To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“Then perhaps you might advise me on how to advance my suit with her. I need every advantage I can get.”

“You don’t expect m

e to aid the enemy, do you?”

He laughed softly. “You see, that is my dilemma. I have been dubbed ‘the enemy’ without a chance to prove myself.”

When her friend smiled in return, Arabella was amazed that Marcus could charm even Tess, who was extremely wary of rakish noblemen after an unhappy encounter with one in her past.

“Lord Danvers is obviously well-versed in using charm to get his way,” Arabella said dryly.

“True,” Marcus agreed. “But even my best efforts fail to have much effect on you.” He directed his gaze at Tess once more. “Will you stay for luncheon, Miss Blanchard? I hope to persuade you to tell me some of Arabella’s secrets.”

That won another faint smile from Tess. “Thank you, but I cannot stay. I must return to the academy. I only called because Arabella missed her class.”

“I fear that was my fault. I have kept her occupied with my affairs all morning.”

When Tess gave her a curious glance, Arabella felt her cheeks warming. “Lord Danvers plans to renovate the Hall and asked me to oversee the work.”

“I see,” Tess said slowly, although the frown creasing her brow showed a hint of concern.

“Don’t worry,” Arabella said with an arch glance at Marcus. “I have no intention of becoming Lady Danvers simply because I enjoy decorating his manor.”

With Marcus following, she accompanied Tess to the entrance hall, where the forest of blossoms greeted them. Arabella went straight to the vase of roses her friend had been admiring earlier. “Here, pray take these with you, Tess. I know how much you love roses, and you will appreciate them better than I.” She turned to the butler, who was waiting by the front door. “Will you have the other flowers delivered to the academy, Simpkin?”

“All of them, Miss Arabella?”

“Yes, all. You may distribute them among our pupils with the complements of Lord Danvers.” She glanced at Marcus with a wicked smile. “I’m certain our young ladies will be grateful that a nobleman of your illustrious station thought to brighten their day. And I don’t like to squander such lovely blooms, even though they are wasted on me.”

When he inclined his head, acknowledging her slight victory, Arabella felt her pulse leap at his very male smile.

Dragging her gaze away, she ushered her friend outside to her gig to say a private farewell. When she returned, she found Marcus still waiting for her. “Did you wish something of me, Lord Danvers? I should return to the drawing room, where I left our merchants.”

“I wanted to invite you to ride with me after luncheon. I thought you might enjoy the exercise.” When Arabella hesitated, Marcus added, “I sent for some of my horses in London on the assumption that you and your sisters would appreciate decent mounts for a change. The slugs in your step-uncle’s stables are hardly worthy of the name. We can consider a ride part of my daily quota of your company.”

She would indeed enjoy riding, Arabella reflected. And mounted on horseback, she would stand a better chance of frustrating the earl’s persistent courtship. “I would like that, my lord.”

“Good. Then I shall meet you at the stable at two.”

Arabella returned to the drawing room, unable to ignore a tremor of excitement at the prospect of riding on such a lovely spring day, or the more deplorable anticipation of matching wits with Marcus again.

Arabella was not disappointed by either the weather or her new mount. When she reached the stables, Marcus was waiting with a beautiful bay mare for her. He lifted her into her sidesaddle, then mounted a strapping chestnut gelding.

She led the way out of the yard and down the gravel drive to a tree-shaded lane. At the next crossroad, they turned off and set out across the countryside at a leisurely canter, negotiating lush green fields and pastures and glades that flanked the winding Thames River. They finally slowed when they came to the crest of a hill, where they could see a wide valley below.

A pleasant silence had fallen between them. Arabella raised her face to the sun, drinking in the golden-bright afternoon, savoring the rare pleasure of having a spirited horse beneath her and a charmingly attentive gentleman beside her. If not for the wager, she would have keenly enjoyed Marcus’s company, she acknowledged.

“Thank you for this delightful treat,” she said, patting her mare. “She is a beauty. You clearly have superb taste in horseflesh.”

“I buy all my sister’s mounts for her,” Marcus replied.

“And is she a good horsewoman?”

“The best, since I taught her myself. Eleanor rides neck or nothing, just as your sister Lilian reportedly enjoys doing.”

“Lily does indeed ride like a hellion,” Arabella replied with a fond smile.

“I should like to meet her and Roslyn one of these days.”