She shouted at Robert, “Any slower and you’ll be a blasted statue!”
“Poor loser!” He nudged ahead and she concentrated more fully on the race, laughing with exhilaration.
***
From a bluff edging the southern end of the extensive formal gardens at Margrave Park, Michael Benedict Deveraux, twelfth Duke of Blixford, sat his horse and watched Lady Jane and her brother race down the lane edging a hayfield. She was a beauty; vibrant, filled with laughter and joie de vive. Hers was a nature of passion, everything in her life taken on with determination and single-minded purpose.
For reasons Michael couldn’t fathom, she’d taken him on. He was amused by her attempt to cloak herself in a mantle of decorous behavior, to vie for his attention amongst the other young ladies his sister, Lucy, had invited to her late summer house party. Lady Jane was earnest in her pursuit of him and he admired her dedication, even if he had no intention of acting upon it. She was unsuitable for his needs, and the sooner she realized it and moved on to other possibilities, the better off she would be.
“She’s in love with you.”
Without glancing at his sister, who sat her horse beside him, Michael nodded. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“She doesn’t care about the title.”
“I know.”
“Nevertheless, you won’t marry her.”
“Not on a bet, Lucy.” He glanced at her and admired her seat. She’d always been an excellent rider. Nothing in the league of Lady Jane, but quite competent. “I recall you mentioned her while you visited me in London this past Season. I believe I told you we wouldn’t suit.”
“How could you know, having barely met her? You refused to attend any functions, so you didn’t see her as I did.”
“I don’t live in a cave. I’m well aware she was the toast of the Season, but I’m also aware she’s Sherbourne’s only daughter, raised with six older brothers. She rides neck-or-nothing and discusses unladylike subjects. She shoots pistols.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucy said, a gleam in her dark eyes. “As I said, she’s perfect for you.”
“You invited her, no doubt certain I would be unable to resist her after two weeks of constant company.”
“How astute you are, and yet, how obtuse. Lady Jane would make a fine duchess, and make you extremely happy. I so wish to see you happy, Blix, to have something meaningful in your life that has nothing to do with sums and crops and shipping investments.”
He turned his attention back to the race. “I intend to offer for Lady Letitia at the end of the week.”
Lucy was quiet for a moment, watching Lady Jane and her brother as they raced to the finish. “Lady Letitia will make a fine duchess, but she’ll never make you happy.”
“It is not my aim to be happy. I need an heir, and an acceptable wife willing to provide one. My choice is adequate.”
“Your choice is a woman whom you’ll never love. You can’t bamboozle me, Blix. You chose Annabel for much the same reason. For an educated, intelligent man, you can be annoyingly short-sighted.”
“You married Bonderant because you loved him. Now you have lost him. Only last evening, you cried again. He’s been gone over a year, yet you continue to mourn him. Would you wish me the same misery?”
Lady Jane won the race. He could hear her voice, carried on the breeze, just as her earlier very unladylike shouts had reached him. “By God, Robert, I may ride like a girl, but I have bested you, yet again. I demand you bow before my superior horsemanship, at once.”
Robert was a good-natured sort, as were all of Sherbourne’s brood. He laughed and bowed in the saddle.
She returned his laugh as they turned back toward the house.
Lucy watched and murmured, “I don’t regret one moment I had with Matthew, and even had I known he would be taken from me far too soon, I’d marry him all over again. We had one glorious year of deep happiness and contentment. I have his son. I live in his house. His memory will never die. You see this as misery. I see it as honor and hope and something intrinsic I can’t name. Yes, I mourn my husband, but I’m far from miserable, Blix. Were you to marry Lady Jane, and if she were to die in childbed, as our mother did, as Annabel did, you would go on, and you wouldn’t be miserable. You’d be glad for the time you had.”
Michael refocused on the riders along the lane. “She’s very beautiful, and spoiled by Sherbourne. She would most likely demand attention and distract me from my work.”
“You should be distracted. You work too hard, Blix. Life is not meant to be lived riding the farms and toting up accounts.”