Racing with the Wind (Agents of the Crown) Page 6

  Fool! her mind had screamed. Tears welled in her eyes and a deep ache settled in her chest as she turned from the entwined pair and strode back to her horse, not caring if they heard her boots on the hard ground. Grabbing the reins, she galloped away from the stable and did not look back. Ian had not come to Campbell Manor again and Mary was glad of it.

  Until now, Ian’s kiss had been her only real experience. It had not prepared her for the kiss of Hugh Redgrave. In truth, nothing could have—nor for the man himself. Despite his reputation, she had allowed him to erode the guard she had placed about her heart. He was like a gale force wind blowing through her life and body, a force she seemed unable to resist.

  As she reentered the house, her lips were still pulsing. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, and her body was tingling in ways she had never felt before. In a hurry to get to her room, she looked down as she passed the library, where the sounds of the men’s conversations filtered into the hall, but Lady Huntingdon unfortunately picked that same time to leave the chamber where the women had settled into card games.

  “Oh, please excuse me!” Mary said with a start, bringing her palm to her heart as she almost crashed into the countess.

  Lady Huntingdon eyed her with concern. “Mary, are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m fine.” Mary fumbled for an explanation. She didn’t favor card games, so she would not likely have joined the other women in any event, but she had absolutely no desire to do so now. “It was a lovely dinner. I just thought I’d retire early to be ready for a full day tomorrow.”

  “Of course, my dear,” the countess replied. “Let me know if I can do anything for you. Remember me as your mother’s good friend—and yours—while you are here.”

  “I will, and thank you,” Mary said. A moment later she was hurrying on toward the stairs and safety.

  * * *

  Emily Huntingdon watched her young guest flee and wondered which young man had captured her interest. She obviously had been kissed, and Mary was not a silly girl. In fact, Emily and her husband had always thought the young woman exceptional. Whoever it was, he was surely a very special man.

  Before she could move, Hugh Redgrave entered the hall from the terrace. Lost in his thoughts, eyes on the floor, he did not see Emily as he strode down the corridor while muttering under his breath. He soon reached the door of the library, where the men were smoking their cigars, and disappeared inside.

  A slight smile teased Emily Huntingdon’s lips. Ah, yes. A very special man indeed.

  Chapter 6

  Hugh stood at the window looking out of his room and dragged his hand through his hair. The morning sun was already falling on the gardens below, and memories of kissing Mary Campbell the night before flooded his mind. He hadn’t set out to follow her, and he certainly had harbored no intention of kissing the minx. But in her fury she’d been irresistible.

  He hadn’t slept well. What man would after the events of the night before? He had tossed in his all too comfortable bed, and when he had finally succumbed to Morpheus, he had been plagued by dreams of a golden-haired girl with liquid green eyes and full lips soft and warm beneath his.

  Shaking off the dream, he considered the activities planned for the day. As the men parted last night, the earl had mentioned archery in the morning and a picnic in the afternoon. Perhaps some time with a bow and arrows would improve his mood, he decided, having enjoyed the sport as a younger man. It wasn’t easy for him to fall into the pastimes of the idle peerage; he was used to the challenge of more interesting pursuits, but he supposed for the weekend he could throw himself into them.

  With that in mind, he strolled late into breakfast when most of the guests were already gone. After hastily devouring some bread and fruit, and swilling some tea, he hurried to catch up with those already on the archery field.

  Arthur Bywood saw him coming and hurriedly brought him a bow and a quiver of arrows as he walked onto the lawn. “Ormond! Come join me in trying to save the reputation of the men as fierce competitors.”

  “Are we standing that badly?” Hugh inquired.

  “We started well, but since Lady Mary began to shoot, the women have racked up the points. She is holding down the women’s side of the match rather splendidly. Doing too awfully well, actually.”

  Hugh took the bow and arrows from the younger man and brought his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Mary Campbell was nocking an arrow and preparing to shoot. She let the arrow fly, and from what Hugh could see, struck very near the target’s center. Obviously she hadn’t had any problem sleeping last night.

  The next contender was a young man Hugh had been introduced to last evening, James Fairchild, a friend of the earl’s son. Trying to show off his prowess with the sweeping hand movements of a court jester, Fairchild missed the target by a wide margin, which sent everyone into gales of spontaneous laughter. Hugh’s eyes were on Mary, who was laughing as she tucked loose wisps of golden hair behind her ear.

  With Hugh’s arrival the men rallied, and it was a draw by the time the noon meal arrived. The pleasure of dining on freshly roasted chicken, bread still warm from the morning oven, ripe fruit and the earl’s special wine beckoned. Lady Huntingdon had arranged the picnic on one of the lawn’s green slopes with ground cloths spread out for guests to sit on. Hugh was suddenly starved, and he seated himself where he had a good view of Lady Mary. Arthur Bywood was sitting next to her, regaling her with stories of his recent travels.

  Next to Hugh was Lord McGinnes, an avid horseman who wanted to know about the horses Hugh was breeding at the Albany country estate, a new line of Thoroughbreds raised for strength and speed. It seemed to Hugh the man was more horse mad than even he was.

  “Will I get to see these fine animals you speak of, Ormond?” asked the dark-haired lord.

  “You will. I brought my chestnut for the hunt tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it,” McGinnes announced, with a gleam in his eye and a twitch of his dark moustache. “For I intend to ride with you all. Never tire of the sport. Love a good romp.”

  Hugh noticed Mary glance his way. Though he was fascinated by the way the sun glinted on her hair, he also found himself wondering if she could have been listening as he spoke of his new venture. He was amused to see she had just missed something in her ongoing conversation.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bywood, might you say that again?”

  “I just wondered if you wanted some grapes, Lady Mary.”

  The woman accepted Arthur Bywood’s offer, and she had him put the grapes not into her hand but into her mouth. The visual, with her tongue reaching out to collect the grapes, stirred Hugh immensely. At the same time, he experienced profound irritation with the young Bywood, who reminded Hugh of an eager puppy given a new toy.

  Conversation abounded as the meal was consumed and the group relaxed on the lawn. Mary expressed her opinions on books she was reading, discussed a few of her favorite poems and also the ones she found wanting. Hugh listened to her comments, as did many others, and to his surprise he found he did not mind her views so much. At least she wasn’t giggling mindlessly like Lady Harriet, who had plopped down next to him. Once he even agreed with Mary. He’d read the poem she was deriding, and it really wasn’t very good.

  It was truly a shame that he wasn’t looking to marry at present. The more he discovered about the young woman, the more she captivated him.

  * * *

  Dinner that night was to be another grand affair. Mary chose a sapphire silk gown embellished with jet beadwork at the neckline. A shocking garment for her age, she supposed. The gown revealed her curves more subtly than the last one, too, but once again she found the color striking. Even the young maid Amie commented how the garment made Mary’s eyes appear blue.

  As she entered the dining room, Mary saw that Lord Ormond’s dark indigo velvet jacket complemented her attire. Thank God I’m not sitting next to him. We’d look a matched pair. She felt her cheeks warm at the tho
ught and fought the smile that threatened to appear on her face. Hugh Redgrave was not a man to be trifled with. It was bad enough she had melted into him when he kissed her. The things she had heard marked him as a man who, even when married, might take other women to his bed. Many did in the peerage, and he would be no different. Not to be trusted.

  Instead, she was seated next to Lord McGinnes, who was anxious to learn about her horse. He’d heard rumors of her riding a huge black stallion and wanted to know if they were true, for he knew of no woman who would ride such a beast. A friend of her uncle, McGinnes had been widowed two years earlier. Lady Huntingdon had told Mary he was yet to sire an heir and was in the market for a new wife. He seemed very pleased to learn Mary had some talent as a horsewoman.

  She managed to get through dinner without looking at Ormond. McGinnes dominated her attention talking horseflesh. Afterwards, however, Lady Huntingdon took her aside.

  “Mary, Lord Ormond could not take his eyes off of you the whole evening!”

  “Surely not,” Mary said, trying to sound indifferent.

  “Surely so,” said Emily, smiling.

  “But…he’s quite a man of the world, isn’t he?”

  Lady Huntingdon gave her an understanding smile. “You can’t believe all the stories, Mary. I know Lord Ormond and his reputation, but he is more discreet than you would guess, and his idea of honor does not include taking the virtue of young innocents.”

  “Thank heaven for that,” Mary said, feigning relief. In truth, it meant little to her that he might be discreet with his mistresses, and she was surprised her mother’s friend would suggest as much. She wanted no part of that scene.

  Lady Huntingdon encouraged the guests to enter the parlour and asked some to contribute to the evening’s entertainment, imploring one or another to play the piano while brandy, port and tea were served. Lady Harriet obliged. The young woman played a soft tune as background for their conversations. Much was made of Mary’s success with the bow. She was not as good with a piano, however, and was content to sit and listen.

  To Mary’s surprise, Lady Huntingdon asked Ormond to go next. Never would Mary have guessed he played well enough to entertain. It was her experience that few men did, though she was familiar with great performing artists such as Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven. All of those were men, but she could not name any among the peerage who played.

  Though reluctant at first, Hugh acquiesced after a chorus of pleas for him to display his talent. Settling himself on the bench he took command of the piano, filling the room with a beautiful sonata.

  Mary was enthralled, watching the grace and ease with which he commanded the instrument, his long fingers powerfully stroking the keys. The guests stopped talking and listened, enraptured, as if Pan were playing his pipes. Mary’s resolve to ignore the man began to weaken.

  He played with such artistry, with such abandon. She already knew he could make her knees wobble with his kiss. What other hidden talents did the man possess? And how dangerous would it be for a young woman of no experience to be curious about them?

  * * *

  Sunday dawned as beautiful as it was cool. Church claimed some of the guests who rose early, including Mary—and Ormond. She loved to sing the hymns, having grown up with them as a child. Watching Ormond in the pew ahead of her, from what she could see he did not look at the hymnbook but knew the words. As the service ended, they left the church, each seeming to avoid the other.

  Due to church and the scheduled hunt, breakfast was served late. A special air of excitement circulated among the men, as this would be the last hunt of the fox hunting season. Some women would ride to the starting point and return just for the exercise, but none would actually take part in the sport. And none rode astride like Mary, improper as that was deemed. For that reason, she expected to stay behind.

  Mary planned to read. She’d already decided that at least for the rest of the morning she would begin the new novel she’d bought while shopping with her mother. Yes, some time in the library away from the men and Lord Ormond would be just what she needed. She could continue to avoid him until the time came for her to return home.

  In anticipation of the quiet day, she chose a simple topaz-colored gown and pulled her hair back into a chignon at her nape. Her mother would have considered the outfit the picture of understated elegance. Mary thought it plain.

  As she descended the stairs and entered the breakfast room, Mary experienced the high level of excitement among the men anticipating the hunt. She joined the guests piling their plates with food from the handsome carved sideboard. The offerings included eggs and ham, some mixed egg dishes, fresh-baked bread and fruit. It was a good country breakfast, and the air was filled with enticing smells. The hot tea was welcome, since Mary had another restless night.

  Arthur Bywood was the first to greet her when she carried her plate to the table, his blue eyes sparkling as he asked her to join him. She slid into the chair next to him as he unleashed a long dialog about the events of the season ahead and the ball where they’d first met. Although Mary held little awe for that evening, she tried to be polite.

  He smiled at her often as they ate. It was clear he saw her as a love interest, which Mary regretted. There was, however, little she could do about it.

  Lord Ormond strode into the room a few minutes later, already dressed for the hunt, handsome in his black coat, white breeches and black boots. Mary’s heartbeat accelerated. Her eyes fixed on a lock of dark hair that had fallen onto his forehead, making him look more the rake than ever and so unlike Arthur Bywood whose every hair was smoothed into place. Like a great thundercloud, he dominated the room, and she found herself wondering why it had to be him who stirred her blood.

  * * *

  Hugh’s eyes were immediately drawn to Mary. He did not like the way young Bywood was drooling over her and felt a disturbing wave of jealousy course through him.

  Jealousy was not an emotion he allowed himself. As a man with no lack of women willing to come to his bed, it was ridiculous to be jealous over attentions paid to one of the season’s young innocents. But that kiss in the garden had drastically altered his classification of Mary Campbell as a typical ingénue. That reality and another sleepless night had him nearly snarling at Lord McGinnes, who had merely inquired if Hugh was looking forward to the hunt.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, too curtly. “So glad the weather will be good.”

  Gathering his plate and asking for tea from the servants, Hugh joined McGinnes and some of the other men at one end of the long table, briefly nodding to Lady Mary and young Bywood as he passed. Engrossed in his emotional turmoil, he barely noticed Lady Harriet and one of the other young women move their plates to sit closer to him.

  Fortunately, breakfast was a short endeavor. When it ended, the earl rose and reminded all the riders that the time for the hunt was approaching. Mary stood, wished Arthur Bywood good luck on his ride and left the room.

  Hugh observed Mary’s departure, aware that she would not be coming along on the hunt. For some reason he could not fathom, he wanted to see her before he left, so he exited the dining room to seek her out.

  In his hasty departure, he nearly collided with Lady Huntingdon. Apologizing, he asked if she’d happened to see Lady Mary, since the empty hallway provided no clue. The countess gave him a knowing smile and directed him to the library. Hugh thanked her and strode off in that direction.

  Opening the door to the library, he found Mary reading alone. Her head popped up from her book as he closed them inside, but she offered no greeting, waiting for him to speak instead.

  “Lady Mary, the hunt is about to begin and I wanted to speak with you if you have a moment.”

  “Of course, my lord,” she said. “What is it?” She set her book aside.

  “I did not get to talk to you yesterday, and…I wanted to apologize for my behavior that first night.” What he really wanted was to be with her again, but he was not about to say that.

&
nbsp; Mary stared straight into his eyes, seemingly unmoved. “Think nothing of it, my lord. It’s forgotten.”

  He paused, taken aback. He hadn’t been sorry for their kiss and he’d hoped for a different reaction. “Right, then.” He waited to see if she would say more. She just picked up her book as if to dismiss him. Miffed, he frowned and left.

  He was not in a pleasant mood as he hurried after the men gathering for the hunt.

  * * *

  Mary read for most of the morning, trying not to dwell on Ormond’s kiss, and was returning from a walk in the gardens with Lady Huntingdon when they heard shouts from the carriage lane in front of the manor. Exchanging a frantic look, the two hurried without a word toward the source of the voices. At the front of the estate they encountered a great commotion.

  Several returning hunters reined in their horses, the animals’ coats white with sweat and prancing in an agitated state. The men’s faces showed their anxiety as one of them shouted, “A carriage! We must have a carriage!”

  Women poured from the house, everyone curious to know what had happened.

  “Ormond tried to save Arborn as he was falling from his horse,” the man shouted upon seeing Lady Huntingdon. “It was on the treacherous jump near the river, my lady. ’Twas lucky Ormond was able to slow Arborn’s fall, but in the process both ended up on the ground. They are lying there now, injured.”

  Lady Huntingdon’s hand went to her throat, and Mary was similarly horrified. Experience had taught her how bad riding accidents could be, and fox hunting held some of the worst dangers. Only the best riders could make the jumps and quick turns. As a young child she’d been standing near the stables when they brought back her father’s broken body. That memory had not faded with time.