Julia Justiss - The Rake To Ruin Her

‘Mannington said their stamina and speed saved his neck on several occasions,’ Alastair said. After giving her a second, more thorough appraisal, he said, ‘You seem very knowledgeable about your father’s operation.’

‘I’ve helped him with it since I mounted my first pony,’ she responded, pride in her voice. ‘In addition to training the foals, I kept the stud books and sales records, as Papa was more concerned with charting bloodlines than plotting numbers.’

Sympathy softened Alastair’s face. ‘You must miss him very much. My condolences on your loss.’ While, her lips tightening, she nodded a quick acknowledgement, Alastair said, ‘A sad loss for the stud as well. Who is running it now?’

‘I am,’ she replied, lifting her chin. ‘Papa involved me in every aspect of the business, from breeding the mares to weaning the foals to breaking the yearlings and beginning the training of the two-year-olds.’ Her chin notched higher. ‘Denby Stud is my life. But …’ she gestured toward the fishing gear looped across their shoulders ‘… I mustn’t keep you from the trout eager to sacrifice themselves to your lures.’

She turned her mount’s head towards the stable, then paused. ‘I can count on your discretion, I trust?’

‘Absolutely,’ Alastair assured her.

Giving them a quick nod, she touched her heels to the gelding and rode off. Alastair, Max noted with disgruntlement, was following the bounce of her shapely posterior against the saddle as closely as he was, devil take him.

After she disappeared around the curve in the lane, Alastair turned to Max, grinning. ‘Well, well, well. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so silent around a female. Here I thought you’d been moping about, mourning your lost career. Instead, you’re been perfecting your credentials as a rogue, sneaking off to secret assignations with a tempting little morsel like that.’

Max struggled to keep his temper in check. ‘Let me remind you,’ he said stiffly, ‘that “morsel” is one of your mother’s guests and an innocent maid.’

‘Is she truly innocent?’ Alastair shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Lord have mercy, riding astride in breeches like that! I can’t believe I didn’t immediately realise she was female. Just shows how one doesn’t recognise what is right before one’s eyes when one’s not expecting it. Though she is an excellent rider: fine hands, great seat.’ With a chuckle, he added, ‘Wouldn’t mind having her in the saddle, those lovely long legs wrapped around me .’

A flash of fury surging through him, Max whacked his cousin with his fishing pole. ‘Stubble it! That’s a lady you’re insulting.’

‘Fancy her for yourself, do you?’ Alastair asked, unrepentant. ‘With her going about like that, her limbs and bottom outlined for any red-blooded man to ogle, it’s not my fault she evokes such thoughts. Nor are we the only ones watching.’ He pointed toward the opposite side of the field. ‘Some bloke over there is ogling her, too.’

His gaze following the direction of his cousin’s extended arm, Max squinted into the morning sunlight. ‘Who is it?’

‘How should I know? Probably another one of those damned macaroni merchants hanging about, measuring up the female flesh on display. Not a man’s man among them—petticoat-string dandies all,’ he concluded in disgust. ‘But this girl … she’s truly an innocent, you say?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘How do you know so much about her?’

Knowing he’d have to explain, but not wishing to reveal too much—certainly not her scandalous proposition—Max gave Alastair an abbreviated version of his meeting with Miss Denby in the conservatory.

‘Devil’s teeth, she’s a luscious armful in breeches. What a mistress she’d make!’ Alastair exclaimed, then waved Max to silence before he could deliver another rebuke. ‘Don’t get your cravat in a knot; I know there’s no chance of that. She is a “lady”, amazing as that seems to a man seeing her for the first time garbed like that. If marriage is her stepmother’s object, pulling it off is going to be difficult if word gets out of her offending the proprieties by riding about in boy’s dress. Though it would almost be worth wedlock, to get one’s hands on the Denby Stud.’

‘So she fears. She doesn’t want to marry, she said, and risk losing control over it.’

Alastair nodded. ‘I suppose I can understand. One wouldn’t wish to turn such a prime operation over to some hamfisted looby who couldn’t housebreak a puppy.’

‘How infuriating to see everything you’d worked on, worked for, the last ten years of your life given over to someone else. Ruined, perhaps, and you unable to do anything about it.’

Alastair gave him a searching look, as if he thought Max were speaking more about himself than Miss Denby. ‘Well, I wish her luck. She’s an odd lass, to be sure. But undeniably attractive, even without the inducement of the Denby Stud. Now, if we’re going to catch breakfast, we’d better be going.’ At that, Alastair kicked his mount into motion.

Lagging behind for a moment, Max studied the man across the field, who was now striding back toward the stables. He’d better find out who that was. And continue to keep an eye on Miss Denby.

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