Chapter 6
“Jolly good seat, eh?” Aragon spoke so loudly that half of Hyde Park, including Carenza, must have heard him clearly. “Told you she’d look capital on one of my horses.”
“You were quite correct, brother,” Julian murmured as Carenza’s ears went red.
“Nice seat, good wide hips.” Aragon nodded approvingly. “Ripe for breeding.”
Carenza was wearing a dark blue riding habit cut in the military style and a tall black hat with an ostrich plume that made her look rather like a hussar.
She was an excellent rider, with or without Aragon’s horse under her.
Julian was a competent horseman, but riding was not something he chose to excel at.
He left that to the more sporting gentlemen.
He was quite happy parading up and down Hyde Park, but he rarely hunted.
They had already progressed to the end of Rotten Row and were due to ride back. Julian glanced over at Carenza as she capably shortened her reins and made the turn.
“Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?” he asked as she drew up beside him.
“Surprisingly, yes.” Her smile confirmed her words. “I miss a good gallop.”
“Good Lord.” Julian shuddered slightly. “I don’t.”
“Well, we can’t all enjoy the same things,” Carenza said. “That would make life very dull, indeed.”
He was glad to see that she’d regained her composure after the confrontation with Hector’s cousins the day before. He’d heard nothing further about the matter. He had begun to hope that the new countess had heeded the wisdom of his words and kept her indignation to herself.
Aragon came up along Carenza’s other side. “Care for a race, my lady?”
“Of course!”
“Count us down, brother,” Aragon requested.
Julian obliged and then watched in some satisfaction as Carenza beat Aragon by half a length. He took his time riding toward them and was amused to see that his brother looked rather put out.
He smiled at them both. “Shall we stroll for a while? The grooms can hold the horses.”
“That would be very pleasant,” Carenza said.
After dismounting, Julian walked over and lifted her off the horse, holding her scandalously close to his chest as he let her down. She raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “I did say I’d take every opportunity offered to get close to you, my dear.”
“But not in front of your brother.” Carenza stepped away and gathered her long riding skirt, sliding the end loop around her wrist.
“Aragon wouldn’t notice if I stripped you bare and ravished you right in front of him.”
“I hardly think that’s fair.”
“Trust me.” Julian patted her hand. “He’s too busy wondering how you beat him in a race and whether you really are the right woman for him after all.”
“Hardly, brother.” Aragon came toward them and offered Carenza his arm. “With respect, I was doing the gentlemanly thing and letting the lady win.”
Julian felt Carenza stiffen and hastened to conceal a smile.
“Please don’t hold back on my account, sir,” Carenza said tartly. “I’m quite happy to beat you on your terms.”
“I say, that’s hardly …” As Aragon spluttered, Julian placed Carenza’s gloved hand on his arm and walked into the shade of the trees. “Now, hold on a minute.”
Julian ignored him, and they continued on the path, Aragon sulking behind them.
It was getting busier, and there was no room for them to walk three abreast. Julian acknowledged his acquaintances but didn’t stop to chat, his attention all on Carenza, who appeared her usual serene self.
Aragon paused to speak to a horse-mad duke, and they continued on without him.
“Mr. Laurent.”
Julian stopped only because Lady Brenton was blocking the path, her expression determined. He bowed and recognized her companion at the last minute.
“My lady, Mr. Walcott, how delightful.” He wasn’t entirely happy to see his old mistress and his godmother’s grandson together, but there was little he could do about it. “Are you enjoying the sun?”
“It is very pleasant,” Lady Brenton said. She glanced up at Julian through her eyelashes. “We were just talking about you.”
“I’m impressed that I merited a moment of your time, my lady,” Julian said. “One might think you had far better things to gossip about.”
“Lady Brenton was expressing her sympathy as to the flagrant stealing of my inheritance,” Percival said. “She said she was not surprised at a certain person’s moral ambiguity, as she had experienced it herself.”
Julian met Percival’s gaze. “Be very careful what you say next, sir, because, as you already know to your cost, I am a strong believer in taking liars to court.”
“I mentioned no names, sir,” Percival said. “Perhaps it is your guilty conscience that makes you see an accusation when none is meant.”
“I think we all know exactly to whom you were referring, Mr. Walcott,” Carenza spoke up. “And I, for one, am more than willing to stand up in court and say so.”
Lady Brenton tittered. “I see that you’ve found yourself a new defender, Julian.”
Carenza raised her chin. “As far as I am aware, there has yet to be an occasion when Mr. Laurent has had to defend anything, ma’am, because the courts know his inheritance was completely legitimate. That ‘honor’ belongs to Mr. Walcott, who is prone to making accusations and he has lost every case.”
She inclined her head, and started walking again, her hand still on Julian’s arm. Lady Brenton had the sense to move to one side.
“Good morning,” Carenza said over the sound of Percival’s spluttering. She smiled. “I do hope you both have a splendid day.”
Julian waited until Lady Brenton and Percival were a good distance away before he spoke again. “You didn’t need to defend me.”
“Why not? You are my friend.”
“I am quite capable—”
“I’m well aware of that.” She stopped and looked up at him. “You always stand up for me. Why should I not do the same for you?”
He studied her indignant face. “This might sound ungrateful, but I’ve been attempting to distance myself from Percival’s accusations, and your defense of me in public might rile him up.”
“Oh dear.” Carenza bit her lip. “I didn’t think of that.”
He hastened to reassure her. “I doubt he’ll have the nerve to try the courts again, but seeing him today with Lady Brenton—someone who appears to sympathize with him and egg him on—wasn’t helpful.”
“Did I mention that they called on me?”
“Together?” Julian frowned.
“Yes, Olivia said she met them in the park and felt obliged to bring them with her when she called on me. But their appearance at my home felt more deliberate than that.” Carenza took a deep breath. “Olivia said Lady Brenton is your mistress.”
“Was.”
“Was what?”
“Lady Brenton was my mistress for a short and extremely volatile period before her irate husband tried to kill me.”
“I thought you never bedded happily married women?”
“She said she was a widow, and, as the esteemed Lord Brenton was never seen in society, I made the mistake of taking her at her word.”
“Until he returned from the dead and tried to murder you for seducing his wife.”
Julian stared down at Carenza. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Laughing at the great Julian Laurent? Never.” Carenza grinned at him. “You must admit that it is rather amusing.”
“Not when you’re in the middle of … a certain act, and a man bursts in brandishing a pistol and threatens to shoot off your most prized possession.”
Carenza was laughing so hard that Julian was able to draw her off the path and into the shade of a group of trees before she realized it. He turned her so that they were hidden from view and her back was against a tree.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, but I have to know. How did you get away?”
“I threw Lady Brenton into her husband’s arms, causing him to drop the pistol. While he dealt with her hysterics, I gathered my clothing and left.”
“And he didn’t come after you?”
“He did turn up at my house at some point,” Julian acknowledged. “He had a notion of challenging me to a duel.”
Carenza considered him. “And did he?”
“Not after I’d invited him to watch me shoot.” Julian paused. “In truth, once we’d had a drink together, he was quite amenable to forgetting the whole thing.”
“I find that rather unlikely.”
“Then you underestimate my powers of persuasion, my dear,” Julian said.
“He was well aware of his wife’s predilections and normally tolerated them because he is not in good health and the marriage was not a love match.
He was more annoyed that she had brought a man into his house—which she’d promised not to do—than the fact she was having an affair. ”
“How lucky for you.”
“I am always the luckiest of men.” Julian sounded as if he were mocking himself. “Ask my mother or Percival Walcott.”
“My father always says we create our own luck,” Carenza said. “Perhaps you should take more credit for your actions than you think.”
He studied her for a long moment before leaning in close. “May I kiss you?”
He had an uncanny knack of deflecting the conversation away from himself. Not for the first time, Carenza wondered why. “In a public park, with your brother bearing down on us?”
“Yes.” His gaze grew more intent. “You’re buttoned into a tightly cut riding habit that covers you from your neck to your toes. Your mouth is the only part I can kiss.”
Carenza pretended to sigh. “With such unassailable logic, how can I deny you?”
His kiss, in contrast to the lightness of his tone, was surprisingly direct and intimate. Carenza responded immediately, her tongue clashing with his as he sought mastery of her mouth. She brought her hand up to his neck.
“Tallyho!” Aragon’s loud voice came from the path close to their hiding place.
Julian released her. “As usual, my brother has impeccable timing.” He offered her his hand. “Shall we go and find him? Hopefully he’s gotten over his chagrin about being beaten by a woman and will prove more agreeable company on the way back.”
As soon as Carenza stepped back on the path, Julian let go of her hand.