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.”
“She’s practically her mother and has been since their useless father left them to fend for themselves five years ago!” Hugh was still angry about that, too.
“That’s very noble of her and a dreadful travesty to be sure—but how exactly does that help you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“You employed Minerva to do a job, not rescue her and her family.”
“I’m not rescuing anyone.”
“Really? From where I’m standing, it seems as if Minerva has developed some sort of a hold on you which has diverted you from your purpose.”
“What utter rot! I am neither rescuing Minerva nor infatuated by her.” Although they had shared a moment just before Sarah ruined his day. A strange, charged, wonderful moment when she had looked into his eyes and he found himself drowning in hers. Happily drowning in hers. Surely that was only curiosity? And perhaps a healthy dose of lust?
“Did I mention anything about infatuation?”
Damn!
Before Giles had a field day with his friend’s unfortunate choice of word, Hugh nipped it in the bud. “You insinuated it. Do not deny it. I can read you like a book.”
“I am delighted to hear it. Actually falling for your fake fiancée would be an utter disaster—one that would only end in catastrophe. You are in grave danger, old boy, of starting to care about her feelings.”
“Balderdash.” Hugh brushed it away, trying to ignore the way Giles’s warning set his mind reeling. “I am simply trying to keep everyone happy in order to get on with the job in hand. And clearly failing.” Hugh felt his heart race, adding panic to the seething cauldron of uncomfortable emotions churning in his gut, because he did care about Minerva’s feelings. “To be honest, I’m at my wits’ end!”
“Then put your foot down!” His friend took a huge bite of cake and waved his fork at Hugh. “Sometimes you are too nice for your own good.”
“Nice?” That was almost as bad as “infatuated.”
“Yes. Nice. That’s why you have reached the end of your tether.” The fork wafted in the air. Hugh considered snatching it out of his hand and stabbing it into Giles’s forehead. “You spend far too much time pussyfooting around others rather than putting them in their place. Which ironically is what got you into this ridiculous predicament in the first place. You should have told your mother to stop interfering in your life … but, no! You created a convoluted buffer to avoid the confrontation. You’d be a fool to avoid it this time. Stop allowing Minerva to pander to Vee. Demand your money’s worth! I’m sure you can do it subtly if that’s more palatable to your namby-pamby sensibilities. You’re a charming fellow and a rich one. Engage a chaperone for the chit and send the pair of them to stay in your house in Mayfair. Vee will be safely supervised in one of Berkeley Square’s finest houses, Minerva will be placated and able to focus solely on the role of your fiancée, and if the gods are in your favor, a miracle will occur and your mother will sail back to Boston none the wiser.”
As a plan, it made sense. Miss Venus Merriwell was the weakest link. And he wanted to punch Giles in his annoyingly smug face for being right again. “How can you eat more cake now?”
“I’m starving.” The fork jabbed again. “But cease trying to change the subject, because I will not allow it. Vee’s emotions are too close to the surface and her efforts at pretending to be a lady fall woefully short.”
“I know.”
“Then the time for avoidance is done. You are master of this house. Be masterful, Hugh! You know I’m right.”
“I know!” Yet it didn’t make him want to pummel his irritating friend any less.
“Splendid.” The last piece of cake disappeared into Giles’s mouth. “I’ll ride on ahead with the girls and Loony Lucretia and you find a way to hang back with Minerva.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. She really is useless on a horse.” Another thing he was irrationally furious about. Who couldn’t sit on a blasted horse, for pity’s sake?
Some sort of truce had occurred by the time they rejoined the ladies in the stable yard. Lucretia was standing awkwardly on the opposite side of the cobbles with Diana, while Minerva and Vee sat together on a bench. It was obvious the youngest Merriwell had been crying, but once again her sister had managed to placate her, judging by her overbright smile as he and Giles approached. She nudged Vee, who looked miserably up at Hugh with watery eyes. “I apologize, Lord Fareham. I overreacted.”
“Apology accepted.” Despite his own black mood, he still felt sorry for the girl. He remembered that age only too well. It had been a horrible, confusing time filled with pimples, and he had only suffered through the traumatic loss of one parent, not both of them. “You’ll feel better after a good gallop across the fields.” As would he. Not that he could, thanks to her vexing older sister and the awkward conversation that couldn’t be put off any longer.
He avoided Minerva while the horses were brought around.
Much as he loathed Giles’s being right, Hugh needed to take charge. He needed to be resolute in what he wanted because this was his foolhardy plan, and he couldn’t allow the delicate feelings of a child to destroy it. This was a business transaction, plain and simple, and he was paying Minerva to give it her full attention. He would put his foot down if the need arose. Stop being so nice—what an insultingly insipid word!—and cease all carnal thoughts that clouded his mind and muddied the water. And he needed to put all the tangled feelings churned up by Sarah back in the dusty corner of his mind.
Having a plan and executing it were two different things, and as they set off toward the house, Minerva naturally lagged behind Hugh, who rode a little ahead of her because his control on his temper was hanging by a thread and not all of that was her fault. But every time he turned back and had to slow his horse for her to catch up, his temper simmered more. Even Galileo was becoming annoyed at the sedentary pace and, like Hugh, wanted his legs. Hugh went around a bend, looked over his shoulder, and then had to stop yet again when she wasn’t there. As the seconds ticked by and there was still no sight of her, he had no choice other than to turn Galileo around and angrily retrace his steps.
“What the blazes are you doing?”
She was stationary, hanging at an odd angle from the saddle, yanking at her skirts, which had wrapped themselves around her legs. “I’m getting down!” She glared at him, her face scowling. “I’ve had enough! I hate riding! I told you I’d be useless at it, yet you forced me to do it regardless! And then you galloped off!”
“Galloped? The chance would have been a fine thing.”
“Trotting then! Or cantering! All I know is it was at a pace significantly quicker than you promised!” The heavy burgundy velvet finally gave way, giving him a very unwelcome show of her silk-clad legs all the way to the knees as she awkwardly slithered down to the ground and glared again. “I’ll walk Marigold back and then I’ll never sit on a stupid horse again!” With exaggerated haughtiness, she marched to the front of the horse and grabbed the reins, then shooed him away with one imperious gloved hand. “Go! And while gone, you can use that vivid imagination of yours to conjure up a good reason why Miss Landridge regrets she is unable to ride when your mother asks!”
It was the shooing that ultimately did it, sending all the morning’s frustrations careening out of his mouth in one sarcastic snarl. “Miss Landridge is unable to ride because she doesn’t listen to a damn word I’ve said! You sit on the poor horse as stiff as a board, choke the poor thing on the bit, and then expect it to walk along compliantly at the speed of a snail! Poor Marigold is bored senseless!”
“Don’t take your bad mood out on me!”
“Why not? You’re the one responsible for it!”
“How dare you!” She had the nerve to look down her nose at him. No mean feat when he still sat on Galileo and a good six feet off the ground. “I’ve been nothing but pleasant to you all day, despite your having a face like thunder throughout luncheon.” Then off she went. Nose in the air, distracting hips swaying as she stomped, the very picture of outraged self-righteousness.
“And that was your fault, too!” Because looming over her didn’t feel right even when he was rightly fuming, he jumped off his horse and trailed after her.
“Oh yes! Of course it was! It had absolutely nothing to do with Mrs. Sarah Peters, did it?” Minerva turned to wag her finger. “Just admit it! You’ve been in a sulk since we collided with her in the square.” Her hands went to her hips as they stood, now practically toe to toe. “And it hasn’t escaped my notice you were absolutely no help during that nonsense over dinner. That actress is a menace!”
“At least that actress is doing exactly what I’m paying her for!”
“Surely you are not suggesting I haven’t? On what grounds?” For a woman who had no idea if she possessed any blue blood at all, she displayed indignation like a snooty duchess. “I have done absolutely everything you’ve asked. Absolutely. Everything. Why, I even sat on this stupid horse when I expressly told you I had no talent for it.” She shooed him again and stuck her self-righteous nose back in the air. “How dare you!”
“Oh I dare, Minerva!” The lid finally exploded off the seething cauldron of emotions, and they all spewed out in a rush. “You and your bloody family have pushed me to the very edge of my patience and I’m done with it!”
“Don’t bring my sisters into this…”
“Why not? You did. In fact, you insisted upon bringing them and I have been nothing but patient with the pair of them. Diana is rude, convinced I am a debaucher, and cannot keep her big mouth shut, and Vee is a petulant child who frankly cannot cope with any of what I expect her to do!”
“Vee’s outburst had nothing to do with coping and everything to do with Lucretia! The woman is mad! All her bosom clutching and expostulating. Oh my dear husband.” She clutched her own bosom with one hand, dragging his eyes there before the back of her other hand went to her forehead. But the damage was done, and the unwanted lust reared its ugly head again. “Why, oh, why did he have to die?” Then as if she had made her point, she dispassionately shrugged. “Get rid of her, Hugh. She’s spoiling everything.”
“Actually—it’s Vee I’m getting rid of.” Her mouth fell open. “She’s the one spoiling everything and it cannot continue.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I shall assign her a responsible maid as a chaperone, and she can sit out my mother’s impending visit in my house in Mayfair, where she cannot cause any more trouble!” Hugh ignored the urge to stamp his foot. “In fact, she can leave tonight.”
“Over my dead body!”
“Oh, be reasonable! She’s a child and she’s taking up far too much of everyone’s time. Especially yours. When I agreed you could bring your sisters to Hampshire, you made no mention of the fact she is so young or so…” Was “whiny and irritating” too harsh? “Needy.”
“She is seventeen!”
“She can’t even master cutlery, for pity’s sake. She wanders around looking permanently startled and overwhelmed, and then rewards us with regular bursts of histrionics when anyone dares mention a parent of any sort—even a fictional one! And you”—his own finger had started to wag of its own accord—“indulge her every whim. The cutlery debacle yesterday is a case in point! You mastered a table setting in under five minutes on the first day. So did Diana. But because poor, sensitive Vee didn’t know her soup spoon from the carving knife, you made Payne waste a blasted hour teaching her again while all she achieved was a giant soup stain on the tablecloth!”
Haughty disdain was replaced with wounded dismissal. “She will improve.… I will help her.”
“I am not paying you to help her, Minerva. I am paying you a very generous fee to help me!”
“That is very mercenary!”
“Mercenary be damned! You seem to have conveniently forgotten I am paying you to do a job and I deserve my money’s worth. From now on, I insist you give that task your single and undivided attention until the job is done. That is what we agreed.”
“If Vee goes, then so will I. On Saturday. As we also agreed.”
“If you think I’m paying you twenty pounds because you deign to stay till Saturday on sufferance like a martyr—think again. It’s Friday and by childishly stating your intentions to leave a day before you actually do, you have rendered our bargain null and void. If you choose to renege on our bargain, I won’t pay you a single penny! How’s that for mercenary!”
It was Hugh’s turn to spin on his heel and storm off. He’d said his piece. Perhaps not quite how he had intended—he wasn’t particularly proud of himself and hated the fact he’d had to hurt her feelings in the process—but it was said, and that was the end of it.
Mercenary! This wasn’t charity, this was business! He grabbed Galileo’s reins and was about to haul himself back onto his horse when he suddenly stopped. He could hardly ride away and leave her walking all alone, no matter how furious he was. His blasted good manners were too ingrained and his conscience too sensitive. Nor was there a cat’s chance in hell he was going to hoist the vixen back into her own saddle. He didn’t need the reminder of the smell of her perfume or the feel of her womanly hips, and he certainly didn’t need all the nonsense from his errant body that went along with them. He was done with the blasted hold she had on him. Instead, he tugged his horse to follow him as his legs ate up the ground between her and his house.
Unfortunately, thanks to her wonderful, shapely long legs that he wished he hadn’t seen and couldn’t seem to get out of his mind, she managed to catch up with him as he approached the stable, grabbing his sleeve and hauling him to face her with a strength that surprised him. And she didn’t look the slightest bit contrite either, damn her.
Her jaw was set. Her green eyes had hardened to emeralds. The feather on the silly little hat perched on her irritating dark head quivered with indignation.
“Keep your stupid money! And I wish you good luck! Although frankly, if you think Vee behaves like a petulant child, you should take a good look in the mirror. What sort of a man invents a fiancée because he finds responsibility too daunting and is frightened of his own mother!”