his good mood— a mood that had begun to deteriorate when Minerva started comparing him to his father, sending his thoughts scattering to all the dark places he avoided like the plague. That had been before she’d thrown herself in his arms, smoothed her palms over his chest, and sent his body hurtling into a different and entirely unwanted direction, too. Now his emotions were all over the place and much too close to the surface. So much so, he was barely keeping them in check.
“Are you sure you don’t want some wine, ladies?” Giles held the bottle up, ready to pour. “It’s very good.”
“Neither I nor my girls would ever touch the demon drink, Lord Bellingham.” Lucretia frowned when Diana held out her glass rebelliously, so instead, the mad actress turned to Vee. “Keep your elbows off the table, dear.” She had been giving the girl motherly pointers all day and seemed oblivious to the youngest Merriwell’s increasingly bubbling hostility. To her credit, Vee hadn’t retaliated. She had ignored all the cloying fake mothering through gritted teeth while she still used all the wrong cutlery. “Tables are for plates not for elbows.”
“The plates have been cleared.” If looks could kill, then Vee’s was in danger of bludgeoning the actress to death.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minerva’s hand pat her sister’s leg beneath the table, and reluctantly the elbows were removed. “Are you looking forward to the ride back, Vee? You looked like a natural horsewoman born in the saddle.”
“Oh, she is!” said Lucretia, clutching her bosom dramatically. “It was poetry in motion.” Vee blossomed at the compliment. “She takes after me on that score.” Then fresh daggers shot out of the young girl’s eyes. “I’ve always had a way with horses.”
“Well, thankfully she doesn’t take after me.” Minerva was like a diplomat overseeing a tense treaty. “I think we can all agree my horsemanship was a disaster.” Her eyes sought his for support. “As Hugh will attest, I couldn’t get off or on without incident.”
“True.” Sensing she wanted more than a nod, he choked out the longest sentence he had managed in over an hour. “She practically flattened me on the dismount.” His nose had been in her hair. She had smelled of roses. He had felt the soft press of her breasts against his rib cage. The sultry curve of her hips beneath his hands. Had almost succumbed and kissed her in the intoxicating heat of the moment. Was it any wonder he hadn’t seen Sarah until it was too late to escape?
“I did warn you I was uncoordinated.”
“If it’s any consolation, what you lacked in coordination, you more than made up for in entertainment. Watching you in the paddock gave me my first thorough belly laugh of the morning.” Giles toasted her with his tankard. “I’m devastated I missed the dismount. It sounds magnificent.”
Hugh wasn’t devastated. It was bad enough Minerva had had to witness the stilted meeting with Sarah. Thank goodness nobody else had. The very last thing he needed was Giles sticking his intuitive nose in and laying all his sordid past secrets bare.
“It will be better next time. I hope. Now that I know one needs to release the foot from the stirrup before vacating the saddle. Although I think my riding improved toward the end— before the catastrophic dismount.”
Her eyes sought his again for affirmation, and Hugh nodded while struggling to smile. It felt false on his face. Damn Sarah for opening old wounds when he had enough on his plate already. “Much improved. By the end you showed genuine shoots of coordination.”
“Only shoots?” Her mock despair made her youngest sister smile. “Oh dear. And I thought I was doing so well.”
“It’s a mystery why you are so uncoordinated, Minerva.” Lucretia was fully immersed in Mrs. Landridge. Her eyes had gone predictably misty, signaling another heartfelt, fabricated recollection from the past she had created inside her theatrical, baffling, slightly scary mind. “Her father, God rest him, had a fine seat. We used to ride together every day when we were first married . . . before the children, of course . . .” Her hand sneaked across the table, grabbed Vee’s. Squeezed. “I miss your dear papa so dreadfully! Why did he have to die?”
Vee’s tenuous hold on her emotions finally collapsed, and she shot up like a firework, angry tears already leaking from her eyes and her chair falling noisily backward in the process. “He’s not dead! Stop talking about him as if you knew him!” Her palms slammed down on the table, knocking over two thankfully empty cups, then she stormed out of the room.
“Vee!” Minerva was out of her seat just as fast. Then she, too, bolted, no doubt to placate her sullen sister yet again until the next immature tantrum exploded.
“Did I go too far?” Lucretia seemed stunned by the outburst.
“I think we galloped past far about an hour ago.” Diana stood and tossed her napkin on the table. “I suppose I’d better go and support Minerva. She mollycoddles Vee far too much otherwise.” She stomped out, leaving Hugh with his evil best friend and the contrite, blinking actress.
“Well, this is all going swimmingly.” Giles toasted Hugh with his tankard again. “I predicted a total shambles and now my prediction has come true.”
“Enough.”
“But at least I am right and I do so love to be right.”
“Should I go and apologize, do you think?” The actress was wringing her hands.
“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt.” His friend patted Lucretia’s arm. “Although if I might be so bold, you might consider allowing Lucretia to do the apologizing and retire Mrs. Landridge for the rest of the day.”
She nodded. “If you think that’s best.”
“I do. And on your way out, can you ask the maid to bring in some more of that cake? I’m still a little peckish.” Giles waited for her to leave the room, then shuffled over a few chairs to sit in the one dead opposite. “I hate to labor my point, old boy, but you really do need to send Vee home. She’s going to ruin everything before the best of the fun has started.”
“I can’t. There is nobody there to send her to.”
“Then give her a maid, or hire the chit a governess if it makes you feel better, and dispatch her on a little sojourn to the coast for the duration. I’m sure she’ll be delighted. She’s in over her head, Hugh.”
“I’ll talk to Minerva.”
“Yes. That’s the answer. Ask Minerva’s opinion and then suffer the inevitable consequences when she says no. Even Diana concedes she mollycoddles the girl too much.” Giles paused and masked his frustration while the maid hurried in, bobbed a curtsey, and deposited a huge slice of cake in front of him. Only when she was gone did he resume. “Open your eyes, man! As much as it pains me to say it, with Minerva, Diana, and that bedlamite, Lucretia, there is the minutest chance you might just pull your ridiculous plan off. But currently Minerva is directing too much of her energy to placating the child. Vee seems to come first, last, and always in her eyes.”
