Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

“No indeed.”

“It is indeed,” she protested mildly.

“Then we shall each forgive the other?” he asked with the ghost of a smile that was so rueful, she found herself smiling back.

“I must confess that I was wary of coming to your father’s lands,” he continued.

“What cause have I given you for such censure?” she asked with a smile of her own now, with amusement written on her face. “Truly, I am overjoyed that the air is clear between us.”

“It is not the countryside that has my censure. I was also invited to a house party that would be very different. It is undoubtably a large company, very boisterous, full of pranks, mischief and card games until dawn. My peers are no doubt indulging in all manners of...”

“I'm sorry, sir, that we offer little by way of diversion.” Lord Windon, no fool was instantly put on guard by her sharp tone.

“I only...” She did not give him chance to remonstrate.

“Of course, I do not want you to be bored. Perhaps you should seek to continue your journey in a trice when you are rested,” she spoke scathingly, spurring her horse forward.

“I did not mean to...”

“Do not offer platitudes if you are here on sufferance.” Surely, she did not think so.

“Your father invited me. I scarcely could be so impolite as to refuse.” That was the exact wrong thing to say and she stiffened. Her horse started to shy back and forth.

“You have, I must say, done your duty by us. We must not stop you from returning to more jaunty haunts.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“If I might get a word in edgewise, I would...” He tried to raise his voice to get her attentions.

“There is no need for excuses!” She shouted over him.

“I think you are quite mistaken...” Now his voice was raised purely in annoyance and irritation. The conversation had taken a wrong turn.

“I assure you that I am not!” Her voice maintained its domineering attempt to overpower whatever words may come from his mouth.

“Dashed deuce, you are a menace!” He regretted the words as soon as they rent the air. She gasped and paled. She sat glaring and her horse started to shy. He made an effort to collect the reins from her slack hands.

“And you are no gentleman to curse before a lady!” Her horse danced out of his reach and, with that last expletive flung in his direction, she turned her mount quickly and thundered off. Lord Windon followed at a sedate pace behind her, wracked with regrets and defeated by the interlude.

Her flight during their ride that afternoon had stayed with him. He had only been trying to pay her estates a compliment. The quiet had been enjoyable, something he was not afforded on his own estates. But she had leaped to the conclusion that he was typical of other boors in the ton. In a fashion he had begun to associate with Lord Rochester and his daughter, she had refused him to finish his words or get a word in edgewise to show her errors. He had helped the grooms restrain the lathered horses and went in search of quiet in the extensive gardens.

He wondered how his single act of atonement was not going to plan. He had hoped to help her. Upon hearing her predicament from her father, he had resolved to marry her in name alone, and give her access to her estate holdings and monies. It was little to atone for the sins of the male sex on the world of women and his implicit role in following them blindly.

He had hoped to broach the delicate issue during their ride and bring her to a kind agreement, but she had no use for him or his company. She would likely decline, and possibly abhor, his attempts to save her. He gave up then, and resolved to return to London at the earliest convenience.

But he would change his mind before the soup course was cleared off the dining table that evening.

Chapter Seven

She left the grooms to cool the lathered horse as she stomped up to her room. She quickly ordered a bath and, refusing Mary’s help, scrubbed herself until she was pink and pruny. No matter how her maid coaxed her, she would not revealed the source of her grievance. Instead she only bore her ablutions in silence and came down for an early dinner. Her father was indisposed and none of those invited guest could expect their host to keep a late hour.

They sat twelve at the table that night: Amelia, Lord Windon, her father and several neighbors. She was even tempered and allowed the easy conversation to flow around her, managing the occasional comment when a question was directed at her. She had mellowed after her outburst during the disastrous ride with Lord Windon. He sat at her father’s right hand, where he ought to as their honored guest. At the table was the florid country squire, his equally portly wife and their trio of milksop daughters.

Amelia glared at their obvious coy manners in trying to catch Robert’s attention. She was most pleased when their boldest flirtation was met with a bland smile and a prompt change of the topic of discussion. The thin smile, nothing like they shared, was a balm even if she was unwilling to admit her jealousy, even to herself. In this very moment her thoughts were much too chaotic.

The silver was polished and glinted brightly in the abundance of candlelight. There were beautiful Wedgewood crystal cups shaped like tulips and edged with swirls of gold. The handles of all the silverware were beautifully crafted with the family crest. The tablecloths were pristine white and starched to the proper amount of stiffness. Course followed course, an extravagant display of wealth that could only be rivaled by the Robert’s own table.

The entire household was on its guard to impress Lord Windon, who would most probably be their lord if gossip was to be believed. They were eager to serve and did so like a well-oiled machine with the minimum of fuss. And it was obvious they were properly trained, carrying out their duties without a single mishap and with a dedication that was exemplary. Lord Rochester was kind to his staff and his daughter in charge of the household accounts was very generous with their pay. And they did have a duke to impress.

Cook outdid herself and mouthwatering dishes were presented to the guests, who lavishly praised the culinary creations. That brought a bittersweet smile to Amelia’s lips, recollections of the last time such a thing occurred and how the evening had ended. A quick glance told her that Robert remembered too. The same smile was on his face.