The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella (5 page)

“I would have thought your batman would fetch it for you and deliver it in a golden chalice.”

“That is the most civilized manner of drinking, but alas Samuel—Sam to his friends—bartered my golden chalice for a night in a brothel.”

She stiffened and then told herself he could not possibly know. He was simply listening to himself speak. “Did you join him?”

He shook his head. “I don’t pay for women.” His gaze sharpened. “But this topic of conversation is wildly inappropriate.”

“You did begin it.”

“I did. Forgive me. I forget what it is to be with a respectable lady.”

That was hardly an apt description of her, but she did not correct him.

“Would you mind informing me where I am? Gage and I were walking through the land adjacent to the Friar’s House, but he had to return early, and I assured him I could find my way back. Obviously, I overestimated my abilities.”

“This is my father’s land,” she said. “It’s the southernmost edge, which I believe is adjacent to the land belonging to the Friar’s House. You’ve walked several miles, sir.”

“Don’t
sir
me,” he said, squinting back the way he’d come. “Not in the middle of the woods, when I’m dripping with water and half dead on my feet. Call me Lochley or”—he gave her a wicked grin—“Lochley the Last, if you dare. Not many dare.”

“Very well,
Lochley
.” She would not call him by the ridiculous sobriquet. She would not ask him why it had been given to him either. “Do you need me to escort you back?”

“I’d like to say
no,
but I fear I might spend the night in these woods if I decline your offer.”

“If you give me a moment, I’ll put my boots on.”

He glanced down at her feet. “Of course. There’s no rush. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.”

She sat on the bank and tugged her stocking over her foot, not bothering to pull it up her leg, as she couldn’t very well secure it with a man watching her.

“It’s no imposition. I was wasting the day, at any rate.”

“I hardly call spending the afternoon in a lovely spot like this a waste of a day.”

She paused in the process of tugging her boot on. “I do believe that is the first complimentary statement you’ve made about the country.”

He put his hands on his hips—slim hips that tapered into muscled thighs shown to advantage in the tight trousers. “I’m certain that’s not true.”

“Really? I had the impression you don’t care for the country.”

“Oh, I detest the country. I told Gage he’d gone daft when he told me he’d leased an estate in Hellshawe—excuse me, Hemshawe.”

She laughed. “At times I’m certain Hellshawe is more appropriate.”

He smiled at her. “And here I thought you adored the country.”

She shook out her other stocking and slipped her foot into it. “I prefer the country to London, but that doesn’t mean it has no faults.”

“You have been to London?” he asked.

She looked down at her boots, concentrating far harder than was necessary to secure them. She hadn’t meant to reveal that detail about her life. Finally, she stood and dusted her skirts off. “I have been to London. I didn’t care for it.” Not the city or the people—women or men.

“Perhaps you didn’t spend enough time there.” He offered his arm.

She swept past it. This was not a leisurely stroll through the woods. She was guiding him back to the Friar’s House. That was all.

“I spent enough time there. More time than I wanted, in fact.” She looked over her shoulder and watched him pick his way through the leaves and fallen branches. The storm earlier in the week had littered the ground with debris.

“Then perhaps you did not have a very good guide. If you ever return, I would be happy to show you about the city.”

“I won’t ever return.”

“Not even to visit a good friend?”

She paused and spun around. “Are you implying you are a good friend, sir?”

“You are sir-ing me again.”

“That is because you seem to think we have a more intimate acquaintance than we do. It’s a liberty I will not allow.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his golden eyes resting on her for so long a blush crept up her cheeks. He had truly beautiful eyes. The iris was rimmed with darker brown, which gave him an intense appearance.

“I never supposed you would allow any liberties, nor have I tried to take any. Do I have such a bad reputation that you think me a rake trying to compromise you?”

She could hardly be compromised, but he had a good point. She had twice accused him of attempting seduction, and twice she had been wrong.

“I suppose I do not trust most men.”

“That is a wise policy on the whole. However, you can be assured you may trust me. In fact, from this point forward my sole purpose in life is proving myself worthy of your trust.”

She rolled her eyes and began walking again.

“I am quite serious, you know,” he said, following her.

“You are quite ridiculous.”

“I take my honor very seriously, but of course you cannot know that. You don’t know me.”

She slowed to allow him to catch up. “Then enlighten me, Mr. Lochley—”

“Just Lochley.”

“Enlighten me, Lochley. Who are you?”

“I’m the third son of Viscount Lochley and the third of four children. My eldest brother is the heir, of course, and my next-oldest brother went into the clergy. I am the last son, Lochley the Last.”

She did not believe that was the entire reason for the name.

They walked together now, side by side as the path through the woods was wide and well-trodden. “And so you went into the military. The fourth child is your sister?”

“Lovely young woman. You would like her.”

“Would I?” she asked with some surprise.

“Yes. Everyone does. She has three children, and they adore her. She’s a wonderful mother. My brothers are also leg...married.”

“You are the sole bachelor.” Perhaps that was the reason for the sobriquet?

He lifted a branch so she could pass. “Much to my parents’ dismay. They think if I marry, I will settle down.”

“Are you terribly wild?”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of wild.”

They’d reached a wooden fence, and Lochley paused to study it. “I don’t remember this on my initial trek.”

“You must have gone around it. I’m taking you the short way back.”

“Can’t wait to be rid of me, eh?”

“On the contrary. I rather like hearing about you.” She easily maneuvered over the fence by sitting on the top and swinging her legs over.

“Then I shall continue. Just as soon as I manage this fence.” He began to climb it, then seemed to reconsider and decided to duck and go through it. He couldn’t quite fit, and he had to free himself and step back.

Caro tried not to smile, but he was so completely lost here in the country. Finally, he stepped onto the rung and jumped over, landing unsteadily on his feet.

“That was embarrassing.” He gave the fence a scowl.

“It shall be our secret.”

“Oh, good. I like secrets.” He offered his arm, and she moved to take it, but his words sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

“What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“You like secrets.”

He shrugged. “Who doesn’t like secrets? What do you think I mean?”

“Nothing.” She began walking at a clipped pace.

“Apparently, I’ve offended you again. I seem to have a knack for it,” he called.

She merely continued to walk, wishing they’d reached the Friar’s House already so she might be rid of him. A viscount’s son. What business did she have dreaming about a viscount’s son? She was a gentleman’s daughter, true, but her father was a gentleman only by virtue of owning the land. He was not the sort of gentleman who did nothing all day. He worked hard and dirtied his hands.

“If I tell you a secret, will you slow down?”

She blew out a breath and turned to look at him. She didn’t want to be amused, but he was always making her smile.
Disarming
, that was the word for him.

“I will slow. No need to tell me a secret.” She waited for him to reach her. “Unless you want to.” Why had she added that? She did not want to begin exchanging secrets with him. She had none she would share.

“Are you certain you want to hear this?” he asked when they were walking side by side again.

“No.”

“I’ll tell you anyway.” He lowered his voice and leaned close to her. Even after several hours in the woods, he still smelled of tobacco and bergamot, scents she very much associated with Town. “I hated the cavalry.”

She waited for him to go on, but he didn’t say more. She glanced into his face. He watched her, his expression expectant.

“Don’t most men hate the war?”

“Most, yes, but that’s not what I said. Of course I hated the war. It was awful. Generals sending you to one town and then back to the same one you left. Half the war was traipsing about the countryside. And the food was miserable. I must have lost two stone during the war. It seemed every time we were about to have a decent meal, we’d have to rush off to battle. You can imagine what having the enemy shoot at you does to digestion.”

She laughed. She wasn’t certain if he’d meant to be amusing, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you take anything seriously?”

“A great many things. I took the war seriously. It was a serious pain in my arse. I took my training seriously, but I hadn’t been in the 13
^th
for a fortnight before I knew it wasn’t for me. Most men love the drills and the camaraderie and the flash of the uniform. I found it all pointless.”

“Even the uniform?” She raised a brow.

He pointed a finger at her. “Very well. I did like the uniform.”

“And now you’ve sold out, like Mr. Gage.”

“I sold out before Gage. I wasted no time.”

“And how do you fill your days now? You haven’t a wife.” She paused and glanced at him.

He shook his head.

“You aren’t the heir, and you’ve resigned your commission. Do you have an estate to oversee?”

“My mother has one that came with her dowry. It’s mine when she is gone.”

The roof of the Friar’s House came into view just over the trees ahead of them. “But she is still living.”

“Yes.” He paused, having seen the house as well.

“I suppose that gives you leisure to visit your friend.”

He lowered his gaze from the house and focused it on her. “I had little choice, if you want the truth. My father exiled me from London.”

She drew in a breath. Whatever had he done? She couldn’t ask such an impertinent question. “For how long?”

“As yet undetermined. Until I mend my ways, I suppose.”

“Have you mended them?”

“No.”

He stepped closer, reached out, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She realized she’d forgotten her bonnet at the stream. Her hair must look a fright. Belatedly, she also realized she should step back. She should not allow him to touch her hair or run the side of his hand along her cheek. But she didn’t stop him. If they’d been deep in the woods, if they’d been far from anyone else, she would have. But he’d waited until they stood in the shadow of the house, until they stood in safety.

“I thought I would mend them, and then I met you. You say what’s on your mind. You aren’t afraid to dig in the dirt. You wear the ugliest dresses I have ever seen, and still you hold your head high.”

“This dress isn’t ugly,” she said, looking down at it.

His hand slid around her waist. “It’s hideous, and that makes me want to kiss you all the more.” His lips were but inches from hers. “I should not kiss you.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

He touched his nose lightly to hers. “If I’d mended my ways, I would release you and go my own way. But if I
shouldn’t
kiss you, I want to all the more.”

“You are truly a reprobate,” she whispered, her throat too tight for speech.

“Will you tell me to stop, sweet Caro? Will you order me to unhand you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m just as wicked as you. Perhaps more so.”

“Then we are made for each other.” He brushed his lips over hers in the softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever had. The feel of his mouth on hers tickled and tantalized, and she sighed in pleasure when he applied a tiny bit more pressure and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed every inch of her lips, exploring each corner and every hill and valley.

And then he stepped back, his eyes so very golden in the afternoon light. She wanted to rush again into his arms, but she kept her feet rooted in place. She hadn’t known kissing could be like that, so sweet and light and wonderful. She wanted more.

He took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “And now I must play the gentleman and drive you home.”

She held up a hand.

“I won’t accept a refusal. It would be unforgivable if I made you walk home.”

It would cause far too many questions if he drove her. “It is quite forgivable, as I prefer to walk. I assure you, you have done your gentleman’s deed for the day.” She forced her feet to move and backed away from him.

“Will you be at the little stream again tomorrow?” he asked.

She almost stumbled. “I don’t know. I go there often, but not every day.”

“Perhaps I shall see you there again.”

“Perhaps. You’d have to find it again.”

“There’s the rub. Leave me a trail of bread crumbs to follow, will you?”

She waved and started away. “Good-bye, Mr. Lochley.”

But she smiled all the way back and the entire evening as well.

H
e didn’t know why he’d kissed her. He didn’t like country misses. He didn’t know why he walked in the woods again, why he hoped to see her. He didn’t like country misses.

Except he did like her. He liked her far too much. He liked her in spite of her ugly dresses, her too-often prickly attitude, and the fact that she was a country miss. He’d amused himself at the Friar’s House all day yesterday, resisting the urge to walk in the woods. The rain had convinced him she would not venture to that spot where he’d encountered her anyway.

But this day had dawned clear and dry, and he knew he would go mad—and possibly drive Georgie and Bertie mad as well—if he did not go out.