Duke Looks Like a Groomsman Page 4

  And just like that, the stablemaster was gone, leaving Julianna standing next to the finest looking horse and (confound it) the finest-looking man she’d ever seen. For the first time in one year, three months, two weeks, and four days, she was alone with Rhys Sheffield.

  Chapter Five

  Rhys had been forced to make a quick decision. Either he could run off and risk forfeiting his bet on the first day—bad-form, that—or he could take his chances and risk Julianna recognizing him. The first choice meant instant failure. The second would at least give him a fighting chance, and he’d always been an admirer of a fighting chance.

  He’d held out the slightest hope that Julianna might not recognize him given the way he was dressed, until he’d made that crack about his looks. Blast it. He simply couldn’t help himself. She’d given him the perfect opening. Her spine had stiffened. Obviously, she remembered his voice. That was interesting. Or at least it might have been if he gave a toss about her anymore. She also was aware of the Arabians. That was interesting as well, but for an entirely different reason. The lady knew her horses.

  He allowed his gaze to take in her form, from the tips of her brown, leather riding boots to the top of her emerald velvet hat that brought out the gorgeous color of her light-green eyes. Eyes he’d once got lost in. Eyes he’d once seen his future in.

  The past year certainly hadn’t served to diminish her beauty any. She was as lovely as ever. Her pert nose, dusky pink lips, and long lashes. She was tall, willowy, and blond, a work of art. A work of art with a gold-digging heart. Seeing her again physically hurt. Like a punch to the gut. He sucked air through his teeth then pasted on his most disarming smile. There was no reason not to be charming after all. He was known for it. If he wasn’t charming it would seem as if —God forbid—he cared.

  She probably hated him. For good reason. The feeling was entirely mutual. But there was absolutely no reason not to be cordial to her. Especially now that she obviously had the upper hand. She was holding the key to his winning or losing his bet. And he couldn’t afford to lose.

  Her voice was low when she spoke. Not exactly a whisper, but low enough to ensure no one would overhear. “It’s been a while, Rhys, but I could have sworn the last time we spoke, you were a duke.” She lifted her chin haughtily.

  “And I could have sworn the last time we spoke, you were someone quite different as well; or at least appeared to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes flashed with anger.

  He realized immediately he’d made a mistake. Damn. He needed to remain nonchalant and not allow emotion into this exchange. “Oh, nothing.”

  “So, you’re a groomsman now?” she continued, batting her eyelashes at him prettily.

  He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying, “Yes, and you’re still disloyal?” Instead, he said, “Temporarily, yes.”

  “Care to tell me what you’re playing at?” She arched a blond brow at him.

  “I’ll tell you, milady, in good time, but first, if you don’t mind, I’d like to escort you from the stables so we may have privacy in the telling.”

  She eyed him warily and then glanced at the horse. “Well, I would love to ride Alabaster.”

  “Of course you would.” He gave her a tight smile. “Excuse me while I saddle him again.”

  Rhys led the horse back to the stall and spent a few minutes putting on the blanket and fastening the girth. He hadn’t needed Mr. Hereford’s instruction on how to properly saddle a horse. He might be a duke, but he wasn’t incompetent when it came to the proper care of horses.

  He might not know how to brush out a suit like his valet or serve from the proper bowl like his footmen, but he damn well knew his way around stables. The stables on his father’s country estate had been his favorite refuge when he was a boy. They were still his favorite place when he went to Worthington Manor.

  As he cinched the girth around Alabaster’s middle, Rhys was distracted with thoughts of Julianna. What the bloody hell was she doing here? And why in the bloody hell hadn’t Clayton seen fit to tell him that she’d be here? That was more than an oversight. He’d have a few choice words for Clayton when next he saw the man.

  Rhys finished preparing the horse with a sidesaddle and brought him back out to where Julianna was standing.

  “Where’s your mother?” he drawled in as unaffected a tone as he could muster.

  “Resting with Mary. I sneaked away.”

  “That sounds right.” He shouldn’t condemn her for it. It had been one of the things he’d liked about her when he’d courted her. She wasn’t the type of young woman to get all marmish and shy about sneaking off to do things that were more fun than sipping tea and dancing the waltz. Not that they’d ever done anything indecent. Well, save for that time in his study, but that had been over quickly and both of them had remained fully clothed. Mostly.

  Rhys came around the side of Alabaster to help Julianna up. He bent low and weaved his fingers together, giving her a step from which to spring. Without demurring, she placed her small booted foot on his hands, and was up in one quick, fluid motion, the horn of the sidesaddle under her knee. She’d always been a good horsewoman, he had to admit reluctantly. That had been another thing he’d liked about her when they were courting.

  A whiff of her perfume had struck his nostrils as he’d helped her up. The memory the scent of lilacs evoked made him clench his jaw. It was a bouquet that used to make him hard. This time, it just made him angry.

  A few minutes later, he swung himself up on his own mount, a less majestic gelding from Clayton’s stable. He motioned for the lady to go ahead of him from the building.

  He watched her from behind. An incomparable lady riding an incomparable horse. She sat perfectly straight atop Alabaster. Even he had to admit, they made quite a pair. Meanwhile, Rhys was racking his brain trying to come up with something to tell her about why he was pretending to be a groomsman. He intended to offer her money to keep her silence, of course. He’d use some of the winnings from the bet to pay her off. But he knew her well enough to know that she would ask questions, and he had better be ready with believable answers.

  “Would you care to ride to the tree line and back?” he asked as soon as they’d cleared the barn and the fence. The farther they were from the stables, the better the chance of not being overheard. She shouldn’t ride out with him, of course, not without a chaperone, but he was not a duke courting a young lady. He was a groomsman escorting a house guest on a ride. It was actually much more acceptable this way.

  She shot him a look over her shoulder that clearly indicated she didn’t trust him.

  “We’ll be in full view of the stables the entire way,” he offered by way of appeasing her apprehension.

  “Very well. I’ll see you there.” She leaned down, kicked her heel, and set the glorious Arabian off at a fine clip.

  Rhys had barely realized that she’d challenged him to a race before she was off. He immediately spurred his own mount into action to catch up. In addition to being a fine horsewoman, she was competitive, too. He remembered that about her. He’d adored that about her. Some would say he was competitive to a fault, and being around Julianna had never bored him the way his time with other young women had.

  Whether they’d been playing a card game, skipping stones in a pond in Hyde Park, or racing each other on horseback, Julianna had given as good as she got and never tried to use her sex as a reason for an allowance. She’d managed to beat him a time or two, and that had perhaps been the most thrilling of all. A woman who didn’t back down, who was as competitive as he was, and who didn’t try to lose in order to assuage his masculinity. Why, he’d never met anyone like her before. Or at least he thought he hadn’t until he realized she was only interested in him for his dukedom. She’d probably been acting the entire time. Was she acting now? She no longer had a reason to.

  As he galloped along behind her toward the tree line, Rhys couldn’t help but admire her form. She
rode with confidence and mastered the reins. Her style spoke of years of experience on horses. It had been one of their favorite subjects while he was courting her, to discuss horseflesh.

  Blast it. Why did he keep thinking about their courtship? It was history. Water under the proverbial bridge. It meant nothing to him anymore and he bloody well knew it never had meant anything to her, so why was his head filling with all of these memories of a sudden?

  Damned if she didn’t beat him to the tree line. Although he’d managed to make up a considerable length, she was riding a much finer mount. Of course, a less experienced rider still would have lost to him. He grudgingly had to admit she deserved the win.

  “I won,” Julianna announced the moment she slowed Alabaster to a soft trot along the fence that ran in front of the trees.

  “What did you win?” The devil made him say it. The devil was so often making him say things.

  “The race,” she replied, a smug look on her face.

  “Oh, were we racing?” he asked in the most nonchalant voice he could muster.

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know it,” she said with a sly grin. One that he remembered. One that made him want to look away.

  “Very well, you won. What is my forfeit?” There was that devil again. Sneaky bastard.

  Julianna’s horse came to a stop and she dismounted using the fence posts. She continued to slowly walk Alabaster, while rubbing his flank and gently talking to the beautiful horse. Rhys dismounted too and soon tied both horses to one of the fence posts. Then he turned to face Julianna.

  Her green eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and probably pride. “I’d say your forfeit should be telling me why you’ve decided to take up a new profession.”

  Rhys pushed his long hair away from his face with his fingers. He clearly had two choices. He could lie to her or he could tell her the truth. Julianna was clever and shrewd. It would be waste of time to lie to her and try to get her to believe some silly tale about why he was pretending to be a groomsman. No, the most expedient way to get Julianna to help him would obviously be to explain to her what was in it for her.

  “I need you to keep the secret,” he said. There. A lob across the bow. Just to see her reaction.

  Her brow furrowed. “It’s a secret that you’re pretending to be a groomsman?”

  “Well, not to everyone. The other groomsmen and the stablemaster all know.”

  “What about the coachmen?” she asked with an irrepressible grin.

  “All the servants are aware,” he clarified, placing his hands on his hips.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him warily. “I cannot imagine Lord Clayton doesn’t know.”

  “Of course, he knows,” Rhys replied, tilting his head to one side.

  “Then who, precisely, are you trying to keep it from?” She put a pretty smile on her face and batted her dark eyelashes again.

  “The guests,” Rhys announced.

  “The guests?” Her eyebrows raised and her countenance dripped with skepticism. “Why the guests?”

  He expelled a breath. “It’s complicated and it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I’ll make it worth your while if you play along and don’t tell anyone who I am.”

  “Worth my while?” She narrowed her eyes and took a step toward him. “I must admit. I cannot wait to hear what you think would be ‘worth my while.’”

  Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, he leaned back against a nearby tree. “Money, of course.”

  She laughed out loud at that, her arms falling to her sides. “You’re offering to pay me for my silence?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re refusing?”

  She pulled the crop between her fingers. “I don’t know if I’m refusing or not. First, I’d like to hear why you’re pretending to be a groomsman, especially since the others in the stables already know who you are. Did you pay all of them as well?”

  Rhys had to smile at that. “No, they are keeping the secret as a favor to their employer, Clayton.”

  He pushed himself off the tree and grinned at her.

  “Very well. Why exactly do you want the other guests to think you’re a groomsman?” she asked sweetly, lightly slapping the crop into her gloved palm.

  Rhys paced in front of her. She had a way of making the whole thing sound even more ludicrous than it already was. “Does it truly matter?”

  Julianna shrugged. “Perhaps not, but you’re requesting my help, so I feel as if I have the right to know.”

  He braced a hand on the fence post. “How much do you want?” The words came out much more harshly than he’d meant them to.

  She arched a brow. “How much are you willing to pay?”

  “Don’t play coy, Julianna. It doesn’t suit you. How much money will it take for you to keep your silence? To pretend you never saw me? To act as if I’m just a groomsman named Mr. Worthy for the remainder of the house party?”

  She moved back toward Alabaster and rubbed his flank. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

  Rhys tossed a hand in the air. “Of course, I’m serious.” Damn it. He was letting her spark his temper. He needed to take a deep breath.

  She turned to look at him, eyes wide. “You truly believe you can pay me for my silence?”

  “Is there something else you’d prefer to money?” he drawled, hands back on his hips. His patience was quickly growing short.

  A sly smile curved her perfect lips. “Oh, yes, actually, there is.”

  Chapter Six

  At the dinner table that evening, Julianna sat between her mother and sister and could think of little else than her conversation with Worthington at the tree line that afternoon. If anyone had told her a sennight ago that she would have had the most insane discussion today with Rhys Sheffield of all people, she scarcely would have believed it.

  But now she pushed the roasted goose around her plate, completely without appetite, unable to think about anything other than what the devil Worthington was doing out in the stables pretending to be a groomsman.

  The man had had the audacity to offer her money. She could almost laugh again. As if money was what she wanted from him. Hardly. She didn’t need money. She wanted for nothing. Her father was wealthy, and she was about to marry one of the richest men in the ton. No. No. She didn’t want money from Rhys Sheffield.

  She wanted…revenge.

  Of course, she hadn’t blurted that out to him. She wasn’t witless. She had told him she would keep his secret for the price of him telling her exactly why he was pretending to be a groomsman. And she made it clear that nothing but the absolute truth would do. She was fully confident in her ability to discern whether he was telling the truth. For two reasons. One, she’d always been good at reading people and two, he wasn’t a particularly adept liar.

  He’d been none too pleased with that request. He’d offered her an exorbitant amount of money for her silence instead. But that offer merely served to inform her that he was desperate to keep his secret, which made her all the more interested in learning it. Money meant little to her. Revenge meant everything. Revenge on the man who had broken her heart into a thousand little pieces. That was without price. And if she could learn why he was pretending to be a servant, she just might be able to thwart his purposes and thereby exact her revenge. Revenge that had been long in coming.

  Julianna stared absently at the portrait of Lady Clayton that hung above the fireplace in the dining room as her mind drifted back to many months ago. The last time she’d seen Rhys.

  It had been an unseasonably cool May night when she’d stolen out of the Cranberrys’ ball to meet Rhys on the veranda. She was wearing a violet-colored gown with a high waist, and tiny flowers embroidered along the sleeves and hem. During their dance earlier, Rhys had asked her to meet him here and time seemed to move with infinite slowness during the hour she’d been forced to wait.

  She rushed out into the cool air, nearly breathless with anticipation. Rhys had be
en standing there, near the balustrade. One hand in his waistcoat pocket. He was wearing black superfine evening attire with a snowy white cravat. His black hair had been slicked back and his dark-blue eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He looked so handsome she’d wanted to hurtle herself into his arms. Instead, she forced herself to slow her pace and make her way toward him gracefully. Thankfully, they were alone.

  “Rhys,” she’d breathed as he took her hands in his and pulled her close.

  “Julianna,” he’d answered, resting a hand possessively on her hip.

  They’d begun calling each other by their Christian names ever since the night she’d sneaked into Rhys study during a dinner party and he’d found her there. She had hurtled herself into his arms that night, and Rhys had had to be the one to break off their encounter before it went too far.

  “I’m glad I have the chance to see you before I go,” he breathed.

  A frown covered Julianna’s face. “Go?” She shook her head. Where was he going? Why?

  “Yes, unfortunately, I must go to the country tomorrow to…visit my mother.” His hand fell away from her hip.

  “I see,” Julianna answered. She was disappointed to hear that he was leaving, but surely, he wouldn’t stay away long.

  “I promise to return as quickly as possible,” he said, sincerity in his eyes.

  She opened her little violet satin reticule and took out a handkerchief. One she’d sprayed with the lilac water she used as perfume. “Take this,” she said, handing him the handkerchief. “To remember me.”

  He’d taken the slip of fabric from her hand and squeezed it tightly before putting it to his nose and then tucking it inside his coat pocket. “Julianna, sweet Julianna, how could I ever forget you?”

  Those had been the last words he’d said to her. He’d touched her cheek and let his gaze rove over her face as if he was studying her to remember. He’d left her moments later, standing on the balcony alone.