To Love the Brooding Baron

NINETEEN

NINETEEN

Henry pulled back on the reins to his two matching grays as they came to a stop in front of the Lathams’ home. He’d driven alone in the front of his phaeton coach while Bradbury had lounged across the back seat.

“Not too badly done. A little slow for my taste,” Bradbury said, using one of the larger back wheels as a step to hop down. He looked up at Henry from the pavement, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “But I can see that I will have my work cut out for me if I am to teach both you and Miss Latham to handle the conveyance properly.”

Henry didn’t bother looking to the heavens for patience; they’d not answered any of his other prayers after all. “Would you just go and fetch Miss Latham?”

“You do not want to come in?” Bradbury asked, tilting his head with a perplexing glance.

“I should double-check the horses,” Henry said, suddenly feeling nervous that he’d not be able to control his need to touch Arabella. He’d tried telling himself that just being in her company would be more than enough, but he could already feel himself slipping from that resolve. He needed a moment to clear his head and regain the tight control he held over himself.

“Very well,” Bradbury said. “Though if we die today, I doubt it will be because of a poorly fastened buckle.” He chuckled before dashing up to the front door.

Instead of regaining control, Henry felt a nervous energy humming through him, making the muscles in his arms feel tight while his hands slightly shook. And all because of one woman. A traitorous smile crested his lips.

Climbing down from the phaeton, he rechecked the straps and buckles on the horses.

They began to fidget, no doubt sensing Henry’s unease. He placed a hand on each of their necks and stroked the silky short hairs in a bid to calm them.

The front door to the Lathams’ home opened, and he turned his head to watch as a glorious figure in sky blue practically skipped down the front steps. Her lips looked kissed by the sun.

She is breathtaking, Henry inwardly groaned. Enduring an outing where one could look but not touch should’ve been one of Hercules’s twelve labors.

Her eyes brightened the moment their eyes met, and her cheeks flushed to the color of a sun-ripened peach.

“A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse,” she called out with a smile he wanted only for himself.

She stopped next to him on the pavement and placed a hand close to his on the horse’s neck. She had the most infectious smile, one that instantly pulled an answering smile to his own lips.

“Richard the Third,” Henry replied, his littlest finger turning on him and sliding across until it rested atop of her own. And just like that, a lifetime’s resolve for control was obliterated.

Red colored her cheeks, and she stared up at him through her long, dark lashes.

“Come on, Goosey,” Bradbury said, clamping both hands on Henry’s shoulders, nearly making him jump out of his own skin, and hauling him back a few steps.

Henry gave a slight shake of his head. He’d been so enraptured by the bewitching creature before him he’d completely forgot his surroundings.

Still holding onto Henry’s shoulders, Bradbury leaned close to his ear. “Could you at least wait to fawn all over your ladylove until we are out of sight of Mama Latham? We do not need her writing to Emerson.”

Henry swallowed. That would be his luck.

Clapping Henry on the back, Bradbury jumped up into the driver’s seat and untied the reins from the brake lever. “Come on, you two, let us get this driving lesson over with. Death—I mean time—waits for no one.” He winked and shot them both an amused grin.

“I shall make you eat your words once again, Mr. Bradbury,” Arabella challenged with her usual spark of determination.

Bradbury barked out a laugh. “Touché, Miss Latham.”

Henry shook his head and laughed to himself. It was most certainly going to be a ride to remember.

He held out a hand to Arabella and enjoyed the warm pressure of her touch in his palm as he helped her up into the conveyance. He climbed up after her, envious of Bradbury’s position next to Arabella, while he took the seat behind them.

As soon as they entered Hyde Park, Bradbury directed the horses to turn from the thoroughfare and down one of the more private gravel lanes in between the Serpentine and a copse of trees. The sunbathed park was bustling with almost every member of the ton who remained in London, enjoying the warmth after what felt like months of rain.

“All right, Miss Latham,” Bradbury said, pulling the horses to a stop and dropping the reins haphazardly into Arabella’s hands. He leaned back in his seat, stretched out his legs as far as they could go, and crossed one ankle over the other. “Have at it.”

Henry lunged forward, nearly clearing the back of their seat as he took hold of the reins before Arabella could do any such thing. “What in the devil is wrong with you?” he yelled at Bradbury, his voice sounding hoarse, whether from his barely suppressed anger or because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d raised his voice at anyone, he couldn’t say.

“What?” Bradbury asked innocently. “She said she wanted to make me eat my words, so here is her chance.”

Henry sucked in a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his anger, and the scent of primroses immediately filled his senses. In his haste to grab the reins, he had inadvertently wrapped his arms around Arabella from behind. Her back was firmly pressed against his chest, and he was quickly growing distracted by the feel of her in his arms.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Was she as aware of him as he was of her?

You could lean in closer and find out, the voice inside his head whispered.

Henry cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on the twelve hundred pounds of powerful horseflesh before them.

He quickly untangled his arms from around Arabella and repositioned the reins between her and Bradbury. Because of the short length of the reins, he was forced to lean over the back of their bench, which still put him near Arabella, but at least he was no longer touching her.

She turned her head to smile at him. The apples of her cheeks were the most fetching shade of red, and he felt her awareness of him like a dart of pleasure and pain, tempting him to touch her again.

Bradbury. He needed to focus on the dim-witted Bradbury.

Tearing his eyes away, he glowered at his senseless friend. “You cannot just hand over the reins to animals that have enough force and weight to kill a man.”

“I did no such thing,” Bradbury argued over his shoulder at Henry. “I have had my hand on the brake lever this entire time.” Bradbury lifted his hand from where the lever rested near his thigh and mockingly wiggled his fingers. Then he stood and faced Henry.

“Furthermore, my reflexes are just as quick as yours, and I would have jumped in at the first sign of trouble.” He placed his boot on the back of the bench, forcing Henry to look up to meet his eyes. “But if you think you can do better, then, by all means, take over the lesson.” In the blink of an eye, Bradbury had stepped over the back of the bench, crowding the space where Henry was standing.

“What is the matter with you?” Henry growled, glaring at Bradbury. He had to juggle moving himself into position on the front bench while also trying to hold the pair of horses steady.

“Nothing,” Bradbury said with a confident smile as he leaned back on the bench and placed his hands behind his head. “Now, do not keep Miss Latham waiting.” He winked. “Show the lady a proper driving lesson.”

Henry stared at Bradbury in stunned disbelief. Had his friend just pulled off a brilliant matchmaking stratagem and secured Henry time with Arabella while Bradbury served as chaperone?

His jaw nearly dropped in astonishment. If that was Bradbury’s intention, the man who had renounced love could prove to be a rival to Lady Bixbee.

“I would advise closing your mouth,” Bradbury said, leaning forward to pat Henry on the shoulder. “Horses are known for their attraction to flies.”

Henry clamped his mouth shut. Heaven help him, his friend had orchestrated the whole thing.

Arabella giggled.

Henry slowly turned his head toward her. “What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing,” she said, smiling up at him with a look that was both adorable and provoking.

“Do you want to learn to drive the phaeton or not?” he grumbled even as a grin pulled at his lips.

“Yes, very much,” she replied, a spark of nervous excitement in her eyes.

Henry nodded, reminding himself to focus on the task at hand and not solely on the beautiful woman next to him.

He held out the reins to her, trying—and failing—to not breathe in her sweet scent. Another whiff and he would demand his aunt plant primroses in all the gardens.

Arabella hesitated for a moment, her brow lifting as her front teeth caught her bottom lip. “I thought you said I was not supposed to just be handed the reins?”

“You are not,” he said to reassure her. “Now take—”

Before he could finish, she snatched the reins out of his hands, teasing him with her eyes as the horses rocked back and forth from the sudden motion.

“Who seeks and will not take when once ’tis offered shall never find it more.” Her lips quirked in a mischievous smile.

“Antony and Cleopatra,” Henry replied with a smile. He loved her games.

“I am beginning to think I shall have to work harder to try to stump you, Lord Northcott.”

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to ask her to call him by his Christian name.

What was that about not letting it go any further? the voice whispered.

Taking a breath, he positioned her fingers into the correct grip. He was teaching her to drive a phaeton, nothing more. “The reins should start between your little finger and the next finger, and then up along the palm and out through your thumbs.”

She nodded, her breaths coming out in shallow pants that tickled his cheek.

He swallowed past a growing lump in his throat as his fingers slowly guided the leather straps along the delicate shape of her palm. The world around them fell silent until all he could hear was his breath beginning to match her own.

“What do I do next?” she asked in a soft whisper, her eyes dipping to where his thigh pressed up against her own.

“You will want to—” He swallowed, trying not to focus on the heat radiating through him from that simple touch. “To hold the reins out in front of you with enough tension to give the horses leave but also keep them steady.”

She nodded, her eyes holding his for a long, penetrating moment.

“Now,” he said, the inexplicable dryness in his throat forcing him to clear it. “You will want to press the toes of one foot up against the footboard to help you hold fast against the initial pull of the horses while leaving the other foot flat against the floor.”

She adjusted her seat, her leg rubbing even closer against his.

He held back a groan. He couldn’t take much more of this.

“And now?” She sounded almost breathless as she stared up at him, as if anticipating something different from what she was asking for.

“And now, I have grown a beard.” Bradbury startled them both by standing from his seat and jumping off the phaeton. “If ever you decide to do some actual driving, circle back around to collect me. I think I saw Lord Darby; he owes me money.”

Henry stared at his friend’s retreating form, unblinking. So much for sticking to his promise to never leave him alone with Arabella. Henry was in so much trouble.

“Does everyone owe him money?” Arabella asked.

Henry turned back to her. “Only those who are foolish enough to wager against him,” he replied. Their legs were still pressed together on the tiny bench. Why were benches made so small?

Arabella laughed. “I wagered against him.”

“You are a rare exception,” Henry replied, believing those words to be true in more ways than one. There was no one like Arabella in the entire world, he was sure of it.

Her smile was broad—and perhaps a little smug.

Henry shook his head with an uncontrollable grin as he released the break. Task at hand. “Now, brace your feet and then gently flick the reins.”

She adjusted her position on the seat, driving him once again to distraction with all the touching, and then flicked the reins.

The horses jumped, jerking the conveyance forward and nearly pulling a yelping Arabella with them.

Henry reached out, grabbing her hips and pulling her back into the seat.

“Flick with your wrists, not your arms,” Henry instructed, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around her. He wanted to make certain she stayed in the seat—not because he was enjoying the feel of her next to him. With his other hand, he helped adjust the pressure of the reins in her hands until the horses fell into a smooth, steady gait down the gravel path.

“Well, that was certainly thrilling. I see why you wanted me to brace my feet.” Arabella sheepishly laughed, her eyes dipping down to his arm that was still wrapped around her waist.

He should remove it. Luckily for him, they were coming upon a rounded turn.

“Pull—slightly—on one of the reins.” He helped guide her hand until they safely turned the bend.

Another conveyance was coming toward them, forcing Henry to remove his arm.

Arabella smiled at him, the warmth in her eyes making him feel as if she regretted the removal of his touch as well. His heart should not be warmed by that fact.

They fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. He didn’t feel awkward, but he kept trying to think of something to say. She was a quick learner, and the lane was easy to navigate, making it unnecessary for him to offer her any more instruction.

“This might seem completely forward of me,” Arabella started, glancing toward him before returning her attention to the horses as they passed the other conveyance. “But I had hoped to ask you this the last time we were together, and if I do not ask it now, I am afraid we shall be interrupted again.”

Henry nodded hesitantly, not knowing what to expect.

“Did you visit your sister?”

Henry’s back stiffened, and he looked away on impulse.

The conveyance jerked to a stop. He felt the reassuring touch of Arabella’s hand on his back, and his heart quickened in response.

“I do not ask to pry,” she said in a gentle tone.

“I know,” Henry said, distracting himself with securing the brake.

What could he say? He’d already told her more than he’d ever told anyone else. But if they were ever going to be given a chance to pursue an attachment, she’d have to know the truth.

He turned to face her, her hand slipping from his back. He wished he could pull it back. “I did go and see her,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“And?” Arabella prompted, her soft tone washing away the last of his resistance.

“And she was like a shell of herself. She had been given a drug by a doctor. There had been an incident, though I am not entirely certain what to believe happened.” He paused and gripped his hands together in front of him. “Whatever Dr. Stafford expected me to find, I am trying hard to believe that it could not have been that.”

Arabella placed a hand on top of his. “I am certain it was not.” Her voice was gentle and soothing, her eyes imploring him to continue to hope. “You must try again. For her sake as well as yours.” Tears filled the corners of her eyes. “Family is all we have.”

He slowly nodded. She was no doubt feeling the immense loss of her father. But he had grown up in a family much different from her own.

Turning one of his palms upward, he twined his fingers with hers. And in that moment, he felt as if he was holding on to everything he had.