Duke Looks Like a Groomsman Read online

  “Violet needs to be fed,” she blurted next.

  “With pleasure, milady,” he replied, bowing.

  “What was that?” She cupped a hand behind her ear. Oh, she did adore it when he called her milady. She loved to make him repeat it. She was certain the other servants in the stable were convinced she was hard of hearing, but she didn’t care one whit. It was priceless to make Rhys Sheffield bow to her, and she intended to enjoy every single moment of it.

  Without saying another word, Rhys left with the wheelbarrow again, this time returning with more hay and a bag of grain. He quickly set to work filling Violet’s trough.

  What Julianna hadn’t counted on, however, was that he would spread the hay with his shirt off. He egregiously pulled the garment over his head with both hands and tossed it atop the stall door. She was forced to watch the man’s muscles flexing under a fine coat of perspiration. Her mouth went dry.

  Rhys’s body looked as if it had been sculpted by a master. And having to stare at him from the other side of the stall while he worked was downright disruptive to her thoughts. It irked her. He was doing it just to be detestable. She knew it.

  Very well. He was detestable. She’d never said he was bad looking. In fact, his looks were the least objectionable thing about him. Though she’d die before she admitted that out loud to another living soul.

  The sight of his gleaming muscles made her pull out her handkerchief and blot her forehead. Her temper shortened considerably while he remained shirtless.

  “Too much grain,” she snapped.

  He bowed.

  “Too much hay,” she announced.

  He bowed again.

  “That bit of hay looks dirty,” was next.

  He left and retrieved an entirely new bale of hay that was pristine, which he pitched shirtless again. Julianna had to turn around and pretend to examine the tack wall in order to get a reprieve from staring at his muscles.

  “What next, milady?” His voice made her turn back around.

  What next? What next? “Violet would like an apple, Mr. Worthy. Would you feed her one? With your shirt on, if you please.”

  His grin was downright roguish. He knew he’d affected her. She could tell by the arrogant look on his face. “It would be my pleasure, my lady,” Rhys replied, smiling at her mostly charmingly before retreating to a back room of the stables. He returned moments later wearing a clean shirt and carrying two apples in his hand.

  He bowed again. “I thought perhaps you might like an apple as well, my lady.”

  She arched a brow. “A horse’s apple?”

  “It’s just an apple.” He lowered his voice. “But perhaps you’d like me to feed it to you.”

  She smirked. That proved it. She’d got to him. Good. “Don’t put it past me,” she whispered back.

  One of the other groomsmen walked past. The man doffed his hat and grinned at Rhys. “Good day, Mr. Worthy.”

  Julianna squinted at the man. Was it her imagination or did the servant actually seem pleased to see Worthington?

  “Good day, Oswald,” Rhys called back, waving at the man. “How’s your tooth?”

  Oswald rubbed his jaw. “It’s right as rain ever since I mixed up that poultice ye recommended.”

  “Be certain to use it the rest of the week,” Rhys replied. “Even if your tooth’s feeling better.”

  “I certainly will, Yer Gr—” Oswald had a choking fit for a few moments before clearing his throat and saying. “I, certainly will, er, Mr. Worthy.”

  The man continued on his way and Julianna plunked her hands on her hips and shook her head at Rhys. None of the servants were doing a particularly good job of remembering to call him ‘Mr. Worthy.’ She wondered if they knew she was already aware of his true identity.

  “Are you paying them, too?” she asked Rhys after Oswald had disappeared.

  Rhys cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Not a farthing.”

  “You’re not even paying them to pretend they like you?” she countered.

  Rhys gave her a mock-hurt look. Then his countenance turned serious. “No, unlike some young ladies, they aren’t interested in my money over my friendship.”

  Julianna leaned back, aghast. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, his voice full of scorn.

  She blinked. Of course, it was obvious. He clearly believed she had been friendly to him in the past due to his money. But nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Detestable honestly had the gall to act as if she’d been the one to wrong him? “The only thing obvious to me is that arrogant men apparently need to prove to the world that they can woo women whom they don’t actually want.”

  Rhys opened his mouth to retort when another one of the youngest stablehands came bounding up to him.

  “Mr. Worthy, Mr. Worthy,” the young man said, doffing his hat and bowing to Julianna. “I did what ye said when training that mare this mornin’, and wouldn’t ye know it, she took to it right away. No longer refuses to follow me around the paddock on the lead.”

  “Excellent,” Rhys replied, grinning at the boy. “I’m glad to hear it, Martin. Keep up the good work.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, the boy quickly left, and Julianna turned to stare at Rhys, eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and surprise.

  “What?” Rhys asked, clearly noticing her attention.

  “I just…I suppose I never realized how…good you are…with people. I have to admit you have a knack with both horses and men.”

  A grin spread across his face, displaying his perfect white teeth. “Why, Lady Julianna, is that a compliment?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “I’ll choose to believe you truly mean it,” he said with a chuckle.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. There it was again, the implication that she had been a false friend, or at least had given him false flattery in the past. It was so like Rhys to think he was the wronged party in their falling out. She was the one who had every reason to be hurt and dislike him, not the other way around. She refused to let him twist what had happened between them.

  Finally, he walked to the stall wall, folded his arms atop it, leaned over and said, “What else can I do for you, my lady?”

  Julianna had to admit he’d taken it in stride while she snapped orders at him all morning. He’d even managed to keep a perfectly calm look on his face as he carried out each of her demands. But he was a coddled aristocrat, not a stablehand. There had to be a way to spark his temper. If only she could get him to fly off the handle. Especially when Mr. Hereford was in the vicinity.

  At the moment, however, she was hot, tired, and frustrated. She needed a meal and a chance to think. Not to mention Mama was probably looking for her by now. Julianna needed time to formulate her plot more precisely. She would return to the stables and break him. She simply needed more time.

  “I’m going back to the house now, Mr. Worthy,” she said, giving him a tight smile.

  “So soon, my lady?” he said, his smile as-fake-as-you-please.

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” She hoped it sounded like the threat it was.

  “I cannot wait,” he drawled.

  She batted her eyelashes at him prettily. “In fact, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I’d like you to take my sister and me on a ride to the lake.” She paused and her smile intensified. “Right after dawn.”

  His perfectly charming façade crumbled momentarily before he replaced it with a wide smile. He hated early mornings. He’d told her that once.

  “I look forward to it, milady.” His smile was nearly angelic. She hoped it pained him to be so false.

  Moments later, as Julianna walked back to the manor house, a smile curled her lips. She may not have made him quit yet, but she honestly couldn’t recall the last time she’d had so much fun. Right up until the time he’d implied she’d lied and played him false at least. T
hat was maddening.

  Though she had to admit today had been full of surprises. Not only had Rhys not quit, he hadn’t even balked at the chores she’d asked him to perform. In fact, he’d done them all with something that resembled aplomb. She was almost…impressed. Who knew? Apparently, the Duke of Worthington could work hard when necessary.

  Not only that, but he was charming—not just to young women, as she’d learned to her own detriment last year, but his charm apparently extended to servants as well. They had either greeted him and seemed to genuinely like him or had gone so far as to come looking for him to thank him for his assistance. It truly boggled the mind.

  Very well. The servants liked him. Perhaps it was because they were amused with his playacting as if he were one of them. She refused to allow his seeming friendliness to Clayton’s stablehands to make her forget the months of torture she’d lived through, wondering if he would return from the country, and months of sadness she’d endured after he’d sent her that awful letter.

  There. That was the memory she needed to recall the next time Rhys Sheffield seemed truly likable. The man might be slightly charming and able to perform a few tasks in a stable when called upon, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat. Besides, anyone could endure one morning of work. She would just have to ensure she made things worse for him tomorrow. Much worse.

  Chapter Nine

  Rhys heaved himself onto his side on the small hay-filled mattress. He was sleeping. Or, more correctly, attempting to sleep in his berth above the stables. His head was pounding, and it was deuced uncomfortable, but he had no one to blame for his current accommodations but himself. He’d been the one who’d insisted upon sleeping out here with the other stablehands.

  Kendall was sleeping on the fourth floor of the manor house with the other footmen. Bell was there too. At least they had beds. All he had was this mat on the floor. But Rhys wasn’t about to allow them to say he’d had the upper hand in winning the bet by accepting better sleeping arrangements.

  The hay-filled mat might be a far cry from the downy plushness of the feather-filled mattresses he usually slept upon, but he would make do. Even if tonight’s mattress smelled like a horse’s arse and bits of hay were sticking into every conceivable part of him.

  But the discomfort wasn’t what kept him awake. At least not the physical discomfort. No. He was awake because he couldn’t stop thinking about Julianna. She’d agreed to keep his secret, but he should have known she had a reason for doing so. Money hadn’t interested her. He suspected she was out for revenge. And that’s what bothered him. Not that she thought she could get him to quit and forfeit his bet, but that she apparently felt as if she were the wronged party in what had happened between them last year.

  She was not only title-obsessed, she was also completely mad if she thought he was truly in the wrong. Yes, he’d essentially tossed her over, but he had every reason to do so. It just showed how entitled she was for thinking that of the two of them, he was in the wrong.

  He flipped over on his back and expelled his breath. There was no use fighting it. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. Dawn was probably only a few hours off. No doubt, Julianna had picked dawn just to torture him. He grimaced. He seemed to remember mentioning to her that he and early mornings had never been friends. But one early morning wasn’t about to stop him. He could take anything she threw at him. He refused to give her the satisfaction of making him quit.

  And it wasn’t just her. His friends, too, had ribbed him about being unable to stand the hard work of being a servant. It riled him that no one seemed to believe he was worth a damn other than apparently to be a drunken, gambling lout who just happened to have a duke’s title hanging about his neck. Hadn’t that always been what the papers reported? Hadn’t it always secretly pleased him to make them think they were right? Why was it bothering him now, then?

  The worst part was that he should have known better than to believe Julianna had loved him. His father’s words thundered in his head, making his head ache worse. “Women are nothing more than diversions. Pleasant diversion. At times. But don’t confuse lust for love. That’s a fool’s mistake. When it comes time to pick a bride, choose her based on her family pedigree and nothing else. Lust is for mistresses.”

  Rhys had been fourteen years old when his father had shared that particular bit of wisdom with him. Years of similar conversations had followed. His father had continued dispensing his advice right up until his last breath. Rhys, at twenty-six, had sat next to the old man’s deathbed, dry-eyed and stoic while his father shared his parting advice. “When it comes time to take a bride, my son, it will be the most important business decision of your life. Do not make a mistake.”

  And Rhys thought he hadn’t. He’d actually fallen for Julianna’s lies and flirting. But she’d been ready to toss him over at a moment’s notice. And if there was one thing he abhorred, it was a woman who was only out for money and title. Loyalty was of the utmost importance. He would stand for nothing less than a loyal wife.

  Kendall’s experience with Lady Emily had affected him greatly. Kendall had truly loved Lady Emily, all of his friends knew it. The damn sop was head over heels for the chit and she’d written to him days before their wedding and told him she’d received a better offer and was leaving him. She bloody well had expected him to understand, for the love of God. Kendall’s heart had been broken.

  But when Rhys had heard the news, his heart had hardened. If anyone deserved better, it was Kendall. And now the bloody fool was forced to dress up and playact to find a true bride. It was ludicrous.

  Perhaps Rhys would have his solicitor choose his wife for him. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to care, and neither would she. Though he had years left to enjoy himself before he took that irreversible step.

  That was another thing that angered him when he thought about how close he’d come to tying the parson’s noose around his own neck with Julianna. He’d actually considered marriage at the age of eight and twenty. It was true that he’d had quite a scare last year, but he’d somehow come through it remarkably. He’d been raised to think that fifty would be a more appropriate age to consider fathering his heir. The dukes of Worthington were all long-lived and the last three had produced their heirs past their own middle age. Rhys had every intention of following suit. That is until he’d met Lady Julianna and she’d turned his head so thoroughly. She was an actress and he was a fool.

  And far from frustrating him and making him want to quit, the chores she’d had him do today had actually made him feel useful for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  He tossed again upon the mattress and came down hard on his side, eliciting an oompf from his throat. Damn this uncomfortable bed and damn this bet and damn Julianna for appearing and making it that much more difficult for him to win.

  But if it was the last thing he did, he refused to let her break him.

  Chapter Ten

  Mary was terribly frightened of horses. Julianna had convinced her to come to the stables by promising her a nice long walk by the lake after they ate their breakfast picnic. Mary adored walks by the lake. In fact, she preferred them to nearly all other things.

  Thankfully, during their months of courtship, Rhys had never met Mary. Mary hadn’t been of age at the time, so there had been no occasion for them to meet. It wasn’t as if Julianna and Rhys had been betrothed, after all.

  Mama, however, was certain to notice Rhys if she saw him, and there were few people Mama hated as much as Rhys Sheffield, so Julianna took care not to let Mama know what she and Mary were doing.

  Mama was under the impression that her daughters were going for an early morning stroll through the gardens. She’d no idea they were headed off on a breakfast picnic with a groomsman who was none other than the Duke of Worthington. Not that Mama would believe Julianna if she told her. Why, it sounded ridiculous. What Mama didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, however. And at the moment, Julianna had a duke to persecute.
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  She’d decided that her mistake yesterday may have been in giving him tasks to do that he actually enjoyed. He’d chosen not to be a footman on purpose. So, it stood to reason that if she could make him do tasks more in keeping with those of a footman, namely serving and being endlessly polite and helpful, Rhys just might have a worse time of it.

  To Julianna’s surprise, when she and Mary arrived at the stables, Rhys was not only awake, he was waiting for them with a smile on his face, standing next to a fully outfitted coach and four. Of course, she knew the smile was completely false, but Mary didn’t know that. Having Mary there was perfect. Rhys would be forced to keep that smile plastered to his face all morning. He would also have to remain upon his best behavior. After all, Mary was one of the eligible young women for whom he was playing this game. If Mary learned who he was, he would lose the bet.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Worthy,” Julianna called as soon as she entered the stables and saw him standing there.

  “Good morning, my lady,” he called back in reply. “Are you ready for your excursion?”

  “Instead of the coach, I’d love to ride Alabaster,” Julianna replied, her smile widening. There. Let him set to work immediately having to undo what he’d already done. That would take him no small amount of time, and no doubt frustrate him.

  “Oh, no,” Mary interjected, shaking her head and looking quite worried, “you promised we’d ride in a conveyance, Anna.”

  Poor Mary never would have agreed to come if Julianna had mentioned that she’d wanted to ride. “Very well, Mary. We’ll ride in the coach,” Julianna acquiesced. She didn’t want to frighten her sister.

  Rhys’s smile was downright dazzling as he stepped forward to meet Mary. “And who might this lovely young woman be?”