A Dance of Manners Read online

  She got no relief when a short time later, the guests adjourned to the gaming room for several rubbers of whist. Luckily, she had played bridge and could adjust to this earlier game. Unluckily, Simon Alcott was her partner. Lady Felice and her doting father rounded out their table. She couldn't have asked for worse company, with the father's penetrating stare and the girl chattering on about the many events at which Andrew had been her partner. Like she wanted to know that.

  Finally, to change the subject, and because men were always ready to discuss war and politics, she asked, “How do you think England would fare if she didn't have mastery of the seas? Would Napoleon dare to invade?”

  All three of them stared at her as if she'd just grown another head. Felice sniffed. “How dreadfully American, Papa.”

  “Yes, dear,” her father said as he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Ashley. “I believe Admiral Jervis already answered that question in the House of Lords. Ladies of Quality leave such matters to their men.”

  Ashley was tempted to give an unladylike snort, but thought better of it. After all, she didn't know how long she would be here before she could find those white-liveried servants again. “That may be true, sir, but indulge me. What did the admiral say?” She had no recollection of what it might have been, but any conversation that didn't involve Felice and Andrew was good.

  Southbury straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “He said that the French may come, but they will not come by sea.”

  “Ah. Of course. And Lord Nelson had a tremendous victory at Trafalgar—”

  The butler rang his silver bell, announcing that the midnight repast was ready. Relieved by the interruption, she stood, only to have Simon pop up beside her, offering his arm.

  She didn't take it. “If you don't mind, I believe I'll skip the food, delicious as I am sure it is. I've got a bit of a headache.” She didn't wait for a response as she headed for the hallway door. The one thing she needed was fresh air.

  Outside, the cool air refreshed her after the crush of bodies in the gaming room. Stars sparkled like tiny diamonds in a black velvet sky. No smog or pollution to contend with in an 1811 countryside. She inhaled deeply and walked toward the gazebo.

  The stillness was just what she needed to think. She had heard plans earlier about a hunt tomorrow. She knew how to ride; she would have to make sure she got included. Then, if she lagged behind, no one would notice if she eventually rode off in another direction. It would give her time to search and maybe ask some of the crofters if they'd seen a team of four white horses pass by yesterday. If no one had, she'd still be back at the duke's stables before anyone raised an alarm. It might not be the best plan, but it was all she could think of.

  And where was Andrew? It was strange how she missed him, having just met him. How warm and sensual his touch had been compared to Simon's. And when Andrew had looked deeply into her eyes, her body started to flutter in strange places. Well, maybe not so strange. But dh had never kindled such a heated fire in her by just a soulful look. And Simon certainly didn't with all his flowery phrases.

  As though she had conjured him with her thoughts, he spoke from the darkness.

  “I was hoping to find you out here,” Simon said as he stepped into the gazebo and came toward her.

  “The noise and stuffiness inside were getting to me,” she said, “and I would really like to be alone, if you don't mind.”

  He ignored that and sat down on the bench beside her. He traced the side of her cheek with his fingers. “I like being alone with you,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss her.

  She jumped up, but before she could get to the step, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. “You do not have to play coy with me, Miss Bouvier. Lots of divorcées are lusty.”

  “I'm not lusty.” She tried to pull away, but he was stronger and drew her closer. She wondered if anyone would hear her scream. Probably not with the music.

  As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled. “We are safe here from prying eyes ... or maybe you would like to take that walk to the rose bushes I mentioned? We would have even more privacy.” His fingers pushed the neckline of dress down and he pinched a nipple hard.

  “Stop it! Let me go!” Ashley pushed at him, but he only tightened his other arm around her waist.

  “Not until I get a kiss,” he said and brought his hand to cup her chin roughly. “You are no innocent young girl; I saw what liberties you allowed Tiverton to take with you on the dance floor last night. All I am asking for is a little of what you offered him.”

  “I didn't—” Ashley didn't get to finish, for he moved his thumb and middle finger to her jaw and pressed hard, forcing her mouth open. He stuck his tongue inside as he rubbed his erection against her.

  Survival instinct surged within her. She bit down hard on his tongue, causing him to yelp and then she kicked his shin, thankful for the half-boots she'd decided to wear instead of slippers. He stumbled back a step and she brought her knee up and connected with his groin. He grunted as he bent over, and she finished with a hard elbow jab to the side of his head. Then she hiked her skirts and ran as though the hounds from Hell were on her heels.

  “You bitch!” Simon called feebly. “You shall pay for this!”

  She ignored him and kept running, stopping when she finally reached the terrace. She glanced over her shoulder, but Simon hadn't pursued her. It would serve him right if she'd done substantial damage. God, she felt filthy. His hand pawing her breast, his tongue vulgarly suggesting what he meant to do. But how close a friend was he to the duke? Would there be recriminations for her? She was a guest—and a foreigner—and she'd just assaulted a son of a marquis.

  She took a deep breath and tried to arrange her hair. All she had to do was get through the hall and to her room.

  And tomorrow she would find that team of white horses.

  * * * *

  Ashley didn't see either Simon or Andrew at breakfast the next morning, but by the time the horses were saddled and the hounds led from the kennels, both of the men were in the courtyard.

  Simon didn't look the worse for wear, although he avoided her studiously. Lady Waitley glanced at her curiously several times while Simon stood next to her, but Ashley had no wish to engage either of them in conversation. Even more so when Southbury joined them. She'd had all the pompousness she'd care to take from him last night at whist, yet when he turned to look at her, too, she wondered uneasily what Simon had told them. Would she be arrested soon?

  She let go of that train of thought when Andrew approached her, leading a large black stallion and a daintier, gray Arabian mare.

  Andrew looked magnificent. His dark riding coat conformed to his broad chest and accentuated his raven hair, while the soft doeskin breeches clung to muscular legs. Polished Hessian boots came nearly to his knees, making Ashley think of him as a swashbuckler rather than a lord.

  “Hart tells me you have asked to join the hunt.” With an appreciative glint in his eye, he let his gaze rove over her well-fitting blue velvet riding habit. “I thought you might enjoy riding Zara. She was one of Her Grace's favorite mounts.”

  Her Grace? Ashley's eyes widened when she realized whom he meant. The duke's mother, Lady Georgiana Spencer before she married, and an ancestor to the People's Princess, Diana. And what irony that there had been quite a scandal in the duchess's own time that a member of court had been her husband's mistress.

  The mare nuzzled her arm, breaking her out of reverie. Andrew laughed. “She is looking for her lump of sugar.” He pulled two pieces from his pocket and handed one to her while he fed the other to the black.

  The mare took the proffered lump gracefully, her soft muzzle grazing Ashley's palm. “You are beautiful,” she crooned to the horse as the horn sounded for everyone to mount up.

  “Do you want the mounting block, or will I do?” Andrew asked as he interlaced his hands to offer her a step.

  “You'll do.” Ashley placed her boot in the cradle of his hands. She landed light
ly in the saddle and nearly rolled off the other side. She grabbed the pommel, knowing that she was blushing furiously from embarrassment. Damn sidesaddle. How did anyone keep her balance with one leg crooked over the saddle?

  Andrew caught her waist and righted her. “You do know how to ride?” he asked somewhat dubiously, his warm hands still holding her.

  For a moment she wondered what it would be like to fall off on this side, right into those strong arms. She chided herself for being silly. This may be the Regency period, but she wasn't taking part in some romance novel.

  “I do. I just ... over-compensated.”

  His hands slid from her waist, and he eyed her riding habit where it bunched up, revealing her calf above the half-boot. He adjusted the skirt, his fingers brushing her leg, and then he looked up at her and flashed a half-angelic and half-devilish smile.

  Lord help her. That mere touch to her flesh sent tiny sparks everywhere. And it made her want him touching her everywhere, too. If he'd joined her in the gazebo last night, what would she have done? Even if he weren't officially betrothed to Lady Felice, there was no doubt the girl was besotted. Did Ashley really want to hurt someone else as she had been hurt?

  He vaulted on to his horse. “Perhaps I should ride beside you, just in case you need more assistance.”

  As much as she wanted that, her mission today was to find out what happened to that white team of horses. With Andrew beside her, she'd never be able to get away. “I'd only slow you down,” she replied, “I don't mind taking it easy and getting to know Zara.” She gestured to the front of the group where the Master of Hound was getting ready to blow the horn again. “I think the duke is waiting for you. You go on ahead. I'll be fine.”

  Andrew glanced over to where the duke was indeed gesturing to him. With a sigh, he said, “I will be back soon. Just do not jump anything you are not comfortable with.” He wheeled the big horse and cantered easily over to his host.

  So, she was going to have to leave the pack earlier than she'd thought. Ashley held Zara behind the more zealous of the hunters, noting that Lady Waitley was riding between Simon and Southbury. Apparently, Lady Felice wasn't a horsewoman, for she wasn't in the crowd.

  The fox was released and the hounds began a frenzy of excited barking as their handlers unleashed them. The crowd broke into a canter, leaving her coughing in the dust. She stayed with them for a short distance as they galloped cross-country and then she turned back toward the road.

  She stopped at several crofters’ cottages, but no one had seen a coach and four whites go by. She got the same answer at the village not far away. Even the smith didn't know of anyone who had such horses. She stopped at the boarding house and inquired of travelers only to have one dandy offer to escort her to London if she wished to purchase white horses. He followed her out, laughing as she refused his offer, and tipped his hat.

  Discouraged, she glanced up at the sun, only to realize it was already slanting down. She'd spent far too much time ambling from one place to another with no luck. Deep in thought, pondering how she was going to return to her century unless she could find that coachman, she wasn't prepared when a big deer leapt into the roadway, spooking her mare.

  Zara reared when the buck's antlers nearly gored her as he rushed past. Ashley, having no grip with the sidesaddle, pitched backward, hitting the road with a thud before her world went black.

  * * * *

  Andrew pulled the big stallion up in a cloud of swirling dust as he slid from the saddle and knelt on the ground beside Ashley. He should have known the mare would be skittish after not having been ridden in some time.

  He'd come back for her once the hunt was under way, only to see her turn her horse in another direction. Remembering his conversation with Devonshire, he decided to follow her at a discreet distance. Puzzled at first by her stopping at so many crofters, he then wondered if she were gathering information from the duke's tenants about the daily goings-on. He didn't want to think that was what she was doing, but what other reason could there be? He grimaced, thinking of the dandy that had escorted her to her horse at that last village. The man had nodded to her as he tipped his hat. What had he agreed to do? Take information to the Americans? The French? Andrew's heart didn't want to believe what his eyes had seen.

  Ashley stirred, moaning. Even unconscious, her full, slightly parted lips looked ripe for kissing. Color was coming back into her cheeks as well and her eyelids slowly fluttered open. She tried to sit up.

  “What—”

  “Shhh,” Andrew said as he gently pushed her back down. “You have had a nasty fall. Let me check for broken bones first.”

  He ran his hands lightly down her legs and then up over her hips and ribs, trying to ignore his engorged shaft pressing against his breeches, wanting release. He couldn't remember ever being so aroused by a fully clothed woman. He allowed his hand the merest graze across her breasts as he felt her collarbone and was rewarded to see her chest rise as she took a quick intake of breath. The pupils of her eyes dilated slightly, but she didn't move. So. She liked his touch. He suppressed a smile.

  “I do not think anything's broken.” He wrapped an arm around her and brought her to a sitting position. She looked up at him trustingly, her luscious lips inches from his. Damn. She was irresistible, even out here on a dusty road. He dipped his head, his lips brushing hers.

  And thought he'd gone to heaven. Her warm, soft lips melded to his, parted willingly as his tongue sought entrance. She tasted as sweet as honeyed scones. He explored her mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling her pliant body against his.

  Ashley whimpered as his mouth made love to hers. Not even dh had been so masterful with her. His kisses began slow and easy, then grew hard and demanding. He slanted his mouth against hers, increasing the pressure, then withdrew to nibble lightly at her chin. He butterfly-kissed her cheeks and eyelids before returning to claim her mouth again in a hot, needy kiss. Deep in her core, inner muscles clenched as they mimicked the strong, sliding thrusts of his tongue. She pressed aroused, needy breasts against him, wanting more.

  But he didn't touch her where she ached. Instead, he withdrew his tongue then lifted her with him as he stood. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing out here, sweetheart?” he asked.

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk. Not when he had her so aroused. They were in the middle of a road, for pity's sake. Dear Lord, what to tell him?

  She struggled for composure. “I ... I didn't ... didn't think my riding skills were up to jumping so I decided to explore the countryside.”

  “That is all?” His dark gaze held hers.

  “What else would there be?” The best defense is a good offense. “Not that I'm not grateful, but what were you doing out here?”

  He studied her for a moment before he shrugged. “I noticed you left the hunt and I did not see Zara, so I came looking.”

  Her eyes widened. Did he think she meant to steal the horse? “I was on the way back. If that deer hadn't spooked us, I'd have been back. I didn't mean to cause any alarm.”

  “I am sure you didn't.”

  She wasn't sure what he meant by that. His voice was oddly flat and low, devoid of expression. How could a man go from being passionately hot to winterish cool so fast? Did he suspect her of not telling the whole truth? Better not press that point.

  “Perhaps we should return before the duke sends out a real search party.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he went to gather Zara and the black from where they grazed only steps away. His face impassive, he lifted her onto the mare's back, the slight lingering of his hands on her waist the only indication that moments earlier he had given her the most thorough kissing she'd ever had.

  The sun slanted long rays over the road as they headed toward Devonshire. The road was strangely deserted save for a pair of riders, collars turned up and hats pulled down, that turned off the road abruptly as they passed by.

  * * * *

  Lady Waitley
leaned closer to the Earl of Southbury and spread her fan, not that she needed to worry that anyone would hear her over the lively gallop that the orchestra was playing that evening. Still, she kept her voice down.

  “I do believe I might have made a mistake in befriending Miss Bouvier. It seems she has set her sights on Lord Tiverton.”

  The earl snorted. “She is a divorcée. An American, to boot. Hardly Quality. Surely, Tiverton will be discreet and not jeopardize his standing with my daughter.”

  “Do not be too sure of that, old chap,” Simon intervened. “Lady Waitley and I had quite an interesting excursion this afternoon.”

  Southbury raised his eyebrow at the informality of the address. “I should think you would take some caution in announcing that to all and sundry.”

  Lady Waitley tapped her fan rather sharply on the earl's arm. “Not that kind of an excursion, you randy man. It seems Miss Bouvier and Tiverton chose not to continue with the hunt.”

  “What?” This was from the Viscount Northrup, who had just finished his drink. “I say, I have never known Tiv to forego a hunt.”

  “He did this time,” Simon answered. “What was interesting is that before Tiverton caught up with her, Miss Bouvier made several stops, including one in the village where she met a dandy who seemed quite eager to do her bidding.”

  The earl frowned. “Why would an American be riding around the countryside, unescorted?”

  “Why indeed?” Simon returned. “Unless she is more than just a visitor?”

  Northrup hiccupped. “What do you mean?”

  Simon shrugged. “She mentioned to Caroline—Lady Waitley—that her father was in the American Navy. Perhaps she gathers information for him about the nobility and the common sots.”

  “How crudely put, Lord Alcott,” Lady Waitley admonished him, but she had a twinkle in her eye. “Why would she ever do that? I think she is just interested in catching herself a wealthy—”