Read Online Invitation to Scandal by Bronwen Evans - Free Book Online
Authors: Bronwen Evans
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measures. Her mares were in heat. She’d never been afraid to take a risk. Lord Strathmore’s visit, while annoying, couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.
They rode the mares the two miles to Hastingleigh Hall. They stopped outside the paddock to unsaddle the mares and to tie up their tails. Mating horses was a tricky business. If her two mares weren’t impressed with Caesar, there could be a lot of kicking and biting. She wondered if her ladies would accept the impressive stallion. If not, they’d try again tomorrow night. She didn’t want any of the horses hurt. Depending on Caesar’s temperament, this could turn very nasty, very quickly.
Already Caesar had their scent. The mares were giving tiny whinnies of welcome as the huge stallion pranced along the fence line, rearing on his hind legs and tossing his head, nostrils flared, eyes glazed and slightly wild. The sight of the magnificent beast held Rheda immobile for a heartbeat, until she realized they’d best get the mares in the corral before Caesar broke the fence down.
For a woman starting her fourth decade of life, Lady Umbridge was still beautiful enough to have any man wanting to rise to the occasion. For a healthy, red-blooded male in need of a woman, she was indeed tempting. Lady Umbridge, seated on Rufus’s left, would tempt a saint into sinning.
“I have such a sense of déjà vu,” she cooed. “The last time I sat at this dinner table, I was a very young eighteen-year-old newlywed. I was sitting next to the handsome Lord Strathmore then as well.”
Not Rufus. It had been his late father.
Her low throaty voice continued, “I have not had the pleasure of spending enough time with you. Having known your father I am sure we could become firm friends. If given the right incentive.”
She let him know what incentive she meant. Her leg pressed his beneath the table.
Rufus tried to ignore the fact that since her arrival yesterday, Lady Umbridge had been intimating that she’d come to Kent for more than taking the country air. She was on the hunt and she wasn’t after a fox. She’d set her sights on sharing his bed.
There were three reasons the sultry widow did not stir his ardor, despite her creamy skin and perfect complexion.
First, she was far too obvious, and like any hot-blooded male, Rufus excelled in the thrill of the chase. Second, she had committed the ultimate sin and mentioned his father. His father’s last deed before he died had led to the family’s ruin, and Rufus did not need reminding of it. And last, she was the current paramour of Stephen, Lord Worthington, his good friend and co-spymaster.
One did not encroach on another man’s property unless he’d either finished with said property or one was mad with desire. Currently, the only woman driving Rufus mad was a fair-haired gypsy called Rhe. A woman, who, it appeared, was a ghost.
Lady Umbridge leveled hard blue eyes on him. “Of course your father shot himself the very next day. I do hope history doesn’t repeat itself. It would be rather a waste.” And her hand found his thigh.
He reached under the table and removed her hand. “Do not fret. I’ll not be shooting myself tomorrow.” His steely gaze sent a clear message of his disinterest.
Ignoring her flushed face, he turned his attention to the young man directly across the table from him. Baron de Winter had been staring at Lady Umbridge as if he wanted her to become the next course.
That did not bother him. In fact, if Stephen could pawn Lady Umbridge off on this green-behind-the-ears pup all the better.
His eyes narrowed and he took another sip of his red wine. He knew this lad. He looked very familiar. Where had they met before? He could not for the life of him place the baron. He almost never forgot a face or a name. In his line of work, it paid not to. Never mind. He’d corner him after dinner when the gentleman retired.
He speculated on the empty place at the table beside Lord Hale. Turning
They rode the mares the two miles to Hastingleigh Hall. They stopped outside the paddock to unsaddle the mares and to tie up their tails. Mating horses was a tricky business. If her two mares weren’t impressed with Caesar, there could be a lot of kicking and biting. She wondered if her ladies would accept the impressive stallion. If not, they’d try again tomorrow night. She didn’t want any of the horses hurt. Depending on Caesar’s temperament, this could turn very nasty, very quickly.
Already Caesar had their scent. The mares were giving tiny whinnies of welcome as the huge stallion pranced along the fence line, rearing on his hind legs and tossing his head, nostrils flared, eyes glazed and slightly wild. The sight of the magnificent beast held Rheda immobile for a heartbeat, until she realized they’d best get the mares in the corral before Caesar broke the fence down.
For a woman starting her fourth decade of life, Lady Umbridge was still beautiful enough to have any man wanting to rise to the occasion. For a healthy, red-blooded male in need of a woman, she was indeed tempting. Lady Umbridge, seated on Rufus’s left, would tempt a saint into sinning.
“I have such a sense of déjà vu,” she cooed. “The last time I sat at this dinner table, I was a very young eighteen-year-old newlywed. I was sitting next to the handsome Lord Strathmore then as well.”
Not Rufus. It had been his late father.
Her low throaty voice continued, “I have not had the pleasure of spending enough time with you. Having known your father I am sure we could become firm friends. If given the right incentive.”
She let him know what incentive she meant. Her leg pressed his beneath the table.
Rufus tried to ignore the fact that since her arrival yesterday, Lady Umbridge had been intimating that she’d come to Kent for more than taking the country air. She was on the hunt and she wasn’t after a fox. She’d set her sights on sharing his bed.
There were three reasons the sultry widow did not stir his ardor, despite her creamy skin and perfect complexion.
First, she was far too obvious, and like any hot-blooded male, Rufus excelled in the thrill of the chase. Second, she had committed the ultimate sin and mentioned his father. His father’s last deed before he died had led to the family’s ruin, and Rufus did not need reminding of it. And last, she was the current paramour of Stephen, Lord Worthington, his good friend and co-spymaster.
One did not encroach on another man’s property unless he’d either finished with said property or one was mad with desire. Currently, the only woman driving Rufus mad was a fair-haired gypsy called Rhe. A woman, who, it appeared, was a ghost.
Lady Umbridge leveled hard blue eyes on him. “Of course your father shot himself the very next day. I do hope history doesn’t repeat itself. It would be rather a waste.” And her hand found his thigh.
He reached under the table and removed her hand. “Do not fret. I’ll not be shooting myself tomorrow.” His steely gaze sent a clear message of his disinterest.
Ignoring her flushed face, he turned his attention to the young man directly across the table from him. Baron de Winter had been staring at Lady Umbridge as if he wanted her to become the next course.
That did not bother him. In fact, if Stephen could pawn Lady Umbridge off on this green-behind-the-ears pup all the better.
His eyes narrowed and he took another sip of his red wine. He knew this lad. He looked very familiar. Where had they met before? He could not for the life of him place the baron. He almost never forgot a face or a name. In his line of work, it paid not to. Never mind. He’d corner him after dinner when the gentleman retired.
He speculated on the empty place at the table beside Lord Hale. Turning
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