Four In Hand Read online

  “Very!” The curt tone in Hugo’s deep voice was not very encouraging.

  Nothing loath, Martin plunged on. “Waltz around, tying us all in knots. What exactly happened when Arabella masqueraded as that Polish countess?”

  To his amazement, Hugo coloured. “Never you mind,” he said, then, at the hopeful look in Martin’s eyes, relented. “If you must know, she behaved in a manner which…well, in short, it was difficult to tell who was seducing whom.”

  Martin gave a burst of laughter, which he quickly controlled at Hugo’s scowl. By way of returning the confidence, he said, “Well, I suppose I may as well tell you, as it’s bound to be all over town all too soon. I’m on my way to beg Max’s permission to pay my addresses to Lizzie Twinning.”

  Hugo’s mild eyes went to Martin’s face in surprise. He murmured all the usual condolences, adding, “Didn’t really think you’d be wanting to get leg-shackled just yet”

  Martin shrugged. “Nothing else for it. Aside from making all else blessedly easy, it’s only as her husband I’d have the authority to make certain she didn’t get herself involved in any more hare-brained schemes.”

  “There is that,” agreed Hugo ruminatively. They continued for a space in silence before Martin realized they were nearing Delmere House.

  “Where are you headed?” he enquired of the giant by his side.

  For the second time, Hugo coloured. Looking distinctly annoyed by this fact, he stopped. Martin, puzzled, stopped by his side, but before he could frame any question, Hugo spoke. “I may as well confess, I suppose. I’m on my way to see Max, too.”

  Martin howled with laughter and this time made no effort to subdue it. When he could speak again, he clapped Hugo on the back. “Welcome to the family!” As they turned and fell into step once more, Martin’s eyes lifted. “And lord, what a family it’s going to be! Unless I miss my guess, that’s Darcy Hamilton’s curricle.”

  Hugo looked up and saw, ahead of them, Lord Darcy’s curricle drawn up outside Delmere House. Hamilton himself, elegantly attired, descended and turned to give instructions to his groom, before strolling towards the steps leading up to the door. He was joined by Martin and Hugo.

  Martin grinned. “Do you want to see Max, too?”

  Darcy Hamilton’s face remained inscrutable. “As it happens, I do,” he answered equably. As his glance flickered over the unusually precise picture both Martin and Hugo presented, he added, “Am I to take it there’s a queue?”

  “Afraid so,” confirmed Hugo, grinning in spite of himself. “Maybe we should draw lots?”

  “Just a moment,” said Martin, studying the carriage waiting by the pavement in front of Darcy’s curricle. “That’s Max’s travelling chaise. Is he going somewhere?”

  This question was addressed to Darcy Hamilton, who shook his head. “He’s said nothing to me.”

  “Maybe the Twinnings have proved too much for him and he’s going on a repairing lease?” suggested Hugo.

  “Entirely understandable, but I don’t somehow think that’s it,” mused Darcy. Uncertain, they stood onthe pavement, and gazed at the carriage. Behind them the door of Delmere House opened. Masterton hurried down the steps and climbed into the chaise. As soon as the door had shut, the coachman flicked his whip and the carriage pulled away. Almost immediately, the vacated position was filled with Max’s curricle, the bays stamping and tossing their heads.

  Martin’s brows had risen. “Masterton and baggage,” he said. “Now why?”

  “Whatever the reason,” said Darcy succinctly, “I suspect we’d better catch your brother now or he’ll merrily leave us to our frustrations for a week or more.”

  The looks of horror which passed over the two faces before him brought a gleam of amusement to his eyes.

  “Lord, yes!” said Hugo.

  Without further discussion, they turned en masse and started up the steps. At that moment, the door at the top opened and their prey emerged. They stopped.

  Max, eyeing them as he paused to draw on his driving gloves, grinned. The breeze lifted the capes of his greatcoat as he descended the steps.

  “Max, we need to talk to you.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “You can’t leave yet.”

  With a laugh, Max held up his hand to stem the tide. When silence had fallen, he said, “I’m so glad to see you all.” His hand once more quelled the surge of explanation his drawling comment drew forth. “No! I find I have neither the time nor the inclination to discuss the matters. My answers to your questions are yes, yes and yes. All right?”

  Darcy Hamilton laughed. “Fine by me.”

  Hugo nodded bemusedly.

  “Are you going away?” asked Martin.

  Max nodded. “I need a rest. Somewhere tranquil.”

  His exhausted tone brought a grin to his brother’s face. “With or without company?”

  Max’s wide grin showed fleetingly. “Never you mind, brother dear. Just channel your energies into keeping Lizzie from engaging in any further crusades to help the needy and I’ll be satisfied.” His gaze took in the two curricles beside the pavement, the horses fretting impatiently. “In fact, I’ll make life easy for you. For all of you. I suggest we repair to Twyford House. I’ll engage to remove Miss Twinning. Aunt Augusta and Mrs. Alford rest all afternoon. And the house is a large one. If you can’t manage to wrest agreement to your proposals from the Misses Twinning under such circumstances, I wash my hands of you.”

  They all agreed very readily. Together, they set off immediately, Max and his brother in his curricle, Lord Darcy and Hugo Denbigh following in Darcy’s carriage.

  ———

  The sound of male voices in the front hall drifted to Caroline’s ears as she sat with her sisters in the back parlour. With a sigh, she picked up her bonnet and bade the three despondent figures scattered through the room goodbye. They all looked distracted. She felt much the same. Worn out by her difficult morning and from tossing and turning half the night, tormented by a longing she had tried valiantly to ignore, she had fallen asleep in the hammock under the cherry trees. Her sisters had found her but had left her to recover, only waking her for a late lunch before her scheduled drive with their guardian.

  As she walked down the corridor to the front hall, she was aware of the leaping excitement the prospect of seeing Max Rotherbridge always brought her. At the mere thought of being alone with him, albeit on the box seat of a curricle in broad daylight in the middle of fashionable London, she could feel that other Caroline Twinning taking over.

  Her sisters had taken her words of the morning to heart and had wisely refrained from joining her in greeting their guardian. Alone, she emerged into the hallway. In astonishment, she beheld, not one elegantly turned out gentleman, but four.

  Max, his eyes immediately drawn as if by some magic to her, smiled and came forward to take herhand. His comprehensive glance swept her face, then dropped to her bonnet, dangling loosely by its ribbons from one hand. His smile broadened, bringing a delicate colour to her cheeks. “I’m glad you’re ready, my dear. But where are your sisters?”

  Caroline blinked. “They’re in the back parlour,” she answered, turning to greet Darcy Hamilton.

  Max turned. “Millwade, escort these gentlemen to the back parlour.”

  Millwade, not in Hillshaw’s class, looked slightly scandalized. But an order from his employer was not to be disobeyed. Caroline, engaged in exchanging courtesies with the gentlemen involved, was staggered. But before she could remonstrate, her cloak appeared about her shoulders and she was firmly propelled out the door. She was constrained to hold her fire until Max had dismissed the urchin holding the bays and climbed up beside her.

  “You’re supposed to be our guardian! Don’t you think it’s a little unconventional to leave three gentlemen with your wards unchaperoned?”

  Giving his horses the office, Max chuckled. “I don’t think any of them need chaperoning at present. They’d hardly welcome company when trying t
o propose.”

  “Oh! You mean they’ve asked?”

  Max nodded, then glanced down. “I take it you’re still happy with their suits?”

  “Oh, yes! It’s just that…well, the others didn’t seem to hold out much hope.” After a pause, she asked, “Weren’t you surprised?”

  He shook his head. “Darcy I’ve been expecting for weeks. After this morning, Hugo was a certainty. And Martin’s been more sternly silent than I’ve ever seen him before. So, no, I can’t say I was surprised.” He turned to grin at her. “Still, I hope your sisters have suffered as much as their swains—it’s only fair.”

  She was unable to repress her answering grin, the dimple by her mouth coming delightfully into being. A subtle comment of Max’s had the effect of turning the conversation into general fields. They laughed and discussed, occasionally with mock seriousness, a number of tonnish topics, then settled to determined consideration of the Twyford House ball.

  This event had been fixed for the following Tuesday, five days distant. More than four hundred guests were expected. Thankfully, the ballroom was huge and the house would easily cater for this number. Under Lady Benborough’s guidance, the Twinning sisters had coped with all the arrangements, a fact known to Max. He had a bewildering array of questions for Caroline. Absorbed with answering these, she paid little attention to her surroundings.

  “You don’t think,” she said, airing a point she and her sisters had spent much time pondering, “that, as it’s not really a proper come-out, in that we’ve been about for the entire Season and none of us is truly a debutante, the whole thing might fall a little flat?”

  Max grinned. “I think I can assure you that it will very definitely not be flat. In fact,” he continued, asif pondering a new thought, “I should think it’ll be one of the highlights of the Season.”

  Caroline looked her question but he declined to explain.

  As usual when with her guardian, time flew and it was only when a chill in the breeze penetrated herthin cloak that Caroline glanced up and found the afternoon gone. The curricle was travelling smoothly down a well surfaced road, lined with low hedges set back a little from the carriageway. Beyond these, neat fields stretched sleepily under the waning sun, a few scattered sheep and cattle attesting to the fact that they were deep in the country. From the direction of the sun, they were travelling south, away from the capital. With a puzzled frown, she turned to the man beside her. “Shouldn’t we be heading back?”

  Max glanced down at her, his devilish grin in evidence. “We aren’t going back.”

  Caroline’s brain flatly refused to accept the implications of that statement. Instead, after a pause, she asked conversationally, “Where are we?”

  “A little past Twickenham.”

  “Oh.” If they were that far out of town, then it was difficult to see how they could return that evening even if he was only joking about not going back. But he had to be joking, surely?

  The curricle slowed and Max checked his team for the turn into a beech-lined drive. As they whisked through the gateway, Caroline caught a glimpse of a coat of arms worked into the impressive iron gates. The Delmere arms, Max’s own. She looked about her with interest, refusing to give credence to the suspicion growing in her mind. The drive led deep into the beechwood, then opened out to run along a ridge bordered by cleared land, close-clipped grass dropping away on one side to run down to a distant river. On the other side, the beechwood fell back as the curricle continued towards a rise. Cresting this, the road descended in a broad sweep to end in a gravel courtyard before an old stone house. It nestled into an unexpected curve of a small stream, presumably a tributary of the larger river which Caroline rather thought must be the Thames. The roof sported many gables. Almost as many chimneys, intricate pots capping them, soared high above the tiles. In the setting sun, the house glowed mellow and warm. Along one wall, a rambling white rose nodded its blooms and released its perfume to the freshening breeze. Caroline thought she had seen few more appealing houses.

  They were expected, that much was clear. A groom came running at the sound of the wheels on the gravel. Max lifted her down and led her to the door. It opened at his touch. He escorted her in and closed the door behind them.

  Caroline found herself in a small hall, neatly panelled in oak, a small round table standing in the middle of the tiled floor. Max’s hand at her elbow steered her to a corridor giving off the back of the hall. It terminated in a beautifully carved oak door. As Max reached around her to open it, Caroline asked, “Where are the servants?”

  “Oh, they’re about. But they’re too well trained to show themselves.”

  Her suspicions developing in leaps and bounds, Caroline entered a large room, furnished in a fashion she had never before encountered.

  The floor was covered in thick, silky rugs, executed in the most glorious hues. Low tables were scattered amid piles of cushions in silks and satins of every conceivable shade. There was a bureau against one wall, but the room was dominated by a dais covered with silks and piled with cushions, more silks draping down from above to swirl about it in semi-concealing mystery. Large glass doors gave on to a paved courtyard. The doors stood slightly ajar, admitting the comforting gurgle of the stream as it passed by on the other side of the courtyard wall. As she crossed to peer out, she noticed the ornate brass lamps which hung from the ceiling. The courtyard was empty and, surprisingly, entirely enclosed. A wooden gate was set in one side-wall and another in the wall opposite the house presumably gave on to the stream. As she turned back into the room, Caroline thought it had a strangely relaxing effect on the senses—the silks, the glowing but not overbright colours, the soothing murmur of the stream. Then, her eyes lit on the silk-covered dais. And grew round. Seen from this angle, it was clearly a bed, heavily disguised beneath the jumble of cushions and silks, but a bed nevertheless. Her suspicions confirmed, her gaze flew to her guardian’s face.

  What she saw there tied her stomach in knots. “Max…” she began uncertainly, the conservative Miss Twinning hanging on grimly.

  But then he was standing before her, his eyes glinting devilishly and that slow smile wreaking havoc with her good intentions. “Mmm?” he asked.

  “What are we doing here?” she managed, her pulse racing, her breath coming more and more shallowly, her nerves stretching in anticipation.

  “Finishing your education,” the deep voice drawled.

  Well, what had she expected? asked that other Miss Twinning, ousting her competitor and taking total possession as Max bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth opened welcomingly under his and he took what she offered, gradually drawing her into his embrace until she was crushed against his chest. Caroline did not mind; breathing seemed unimportant just at that moment.

  When Max finally raised his head, his eyes were bright under their hooded lids and, she noticed with smug satisfaction, his breathing was almost as ragged as hers. His eyes searched her face, then his slow smile appeared. “I notice you’ve ceased reminding me I’m your guardian.”

  Caroline, finding her arms twined around his neck, ran her fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve given up,” she said in resignation. “You never paid the slightest attention, anyway.”

  Max chuckled and bent to kiss her again, then pulled back and turned her about. “Even if I were your guardian, I’d still have seduced you, sweetheart.”

  Caroline obligingly stood still while his long fingers unlaced her gown. She dropped her head forward to move her curls, which he had loosed, out of his way. Then, the oddity of his words struck her. Her head came up abruptly. “Even? Max…” She tried to turn around but his hand pushed her back.

  “Stand still,” he commanded. “I have no intention of making love to you with your clothes on.”

  Having no wish to argue that particular point, Caroline, seething with impatience, stood still until she felt the last ribbon freed. Then, she turned. “What do you mean, even if you were my guardian? You are my guardian. You told
me so yourself.” Her voice tapered away as one part of her mind tried to concentrate on her questions while the rest was more interested in the fact that Max had slipped her dress from her shoulders and it had slid, in a softly sensuous way, down to her feet. In seconds, her petticoats followed.

  “Yes, I know I did,” Max agreed helpfully, his fingers busy with the laces of the light stays which restrained her ample charms. “I lied. Most unwisely, as it turned out.”

  “Wh…what?” Caroline was having a terrible time trying to focus her mind. It kept wandering. She supposed she really ought to feel shy about Max undressing her. The thought that there were not so many pieces of her clothing left for him to remove, spurred her to ask, “What do you mean, you lied? And why unwisely?”

  Max dispensed with her stays and turned his attention to the tiny buttons of her chemise. “You were never my ward. You ceased to be a ward of the Duke of Twyford when you turned twenty-five. But I arranged to let you believe I was still your guardian, thinking that if you knew I wasn’t you would never let me near you.” He grinned wolfishly at her as his hands slipped over her shoulders and her chemise joined the rest of her clothes at her feet “I didn’t then know that the Twinnings are…susceptible to rakes.”

  His smug grin drove Caroline to shake her head. “We’re not…susceptible.”

  “Oh?” One dark brow rose.

  Caroline closed her eyes and her head fell back as his hands closed over her breasts. She heard his deep chuckle and smiled to herself. Then, as his hands drifted, and his lips turned to hers, her mind went obligingly blank, allowing her senses free rein. As her bones turned to jelly and her knees buckled, Max’s arm helpfully supported her. Then, her lips were free and she was swung up into his arms. A moment later, she was deposited in the midst of the cushions and silks on the dais.

  Feeling excitement tingling along every nerve, Caroline stretched sensuously, smiling at the light that glowed in Max’s eyes as they watched her while he dispensed with his clothes. But when he stretched out beside her, and her hands drifted across the hard muscles of his chest, she felt him hold back. In unconscious entreaty, she turned towards him, her body arching against his. His response was immediate and the next instant his lips had returned to hers, his arms gathering her to him. With a satisfied sigh, Caroline gave her full concentration to her last lesson.