The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3) Read online

  “It’s hideous,” she countered, thinking he referred to her foot.

  “It is not hideous,” he argued. “It’s just a foot.”

  Shivering as his finger once again touched bare skin, she asked, “Now what are you doing?”

  “Removing your stocking,” he whispered. He moved his other hand up the inside of her leg to where the top edge of the stocking had just crested her knee and was on its way down.

  “Why?”

  Using the tips of his fingers, he rolled the stocking all the way down her calf, over the heel of her foot and past the broadest part. The knit silk popped off her foot, and he was quick to once again cradle her foot in one hand. “So I can do this.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her foot.

  Victoria gasped, torn between jerking her foot from his hold or allowing a moan of pleasure to escape. “Why?”

  He kissed the knuckle of her largest toe, ignoring her half-hearted attempt to pull her foot from his grasp. He kissed the next knuckle and then the next before planting another one on the top of her foot again. “So I can test if you have feeling there,” he whispered. “Do you?”

  The warm wash of his breath cascaded over the taut skin, and Victoria inhaled softly. “Yes,” she said on a sigh.

  Tom kissed her ankle and then the space above it. When the hem of her skirt prevented him from going higher, he straightened one of his bent knees and rose to lean over her. One hand moved to her cheek and then he touched his lips to hers.

  The kiss was light as a feather, a barely-there wisp of a kiss that left him wanting more when he knew damned well he wasn’t entitled to the intimacy.

  When he pulled away, he thought to apologize, but Victoria asked, “What was that for?”

  “To soften the blow of what I’m about to tell you,” he murmured as he straightened and then sat down next to her on the bed.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “Could you ring for your maid? You’ve a sprained ankle. I’ll wrap it, but you’ll have to stay off it for two or three days—mayhap longer.”

  “Two or three days?” she repeated in horror. “But, I have horses to train. Surely I can just—”

  “Have your grooms and stableboy exercise the horses for a few days,” he said, sounding ever so reasonable. “If you’d like, I can ask Alistair Comber to pay a call every day just to see how they’re progressing,” he offered.

  Her eyes still wide, she asked, “How do you know Mr. Comber?”

  Glad he had taken her mind off her injury for just a moment, Tom said, “Why, I just bought a horse from him a few days ago. A shire to pull my phaeton.”

  Victoria furrowed a dark brow. “What kind?”

  “It’s a Tilbury,” Tom replied. “Nothing fancy. Just black with red spokes. High perch.” At seeing her quelling glance, he allowed a teasing grin. “He’s a shire. Name’s Jake.”

  “Jake?”

  “Jake,” he affirmed. “He’s nineteen hands and a true gentle giant.”

  Victoria inhaled. “A giant, indeed,” she murmured in awe. “I don’t think my father ever had anything that large in his stables in Wiltshire. When can I meet him?”

  Tom angled his head to one side. “Well, you could meet him right now, but I rather doubt I could get him up the stairs and through that door. I’m quite sure he’d get stuck.”

  A pillow hit his chest, nearly knocking him backward onto the bed. “You’re incorrigible,” she accused. She started to get up, but Tom wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her sitting on the bed.

  “Have a care, my lady. You’ll not be able to walk let alone go down those stairs.”

  Victoria’s eyes blazed. “Just for that, I should make you carry me down them, for tempting me...”

  Her words cut off when she was whisked up into his arms. Tom carried her through the door and down the hall to the steps, happy to know he could do so without banging her foot against the door frame.

  “Put me down, Mr. Grandby,” Victoria ordered, although she did nothing to struggle in his arms. She had wrapped her hands around his neck, as if she feared he might drop her.

  “I will when we’re in front of Jake, but then you shall lean on me and keep your foot from touching the ground,” Tom said as he descended. “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

  “Here, sir,” Cummings said from the bottom of the stairs, her mouth open as she watched him carry her mistress.

  “Her ladyship has a sprained ankle. I need a long strip of stiff fabric so I can wrap it,” he said, authority sounding in his voice. “Clark?”

  “Sir,” the butler replied, joining the lady’s maid.

  “Send a footman to Mr. Alistair Comber’s residence in South Audley Street with a note requesting Mr. Comber pay a call on her ladyship when it’s convenient.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” Victoria argued as they passed the servants and headed for the front door. Clark was quick to follow.

  “But you don’t trust your grooms or the stableboy to see to the training of the horses,” he countered when he reached the door. He turned his attention on the butler. “Could you toss a wrap or shawl over her ladyship? She wishes to go out for a moment, and I don’t want her to catch a chill.”

  Victoria huffed. “This from the man who removed my stocking,” she whispered. “My foot is bare.”

  The oddest sensation passed through Tom just then. The half-tease, half-admonishment spoken in a whisper had him wondering what else he could do to have her scolding him again. “As I recall, you did not protest overmuch,” he whispered back. He did take a quick glance to ensure the hem of her gown hid her bare foot, though.

  Incensed, Victoria was about to respond when Clark returned and unfurled a shawl so it covered most of her.

  “We won’t be long. My lady would like to take a look at my horse,” Tom said as Clark opened the door.

  They found the stableboy, Jemmy, lifting a carrot in front of Jake, the horse quickly downing the treat before Jemmy’s attention turned to his mistress.

  “My lady?” he asked as he stepped back.

  “She has a sprained ankle,” Tom was quick to say. “Which means you and the grooms will need to see to the horses for a few days.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jemmy replied with a bow.

  “What do you think you’re doing giving orders to my...?” Victoria’s scold stopped when Tom turned her so she could see Jake. She inhaled sharply. “Oh! Oh, he’s magnificent!” she murmured.

  Tom moved so he stood directly in front of the shire. “Lady Victoria, may I have the honor of introducing you to Jake the Gentle Giant?”

  “Oh, you may,” she murmured as she reached out with a hand and stroked the horse’s muzzle and then slid her fingers up as far as she could reach. Even with his head slightly lowered, she wouldn’t have been able to reach the top of Jake’s head. “You are a sweetheart,” she breathed.

  Jake nickered, obviously enjoying the attention. “I wonder where Mr. Comber found him?” she asked.

  “He was up for auction, but Mr. Comber allowed me to buy him outright. He feared he would be bought for hard labor otherwise.”

  “And there was not another horse this large to make a matched pair,” she guessed, her hand continuing to stroke the horse’s head. “His coat is perfect,” she murmured, noting the shiny black hair and white stockings.

  “Matches your hair,” Tom remarked. “You would look stunning riding him.”

  “Is there even a saddle large enough for him?” she countered, knowing she would have to ride him sidesaddle. She couldn’t imagine riding such a broad-backed horse astride.

  “Good point,” Tom replied.

  “Your arms must be tiring. You can put me down,” she suggested.

  “If I do, promise me you will lean on me and not put any weight on your bare foot?”

  “I promise,” she whispered, well aware Jemmy watched them from where he still stood.

  Tom lowered her until her slippered foot touched the crushe
d granite, and then he helped with wrapping the shawl around her shoulders. Standing upright didn’t provide any more height when it came to stroking the horse, though—given Tom’s height, she was as tall in his arms as she was standing.

  “You won’t use him for anything but pulling the phaeton?” she asked.

  “I have a town coach with a matched pair,” he replied. “No other equipage, though, so just the phaeton.”

  “He should have some time in a pasture. You’re welcome to bring him here if you don’t plan to use your phaeton for a few days in the spring,” she offered.

  “It’s very kind of you to offer,” Tom murmured.

  “Is the mews at Arthur’s even large enough to board him?”

  “It is. Just barely. He just has a few stablemates. My other two horses, and there are two shires that belong to the club.”

  “As long as he’s not alone,” she said before turning in his arms. Given how she had to use him for support, Victoria thought they stood impossibly close.

  “Do you suppose that’s true for people as well?” Tom asked in a quiet voice. He felt her tremble and wondered if she was cold. At the moment, despite the winter chill in the air, he was blissfully warm, and he knew it was because she stood so close. Because she leaned against him.

  “I suppose it could be,” she replied. When he didn’t respond but merely gazed at her, she asked, “Why do you stare at me so?”

  “So I can remember every detail of you. Of your beauty. The scent of you,” he whispered, leaning forward so he could breathe in her light perfume. The scent of lilies wafted past at the moment a blush colored her face.

  “Why?”

  “So I can fall asleep thinking of you,” he replied quietly. He kissed her then, the firm pillows of his lips colliding with her softer ones as her hand reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck for support.

  Although Tom was aware of the stableboy attempting to avert his eyes, he knew the youngster was peeking. And then, apparently to cover his embarrassment or perhaps to appease Jake’s sudden lack of attention, Jemmy took the reins and began leading the shire around the circle drive in front of the estate.

  When Tom finally ended the kiss, he dipped his head so his forehead touched hers. “I’d ask for forgiveness, but I surely don’t deserve it,” he whispered, his breathing labored.

  “Forgiveness for what?”

  He gave a start and straightened slightly. “You’re not... angry?”

  “Do I look angry?”

  “You’re not... offended that I have taken liberties?”

  Her eyes darted sideways. “You consider bestowing a single kiss taking a liberty?”

  Tom furrowed his brows. He was fairly sure there had been more than one kiss just then. In fact, there had been several of them, although one did just sort of merge into the next and the one after that. “Does that mean you would allow me to do it again?”

  Victoria visibly swallowed and her gaze darted to his lips. “Perhaps,” she hedged, shivering slightly as a wintery breeze kicked up.

  “Come. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm,” Tom said as he turned, intending to lift her into his arms. But Victoria had quite forgotten her injured foot and made to take a step toward the door. She inhaled sharply and cried out in pain even as she was being lifted into Tom’s arms.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, hurrying to the door. He only had to knock once and both doors were opened by Clark, the elderly man stepping aside to provide a broad entry.

  “This is all my fault,” Tom said on a sigh as he aimed for the stairs. “I didn’t send word ahead of my intent to pay a call. I interrupted your climb up the stairs. If I hadn’t, your poor foot wouldn’t have twisted so badly, and your ankle wouldn’t be injured.”

  Victoria angled her head away from his body and nodded. “This is all your fault,” she accused, although there wasn’t any malice in her tone.

  “I was so excited about the news I had received, I only wished to share it with you as quickly as possible.”

  “Which you have yet to tell me,” she reminded him.

  Tom blinked. “We’ve received a response from our steam bus inventor. He is amenable to our terms and is anxious to begin a limited service as soon as facilities can be arranged,” he explained as he took her back to her bedchamber. He set her on the bed, heartened to discover a length of starched muslin on the counterpane.

  “That’s most excellent,” Victoria said with excitement. “He was not put off of the idea of the project when he learned of my sex?”

  Tom’s eyes darted sideways. “I don’t know that the topic even came up,” he replied as he found the end of the muslin. “Can you pull up your skirts, please?”

  Victoria did so without protest, but her thoughts were still on the project. “He doesn’t know I am an investor?”

  Holding the end of the fabric with one hand as he pulled the remainder around her leg, he said, “Most investors in such a scheme are unknown to one another. It’s better that way. Trust me,” he said as he concentrated on wrapping her ankle.

  “Why?”

  He gave a shrug. “Not everyone is invested to the same degree. With the same amount of money,” he replied, thinking that he had only ever discussed money like this with his mother and grandmother. For some reason, it was easier to do so with Victoria. “Which means the returns will differ as well.”

  “How so?” she asked, only vaguely paying attention to what he was doing with her ankle. Despite the pressure he was applying, he wasn’t causing as much pain as she expected.

  “Your investment is the largest at seventy-five percent,” he said. “Your return will be seventy-five percent of the total when the periodic payouts begin.”

  “When will that be?”

  Tom paused his wrapping. “As per the contract, probably as soon as the end of next year.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “Well, that won’t do,” she murmured.

  Sitting back on his haunches, Tom came to the end of the muslin strip and threaded it under her foot and tied it off just above her ankle. He was examining his workmanship when his gaze moved up to her knee.

  Although he had seen a woman’s knee before—he’d employed a mistress, after all—the sight of Victoria’s had him swallowing. He wanted nothing more than to touch it. To run his finger along the top and over the sharp bend and down the front of her perfectly formed shin bone to where the muslin encased her ankle and half her foot.

  Without even thinking, he was lowering his head so that he might place a kiss on her knee when the hem of her skirts and petticoat suddenly dropped in front of him. A second later, and one of her fingers was beneath his chin, forcing it up.

  “I said that won’t do.”

  Tom blinked as he struggled to remember what she had asked him. “You don’t wish to receive dividends?” When she shook her head, he said, “But... they were listed in the contract. A dividend paid out every year.”

  “I read the contract,” she argued. “I don’t recall a mention of any payouts.”

  Trying a different tact, Tom asked, “My lady, will you have enough funds to live on as well as those you need to continue the restoration on the house and grounds?”

  “I thought I made it clear that I did,” she replied.

  Tom wrapped his fingers around the one that was still beneath his chin. He brought it to his lips and kissed the tip of it. “I recall you mentioning—”

  “Does everyone have this... this clause in their contract?”

  He inhaled and cleared his throat. “Of course. Most investors require some monies to be paid out from their investments on a regular basis. As proof the enterprise is operating as planned. That it’s profitable.”

  “Well, I don’t require it.” The hint of annoyance in her voice could not be missed. “You didn’t believe me, did you?”

  Tom dipped his head and allowed a long sigh as he moved to join her on the edge of the bed. “It wasn’t a matter or believing you
or not, my lady. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t left destitute should this investment not provide some funds before it ran its course or... or was sold for a profit.” He paused and then added, “I know a banker who can see to an account where we could store the funds until you truly need them.”

  “I have my own banker,” she said in a huff.

  “Do you trust him?”

  Victoria’s eyes were still wide as she turned to regard him. “I do. He’s the one who...” She paused, not about to admit that James Burroughs had been the one to suggest she invest in steam buses. “Who I’ve had handle my funds since father turned them over to me.”

  “Perhaps he can set up a second account on your behalf?” Tom suggested.

  “Oh, if he must,” she said on a sigh, crossing her arms to further punctuate her annoyance.

  Tom looked as if he’d lost his best friend, or at least the opportunity for the two of them to ever become best friends.

  Or perhaps something more.

  “I will be sure to send future updates by way of a courier or the post,” he said before he stood. He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it, heartened she didn’t try to pull it away. “Leave the wrap on your ankle for a few days. It will help keep the the swelling down,” he said before he gave a leg and then took his leave of her bedchamber.

  Chapter 26

  An Heiress Regrets

  A moment later

  Victoria listened as the sound of Tom Grandby’s retreating steps faded. She imagined the front door opening and closing. Imagined him climbing onto his phaeton and setting Jake into motion.

  If she could have walked without having to hop on one foot, she would have followed him—run if she’d had to—called out to him to wait so that she might apologize.

  The terms of the contract had been quite clear. She had asked the important questions, and Juliet had asked the others, but at no point could she remember a section about periodic payouts.

  Dividends, he had said.

  Damnation, she thought in dismay. She hadn’t questioned the dividends, and neither had Juliet.