Duke Looks Like a Groomsman Read online

  “Of course, of course, Yer Gra—” Mr. Hereford caught himself and smiled. “Mr. Worthy.”

  “It’ll be especially important when any of the guests are in the stables. And some of them may know who I am so if I’m scarce for a bit, you’ll know why.”

  “Understood,” Mr. Hereford replied.

  “But I want you to treat me like any other groomsman. I will do my chores and help out around here like everyone else. In fact, I insist upon it.”

  “Yes, my lor—” Another smile from Mr. Hereford.

  Rhys hoisted the bag he carried on his back. “I didn’t even bring a trunk. Just this bag with a few belongings. If you’ll be so kind as to point me to where I’ll sleep, I’ll unpack.”

  “Ye’re gonna sleep out ‘ere, my lo— Mr. Worthy?” the stablemaster asked, looking more than a bit confused.

  “Yes, of course,” Rhys replied. “Where do the other stablehands sleep?”

  Mr. Hereford pointed to staircase. “Up there. Any open berth will do, I suppose.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hereford. I’ll be back momentarily, and you may show me what chores I should expect to be responsible for.”

  Mr. Hereford shook his head and turned to leave. But before Rhys had a chance to make it to the staircase, he turned back to look at him. “May I ask ye one more question, Yer Grace? Er, Mr. Worthy?”

  “Of course,” Rhys replied.

  “Lord Clayton didn’t say and the rest of us, we’re dying ta know. Why exactly are ye doing this?”

  “Can’t you guess, Mr. Hereford?” Rhys responded with a laugh. “We have a bet. A bet for quite a bit of money.”

  Mr. Hereford shook his head again and laughed. “Ye’re right. I should ‘ave guessed.”

  “Now may I ask you a question?” Rhys replied.

  “O’ course,” the stablemaster responded amiably.

  “Do many of the guests come out to the stables when you have this house party? Particularly the debutantes?”

  “I wouldn’t say many,” Mr. Hereford replied, tapping a finger on his chin. “But there’s usually one or two wot loves horses more than tea and gossip.”

  Rhys nodded and turned to climb up the steps. He knew a lady like that, but surely, she wouldn’t be at this house party. At least he bloody well hoped not.

  Chapter Two

  Julianna Montgomery looked out toward the tables from her second-floor bedchamber at Viscount Clayton’s estate. She and her sister Mary had been placed in one room and Mama in the adjoining one. They’d arrived for the house party just this morning and Mama had insisted they ‘rest.’

  Julianna had always disliked resting. It was so very uninteresting. She’d much rather be out riding. She traced her fingers along the cool glass of the window and stared off across the gardens and meadow beyond the back of Lord Clayton’s estate.

  Clayton’s stables were renowned in the ton. Julianna couldn’t wait to get out and see them. If the rumor mill was to be believed, two of his mounts were descended from the famous Godolphin Arabians. The only other nobleman she knew who had a descendant of the Godolphins was… Ugh. The odious, awful, lying Duke of Worthington, also known as Detestable.

  Julianna shook her head, chiding herself for thinking of him. He wasn’t worth her thoughts. She’d decided that at the beginning of the last Season—ahem—her third Season. The fact that Detestable was the reason for her being unengaged during her third Season still made her nostrils flare. If that despicable, lying, disingenuous… No! That was not helping. Insults still counted as thinking of him, and she refused to do so.

  What had she been thinking about before Detestable had entered her thoughts? Oh, yes, horses. The Arabians. They were the only reason she’d agreed to accompany Mama and Mary on this particular jaunt to the countryside after all. Well, that and the fact that Mary had asked for Julianna’s help looking for a match. Julianna no longer needed to look for herself now that she was well and truly engaged to the most eligible man in the ton. Thank you very much.

  Fine, perhaps the Marquess of Murdock was the third most eligible if one was being precise. In truth, the good-for-nothing Duke of Worthington was the most eligible, but he was a rogue and a scoundrel and a—not helping!

  The second most eligible gentleman was the Marquess of Bellingham, but he didn’t count either. For one reason, he was a confirmed bachelor who’d never expressed the slightest interest in marriage. For another, it was rumored he worked for the Home Office and was deeply engaged in his work. But even if those other two things weren’t true, the Marquess of Bellingham was the closest friend of Detestable and that alone made him completely unacceptable to her. Julianna wanted nothing to do with that odious man.

  She’d spent her first Season pining after him and her second Season being wooed by him. Everyone who was anyone within the ton had been convinced an engagement between them was imminent. It had even been hinted about in the paper. The Times for heaven’s sake. So when the duke left for the countryside quite suddenly, directly before the end of her second Season, a bit over a year ago, it had been a shock to everyone, including Julianna, when not only had Worthington not offered for her, but he’d cut off their acquaintance entirely.

  The last time she’d heard from him, in fact, had been in the form of a poorly written letter many months after his departure, that had offered few details as to his change of heart and absolutely no mention of when she might see him again.

  She’d spent a good portion of the first half of her third Season searching every crowd and guest list for him. It wasn’t until the Season was half over that Mama, bless her, had sat her down and given her the talk. The one Julianna had needed all along. The one in which Mama reminded Julianna that she had two choices in life. She could sit around waiting for Worthington to reappear, or she could act like a true Montgomery and get about the business of securing the next most eligible match.

  “He’s not worth your thoughts,” Mama had said during the talk, giving Julianna her new chant, one she repeated to herself over and over in the weeks to come. “Let alone you wasting your best months for him.”

  Julianna may have gone to her bed that night the tossed-over, would-be intended of the Duke of Worthington, but she’d awakened the next morning the determined, future-intended of the Marquess of Murdock. Murdock was handsome, rich, and charming. Who cared if he wasn’t quite as handsome, rich, and charming as Detestable?

  Julianna had gone on to meet her goal splendidly. By the time her third Season was not three-quarters through, she’d secured her match with Murdock and only suffered a bit of chagrin when the papers implied she’d landed the next best bachelor, having let Worthington somehow slip through her fingers.

  It irked her of course, but Murdock had never mentioned it, so what did it matter? It had all been quite tidy, really. Much less trouble than she’d expected. The best part was, now that she was officially betrothed, with her wedding planned for next spring, she could relax at this house party and ride horses as much as she liked, in addition to helping Mary secure a match, of course.

  After a promising first Season, her younger sister still had yet to receive an offer, a mistake that would be quickly rectified if Julianna had any say in it. However, first things first.

  Julianna glanced at her sister lying on the bed across the room. Her sister’s blond hair was fanned across the pillow. Her hazel eyes closed. Yes, Mary was dutifully asleep, and Mama was probably reading. It was the perfect opportunity to find those Arabians.

  Besides, there would be time to look for an eligible gentleman for Mary later, at dinner this evening, perhaps. Despite being close friends with Lord Clayton, the Duke of Worthington never attended Clayton’s late summer house party. Julianna had looked into the matter before agreeing to come, of course. Apparently, Detestable didn’t care for parties filled with debutantes and their mamas. All the better for her.

  Julianna glanced around the darkened bedchamber. Mary’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took while
sleeping. A smile curled Julianna’s lips. “I think I’ll just go down to the stables,” she whispered to herself. “And see about getting a mount.”

  Chapter Three

  A grin covered Rhys’s face as he stood in the stables rubbing down Alabaster from his earlier ride. First, he would buy a new phaeton. Then, perhaps a set of matching grays to pull it. A new wardrobe would be welcome. And he’d been meaning to do a few things to his property in Kent.

  Yes. The money Rhys won from the bet would be welcome, indeed. But even better than spending the money would be winning the money. That part was always his favorite. He’d be gracious, of course, informing his friends that they’d put up a good show. Then he would take every single farthing from them. Finally, he’d jaunt down to Hollister’s for a bit of sport with his winnings. Mustn’t disappoint the gossip rags.

  Alabaster stamped his hooves and neighed. Rhys petted the horse’s head and spoke softly in his ear. When Clayton had informed Rhys that groomsmen didn’t actually ride the horses unless they had to, Rhys had reluctantly agreed. Or appeared to at least. But there was little chance that Rhys would be in the presence of one of Clayton’s fine Arabians and not take a ride. Besides, what Clayton didn’t know was unlikely to hurt him, wasn’t it? Rhys already had an understanding with Mr. Hereford to that effect. Mr. Hereford was an excellent stablemaster, indeed.

  It also didn’t hurt that all the other groomsmen, stable boys, and coachmen already knew Rhys was the Duke of Worthington. He’d told them, of course. The bet hadn’t called for him not to. The only people who mustn’t realize he wasn’t a groomsman were the guests at the party, the young ladies, specifically, and that would prove simple enough to avoid. He’d been here all day and had yet to see even one young lady in the stables, and the young ladies had been arriving all morning.

  It was quite safe actually. The house was full of a lot of simpering debutantes. There was little chance a pampered, chaperoned young woman would come traipsing out to the stables by herself. He grimaced. He’d only ever known one young lady who would do such a thing, and it was highly unlikely that that particular young lady was here. She was engaged to be married, after all. No longer looking for a husband. In fact, she was to be the future Marchioness of Murdock.

  Rhys clenched his jaw. He always clenched his jaw when he thought of her. He had to admit, she’d done well for herself. If she couldn’t be a duchess, she’d made the next best match, just like the Times had reported. A scowl curled Rhys’s lip. It made his stomach tighten to think how close he’d come to offering for the beautiful but scheming Lady Julianna Montgomery.

  But as disgusted as he was with Lady Julianna, Rhys was even more disgusted with himself. He’d been the fool who’d fancied himself falling in love with the chit.

  Love? Ha. He’d known his entire life that emotion didn’t exist. Hadn’t his father told him enough? And yet courting Julianna all those months ago had made him feel things he’d never felt.

  It was a good thing he’d been called away when he had. He’d bloody well been on the verge of offering for her. In fact, it hadn’t been until after the accident, after it had all been too late, that his valet had read that fateful copy of the Times to him. John had got in the habit of reading him the paper every day. He’d recited the story about the gorgeous Lady Julianna Montgomery and how she’d been forced to set her sights on Murdock, having let the last eligible duke slip through her fingers.

  Rhys had nearly vomited that day. He’d given John some excuse for needing to be alone, and he’d nearly wretched into his wash bowl. It had taken him several minutes to pull himself together and steel his resolve. Lady Julianna had been an excellent actress, nothing more, and his own damned desire to be noble and do the right thing for once—a desire she’d inspired in him, ironically—had kept him from offering for her before he left that spring.

  And after—after—offering for her had been out of the question. Or at least it had been until…recently. But she’d done him a courtesy. She’d gone and betrothed herself to someone else. Well, Murdock could have the actress. Rhys would do quite fine remaining a bachelor.

  “Yes, milady,” Mr. Hereford’s voice rang out from the entrance to the stables. “One of the Arabians be right over there. I’m certain our newest groomsman, Mr. Worthy, will be ‘appy ta show ‘im ta ye.”

  Rhys smiled as he brushed the horse’s side one last time. Mr. Hereford had obviously raised his voice so Rhys would hear that one of the young ladies from the house party had arrived. Time for his first performance. He just hoped whoever her chaperone was didn’t recognize him. At any rate, he could pretend as well as Kendall and Bell.

  Rhys cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and put on his most charming and devilish smile. The one that was certain to make this young lady swoon. He rounded the back of the horse to come out of the stall and greet her.

  The moment he saw her, he felt both the charm and the devilishness slide right off his face. She sauntered toward him in an emerald-green riding habit and dark-brown leather boots, with a crop in her hand. Of all the ladies in the world, what in the bloody hell was Lady Julianna Montgomery doing here? She was no debutante!

  Chapter Four

  Julianna stopped walking when the groomsman brought the Arabian toward her. The man’s face was hidden on the far side of the impressive horse.

  “Here he be,” called the stablemaster. “Alabaster.”

  Julianna allowed her gaze to travel the horse. His high crest, his elegant back, his fine flank, his lovely strong legs, his glorious hooves. “Oh, look at him,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands and the crop to her chest. “He is magnificent, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” came an arrogant, deep, and somewhat familiar-sounding voice from the other side of the horse. “And the horse isn’t bad either.”

  Julianna blinked, then narrowed her eyes. Had she heard the man correctly? Of all the impudent, arrogant, inappropriate things for a groomsman to say. Something about the voice made the skin on the back of her neck tingle, however. She knew that voice.

  She swallowed. Hard. Bless it. What in the devil was he doing here?

  Julianna took a deep reassuring breath just as Rhys Sheffield stepped out from the other side of the horse. He executed a deep bow. “My lady.”

  Julianna blinked again. What was this? Why in the world was he dressed as a… a…groomsman? She tilted her head to the side, staring at him as if either he or she had lost their mind. Surely one of them had.

  “Lady Julianna,” the stablemaster said. “This is Alabaster.” He pointed to the horse. “And this is our newest stablehand, Mr. Worthy.” He pointed to the man. The stablemaster’s eyes darted to and fro and he tugged at his collar, looking quite uncomfortable. Obviously, the man didn’t think for a moment that the duke standing next to them was a blessed stablehand. What exactly was going on here?

  Julianna was just about to open her mouth to say something about the ludicrousness of it all when Rhys caught her eye, shook his head ever so slightly as if trying to tell her to remain quiet and announced, “A pleasure, my lady. I’m completely at your service. Your slightest wish is my command.”

  It was the way that he emphasized the two words that made Julianna’s breath catch in her throat, while a tingle of apprehension—dare she think, excitement?—shot down her spine. She snapped her mouth shut. Turning back toward the stablemaster, she searched his face, but all trace of irony had disappeared. Her gaze moved back and forth between the two men, examining them.

  She clearly saw the silent plea in Rhys’s cobalt-blue eyes, begging her to play along at least for the time being. Something was amiss here. Something significant, but if her instincts weren’t mistaken, she was about to be afforded a priceless opportunity: to treat Rhys Sheffield like a servant.

  Julianna crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She narrowed her gaze on him and eyed him up and down from the tip of his boots to the top of his head. Damn him. The man was every bit as good looking as
he’d been the last time she’d seen him. More so perhaps, with the slightest bit of gray in his black hair and a few new wrinkles at corners of his eyes. He was just as fit and tall and oh-this-was-not-helpful.

  Just what sort of a game was he playing? She didn’t trust him. Not for one moment. But her curiosity overcame her frustration. She would play along. For now. Oh, yes, she would. A grin she could not stop spread itself wide across her lips. She cupped a hand behind her ear feigning a hearing problem.

  “What was that, my good man?” Meeting Rhys’s eyes, she hoped she conveyed the proper amounts of both I’m-going-to-torture-you and I-plan-to-enjoy-it. “Something about my wishes?”

  He bowed again. His voice, when it came, had a deep timbre that made her insides quake with some old feeling she did not want to explore. “Your slightest wish, milady, is my command.” As he straightened again, she saw an unmistakable sparkle in his eye. And somehow, he’d managed to make the entire sentence sound positively obscene.

  Oh, he was up to something all right. What was it?

  Confound him. He was just as bold and arrogant and confident and oh, he was everything he used to be. How had she ever found him attractive? Very well. He was good-looking to be certain, but his manners left much to be desired and she’d never met a man more in love with himself. Detestable!

  She would want to slap his handsome face, but that would mean she cared, and she positively did not care. Not anymore. She’d made a new match. A better one. Perhaps not with a duke, but with someone who was consistent and true. Someone altogether unlike Rhys Sheffield.

  Before Julianna had a chance to reply, the stablemaster mumbled something under his breath about getting back to his duties and took off in another direction, his coattails flapping behind him.