“That’s why we work so well together.”
Thank goodness his brother was being reasonable.And thank goodness Rollo had come home in time to talk some sense into him.
“I have every faith that Lavinia is as delightful as she always has been,” Rollo assured, “and is unaware of her father’s machinations.But even if he wasn’t in debt, what you are describing does not sound like love.It sounds more like—” He searched for the right word.“—convenience.And believe me, as much as finally bedding a woman would be convenient for you, it would be thrice as convenient for a cleaned-out Lord Stapleton if that woman happened to be his comely daughter.You know I’m right.”
“I do.”Willoughby thumped the bed hard, making an anguished, frustrated sound.“Stapleton is but the first of many, isn’t he?How will I ever know if a girl wants me simply for me or whether she simply has an impoverished father desperate to palm her off?I shall be Rossingley one day.One of the richest men in England!”
“You’ll know,” Rollo promised, “because you are surrounded by people who won’t ever let you fall into that trap.Papa and Kit, for instance.Even bloody Pritchard—that valet has an ear on every street corner in theton.And me, of course.”
“But you won’t be with me,” Willoughby wailed.“You’ll be with Fitz in some godforsaken gloomy manor house in gloomy Norfolk.I’m going to need you, Rolly.I’m not going to be very good at this earldom thingy.”
“Absolute tosh.You’ll be amazing.”Crisis averted, Rollo smiled at him.“And you know it.And who says I’ll be spending all my time in Norfolk?We shall do the seasons together, and afterwards, I’ll bring Fitz to stay here.”
“Papa will be thrilled, I’m sure.”Willoughby huffed a sigh.“Dammit, Rolly, swiving someone would be the most convenient thing there is.I’m so desperate for it; I can barely think of anything else.”
“Can we both agree that is not a sound basis for marrying the girl next door?There are some excellent and very discreet bawdy houses in London and some wonderfully competent ladies housed within.I think it high time Father introduced you to one.”
*
NEXT MORNING, INa much happier frame of mind, Willoughby suggested a ride.Given the amount of rain that had fallen and continued to threaten (if the ceiling of black clouds overhead had any say in it), Rollo had been of a mind to stay indoors with a good book.But he could deny Willoughby very little, especially when he was still a tad bruised from Rollo’s candid appraisal of his marriage intentions.Reluctantly, he trudged after his brother down to the stable block.
“I shall inform Papa of my imminent return to Goule after dinner tonight,” Rollo declared, tightening Sapphire’s chin strap.“After outlining all of Fitz’s marvellous good works.And then I shall suggest he accompany us to London for the season.”
He swung himself smoothly into the saddle.He hadn’t ridden once at Goule as Fitz’s small stable comprised only his matched pair and an immense chestnut stallion named Fury.Any time Rollo strolled within six feet of the stable block, the horse had stamped his hoof and breathed fire.Typically, Fitz adored him.
“You really are besotted, aren’t you?One doesn’t wish to grumble, but you have made mention of your beau at least fifteen times since breakfast.”
“And you have mentioned Lavinia nought.Perhaps picturing yourself with a high-class wanton dressed in a scrap of lace and not much else has assisted?”
Willoughby giggled.“Yes, yes, yes, you’ve made your point.I shall ask Papa to introduce me to some discreet ladies forthwith.”
In truth, Rollo hadn’t missed riding very much.Willoughby lived for it.Like their papa, he’d been blessed with an excellent seat.In contrast, despite growing up around horseflesh and developing a certain degree of competence, Rollo had always felt a bit of an imposter.He pretended comfort astride a horse, mostly to keep Willoughby company, but more often than not, his fear of heights reared its ugly head.He’d find himself staring at the packed brown earth and worriedly calculating the distance down—seven, maybe eight feet?
At least there was a break in the rain.They set off companionably, trotting side by side, hooves splashing through mud and puddles, and the lush, rolling hills of Rossingley stretched before them in every direction.About to remark how different it was to Goule’s flat, brooding landscape, Rollo bit his tongue.He’d managed not to mention Fitz for at least ten minutes.
“Let’s head up and around Langford’s farm,” suggested Willoughby, and at the click of his tongue, an obedient Bunty turned left.
With less enthusiasm (and less command of his horse) Rollo followed, glancing up at the leaden sky.A few spots of rain pattered on his riding coat.“Summer has departed with a vengeance and autumn has arrived with a bang.”
“Quite literally,” agreed Willoughby as a roll of thunder burbled in the distance.“Come on.I’ll race you to the top.”
Willoughby won, of course; he always did.Rollo didn’t mind.He preferred finishing a ride with his body in one piece, thank you very much.The rain fell more heavily now, his coat’s padded shoulders gradually becoming sodden with it.He cursed as a trickle ran down the back of his neck.Though not yet cold, he was most definitely wet.
“Time to turn back?”he suggested, and Willoughby nodded, pointing towards a narrow track through a dense copse.
“That way’s quicker.I know it’s tight, and there’s a hedge to jump at the end.But it’s a very low hedge, and you’ll be in a hot bath within the hour.”
“Looks a lot muddier though,” observed Rollo, but he couldn’t deny the bath sounded tempting.“I still think we should retrace our steps.My bath can wait an extra half hour.”He pointed back the way they’d come.“We know the track isn’t flooded as we’ve ridden that way already, and the section past Langford’s is much wider.And there are no hedges to jump at all.”
Willoughby tutted.“Oh, where’s your sense of adventure, Rolly.Have you been spending so much time with your ancient lover that you’ve become an old man yourself?”
“He’s not ancient.He’s mature, like a fine wine.”Rollo smiled at the memory of Fitz’s copper-gold chest, thick with curls.Rollo’s own was yet to sprout a single hair.“Older lovers have a lot to commend themselves, Willoughby.As you will soon find out on our return to London.They know how to pleasure a man, for a start.Thoroughly.And, for your information, Fitz’s and my love for each other transcends all boundaries, including age.”
Willoughby made retching noises, justly deserved.“Then follow me down through the copse and prove to me he hasn’t fucked all of your bravado out of you, lover boy.”
Sapphire’s every sure step reminded Rollo he was no child or novice rider.Nonetheless, as the jump loomed closer, his unease soared.If their father ever found out what they were up to, he’d wring their necks.Even the birds had fallen into a reproving silence, the only sounds echoing through his ears were the squelch of Sapphire’s and Bunty’s hooves ploughing through slippery mud, the percussion of heavy rain on his shoulders, and a little voice inside his head telling him this was a really, really dreadful idea.
But it was too late to turn around; the horses would have a devil of a job climbing back up the hill.Shaking his head, Rollo blinked away the rivulets of water streaming into his eyes and tried to ignore the fear slithering in his belly.Ahead of him, straight backed and sitting proud in the saddle, Willoughby picked his way down the hill, making quick work of it.Parched of moisture for so long, the contours of the thin dirt track snaking through the copse had already disappeared below a fast-flowing torrent of rainwater.With every step she took, Sapphire’s fetlocks slipped below the surface.Rollo gripped the reins even tighter, wishing with all his might he’d insisted they take the safer route.
