Rake in the Regency Ballroom: The Viscount Claims His Bride / The Earl's Forbidden Ward

‘What’s the point of having such a splendid vehicle at one’s disposal if one does not make use of it?’Lucien said.

Philippa secretly thought it more likely Lucien preferred the attention the elegant equipage drew as the coachman tooled through Truro. ‘Still, there aren’t many days in the winter when the weather holds for a long ride. It seems a shame to waste one of them,’Philippa replied.

‘Ah, but that’s just it, my dear. I doubt this weather will hold.’ There was a slightly condescending tone to his voice. ‘Certainly, the skies appear safe at midday. But I predict clouds and rain before tea this afternoon.’

Valerian stirred in his seat across from them, a glint in his eye that made Philippa uneasy. ‘You sound quite sure of your prediction, Canton.’

‘I am, St Just. I’ve spent the better part of the year these last few years living here,’ Lucien boasted.

Valerian nodded, gesturing to Beldon and Philippa, ‘I’ve spent, as the rest of us present have, the better part of our lives living here, and I say the weather will hold.’ Valerian glanced out of the window and tilted his head to catch a view of the sky. ‘In fact, I would go so far as to say the sun will show itself by two o’clock.’

‘Care to wager on that?’ Lucien responded.

Philippa stifled a groan. The weather was supposed to be the one safe topic of English conversation. Wasn’t that the rule one learned growing up? Somehow, Valerian and Lucien had turned the weather into a competition as if either of them could control it. Although, if she had to place her bets, she’d bet on Valerian. Lucien knew mining, but Valerian knew the climate. His estate on the Roseland Peninsula contained some of the rarest plants and flowers known to grown in Britain.

‘Twenty pounds,’ Valerian said. ‘The sun shines by two o’clock with no rain until after five, I win. Canton here wins if the sun fails to shine and it rains by tea at four o’clock.’

Beldon broke in, drawing his attention away from the window where it had been riveted for most of the trip. ‘Who wins if the sun doesn’t shine and it doesn’t rain? Or the sun shines, but the rain comes early?’

Oh, lord, not him too? Philippa sent her brother a beseeching stare. Worse, Lucien and Valerian looked as if they were seriously contemplating the developments. By the time they reached Veryan, the two of them would have concocted such an elaborate wager it would be impossible to determine a winner.

‘A draw then,’Valerian declared resolutely. ‘If there’s any discrepancy, it becomes a draw.’

‘Fair enough,’ Lucien concurred.

Philippa shook her head and shot Valerian a scolding glare. He fought back a smile and discreetly turned his head to look out of the window at the passing landscape.

The vicarage was a place of organised chaos when their coach pulled in. Samuel Trist, the new vicar, broke away from a cluster of workmen and strode through the soft mud and dirt to greet them, smiling excitedly. ‘You’re here! This is a great pleasure. I was delighted to get your note yesterday.’

Philippa liked the man immediately. He was tall and lean, moving with a loose-limbed gait. Even though he’d known they were coming, he still wore the cotton flannel clothes of a workman and mud-spattered boots. He stripped off his gloves and ran a hand through the shock of flax-coloured hair that stood on end. She recognised his type immediately. He was the kind of man who forgot all else when set on a project dear to his heart.

‘It was kind of you to let us come on such short notice,’ Philippa said, giving him her hand as she stepped down, glad for her sturdy half-boots and short-skirted walking dress of simple merino wool. She’d guessed correctly that anything more formal would be out of place, although Lucien had quietly disapproved of her informal attire.

‘Watch your step there. Some of the mud is a bit squishy yet,’ Trist advised.

‘Reverend Trist—Viscount St Just. He enjoys horticulture. I immediately thought of your place,’ Lucien said, making the introductions. Lucien surveyed the scene. ‘Quite the ambitious project you’ve got going.’

‘Yes, this is just the beginning. The vicarage had become seriously run-down during my father’s last years. I took over as vicar and decided the place had to be brought up to standard. I want something more fashionable, more up to date.’ Samuel gestured for a man to join them. ‘This is my foreman on the project. He can show you the plans while I show the viscount around. There’s not much out here yet in terms of a formal garden, but I have my hopes.’

Reverend Trist turned to Philippa, seeing that Beldon and Lucien were already poring over the new plans for the house. ‘Your Grace, will you join us?’

Trist walked them through the garden, talking of plants and herbs. He stopped to check the tight, close-budded rhododendrons. ‘Will only be a month and these beauties will pop open.’ He stopped at the edge of the garden. ‘Now here is where I’ve planned a lane of trees.’ He gestured to lines of seedlings strategically placed. ‘There’s copper beeches and evergreen oaks.’ Something twinkled in his eye. ‘Look over there.’ Samuel Trist pointed. ‘That is my pride, a Chilean Pine.’

Valerian was immediately taken with the tree. ‘What a curious species. May I?’ He strode towards the tree, studying it intently with gentle hands. ‘Philippa, come see this!’All formality was forgotten in the wake of his excitement over the exotic tree.

The tree was indeed a curiosity. Dark green in colour and covered with stiff needles, the tree had arm-like branches that stuck out haphazardly, becoming a complex tangle of maze-like arms that took up vast amounts of space. ‘Why, I think it would puzzle even a monkey to climb it!’ Philippa exclaimed, laughing at the intriguing shape of the tree.

‘Perhaps that’s what I’ll call it,’ Samuel Trist said, joining in her merriment. ‘A monkey-puzzle tree. That certainly sounds more exotic than “Chilean Pine.”’

‘I’ve not seen anything like it,’ Valerian said, his tone nearly reverent.

‘I might boast enough to say that if I can get it to grow, it’ll be one of the first planted in Britain,’ Trist said.

‘I’d like to get a cutting of this and have a go at it myself,’ Valerian said. Philippa didn’t miss the excited sparkle in his eye as he contemplated a new plant.

Trist nodded, glad to have found a fellow enthusiast. ‘I need to get back to the vicarage, but feel free to walk farther. There’s a grotto I am currently filling in to make a folly and I’ve got stakes laid out where there will eventually be a man-made lake. The walk is a bit rough this time of year, your Grace. You’re welcome to come back with me,’ he added.

Philippa flashed a look at Valerian. She should go back. Returning to Beldon and Lucien was the safest path to travel. There was no temptation there, just polite conversation. Valerian had proved to be the opposite. In the short time since his return, he’d managed to tempt her passions and her temper, two irreconcilable forces.

It was something of a mystery to her how she could resent the passion he awoke so easily and yet she had continually courted opportunities for him to stoke those same flames.

Valerian’s sharp gaze seemed to sense her hesitation as she weighed her choices. ‘Come with me, Lady Duchess. The weather promises to remain fine and you remarked in the carriage how much you wished to be out of doors. If the path proves too hard, we can turn back.’ He held out his arm in a gesture that brooked no refusal. How could she gracefully decline a gentleman’s arm without turning it into an outright rejection?

Reverend Trist was staring at her, confirming her suspicions that she’d contemplated her situation too long.

She smiled and said with forced brightness, ‘Thank you, St Just. I think a walk is the perfect idea.’

She took Valerian’s arm, telling herself that the bachelor vicar couldn’t see her inner turmoil over the decision or even that he suspected anything amiss. Women took a man’s arm all the time. But it did not escape her notice that the vicar glanced from one to the other before he set off towards the house, trying to understand what had really transpired. Philippa wished him luck with the conundrum, although she doubted he’d succeed where she had failed.

‘Shall we?’ St Just turned them towards the stone-strewn path leading to the folly site, which Philippa thought was aptly named in light of the fact that she’d had very little luck with Valerian when it came to gardens. The last time she’d been alone in one with him, he’d left her with a broken heart that had taken years to patch. She wondered what he’d leave her with today. She could already feel the seams of that patch starting to unravel against all logic and her better judgement.

Chapter Seven

‘You hesitated, Philippa,’ Valerian said matter of factly, guiding her around a large stone in the centre of the path. ‘Did you fear being alone with me?’

‘Don’t overestimate yourself.’ Philippa fought the urge to give an unladylike laugh. ‘I recall the last time we were alone, you ended up with my hand across your face. If either of us should fear being alone with the other, it should be you.’

Valerian tossed her a sideways glance. ‘I must correct you. That wasn’t the last time we were alone. Yesterday, I thought we did very well together. I thought our conversation was quite civil. As for the other time you are referring to, I am still not sure if the slap was meant for me or if I was merely an available target for your own personal frustration.’

The man’s arrogance was phenomenal. But she was thankful for it. Fighting with him was better than wallowing in silence with her fantasies about the man she wished he was. ‘Enlighten me. What would I be frustrated about, if not your outlandish assumption that I was inviting your attentions out there on the balcony?’

They called an implicit truce while Valerian helped her over a small pile of scrim. The path smoothed out and argument resumed. In a detached part of her mind, Philippa thought the scene would be quite funny if played out on stage—their courteous behaviours being interspersed with the contradiction of the verbal spears they hurled.

‘Outlandish?’ Valerian repeated with calculated incredulity. ‘I believe “outlandish” refers to being odd or strange. My dear, I regret to inform you my “assumptions” were anything but “outlandish”. You did not find my “assumptions” strange or odd in the least. Perhaps you’re looking for a different word?’

‘I don’t know what that would be,’ Philippa snapped.

Valerian gave a shrug and a sigh. ‘I don’t know either. Perhaps a word denoting “liking” or “appreciation”? After all, you did like my kisses. Point of fact, you liked them so much, you managed to kiss me back quite thoroughly before you managed to slap me. By the way, I find that deuced unfair—slapping me for your kissing.’

‘No gentleman would ever speak to a lady in such a manner!’ Philippa fumed. The man was more than arrogant. He was a positive boor. ‘How dare you make such assumptions!’

‘Oh, that word again, “assumptions”,’ Valerian parried with feigned blitheness. ‘I think before we go any further we should define precisely what you mean when you say “assumptions”. I’m starting to believe you and I use the word differently.’

Philippa’s temper flared again. ‘If this is your idea of diplomacy, Britain is lucky not to be engaged in a conflict of major proportions.’ She regretted her words instantly. Valerian’s face went strangely blank for a moment, his eyes giving the impression that his thoughts were suddenly far away. The impression was so fleeting that the next moment Philippa wondered if she hadn’t imagined it.

‘But this is not a diplomatic mission, my dear, it is a walk to a folly with an old friend who, frankly, seems a bit confused about her feelings.’

‘You dare too much.’ Philippa stopped and withdrew her hand from his arm, her voice as stiff as her spine. The cad had gone too far. She would argue with him about stolen kisses or ‘assumptions’ or whatever he wanted to call them, but she would not countenance this effort to make their past history her fault. Neither would she let him portray her as a wanton widow eager to bed down with any handsome house guest.