Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(11)

His mother had died in childbirth when Alex was a boy. Her death was followed a year later by the passing of the earl. It was said that he had willed himself to death, leaving behind his two sons and a mountain of responsibilities. Since the age of eighteen Alex had been occupied with managing business interests, tenants and land agents, household staff and family. He had property in Herefordshire, set among fertile wheat and corn fields and rivers filled with salmon, and a Buckinghamshire estate poised on a tract of harshly beautiful land that included steep Chiltern chalk hills.

Alex had devoted himself to caring for and educating his younger brother, Henry. His own needs had been neglected, put aside to be taken care of at some future date. When he had found a woman to love, the feelings he had pent up for so long were overwhelming. Losing Caroline had nearly killed him. He would never subject himself to such pain again.

That was why he had deliberately sought Penelope Lawson’s hand. A demure blonde girl, quintessentially English, she had attracted him with her gentle manner at many of the society balls in London. Penelope was what he needed. It was time to marry and produce heirs. Penelope couldn’t be more different than Caroline. She would share his bed, bear his children, grow old beside him, all in safety and peace, never becoming a part of him. Alex found ease in Penelope’s undemanding presence. There was no spark or vivacity in her pretty brown eyes, no sharp wit in her comments, nothing that threatened to touch his heart in any way. She would never think to argue with him or contradict him. The distant friendliness between them was something she did not seem to want to bridge any more than he did.

Suddenly Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by a remarkable sight. A woman was riding past the edge of the crowd, a young woman mounted on a high-strung white palfrey. Alex dropped his gaze instantly, but the vision blazed across his mind. A frown knotted itself between his brows.

Exotic, hoydenish, startling, she had appeared from nowhere. She was as slim as a boy, except for the gentle rise of her br**sts. Her short, curly black hair was held back from her forehead with a ribbon. Incredulously Alex saw that she straddled the horse the way a man did, that she was wearing breeches underneath her riding gown. Breeches the color of raspberries, for God’s sake. Yet no one seemed to find her as astonishing as he did. Most of the men seemed to be acquainted with her, exchanging laughing comments with her, everyone from the fresh-faced Lord Yarborough to crotchety old Lord Harrington. Alex watched expressionlessly as the woman in raspberry breeches rode around the clearing where the bagged fox was to be loosed. There was something strangely familiar about her.

Lily suppressed a satisfied smile as she saw that Raiford had fastened an unblinking gaze on her. He had definitely noticed her. “My lord,” she said to Lord Harrington, a robust older gentleman who had been an admirer of hers for years, “who is that man staring at me so rudely?”

“Why, it’s the earl of Raiford,” Harrington replied. “I would have assumed you had made acquaintance with him before, considering that he is soon to wed your delightful sister.”

Lily shook her head with a smile. “No, his lordship and I move in quite different circles. Tell me, is he as boorish as he appears?”

Harrington gave a hearty laugh. “Would you like me to introduce you, so that you may judge for yourself?”

“Thank you, but I believe I will present myself to Raiford unaccompanied.” Before he could reply, Lily walked her horse toward Raiford. As she drew closer to him, she was conscious of an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. She caught a glimpse of his face and suddenly realized who he was. “My God,” she breathed, stopping her horse beside him. “It’s you.”

His gaze was as piercing as a rapier. “The water party,” he murmured. “You were the one who jumped overboard.”

“And you were the one with the disapproving stare.” Lily grinned at him. “I was an idiot that day,” she admitted ruefully. “But I was slightly foxed. Although I suppose you wouldn’t consider that an acceptable excuse.”

“What do you want?” His voice caused every fine hair on her spine to rise in awareness. Low, gravelly, it sounded as if he were growling.

“What do I want?” she repeated, laughing softly. “How direct you are. But I like that in a man.”

“You wouldn’t have approached me unless you wanted something.”

“You’re right. Do you know who I am, my lord?”

“No.”

“Miss Lily Lawson. Your fiancée’s sister.”

Concealing his surprise, Alex studied her closely. It didn’t seem possible that this creature was related to Penelope. One sister so fair and angelic, the other dark and smoldering…and yet, there was a resemblance. They had the same brown eyes, the same fine features, the same unique sweetness in the curve of the lips. He tried to recall what little the Lawsons had revealed about their eldest daughter. They had preferred not to speak of her, except to say that Lily—or Wilhemina, as her mother called her—had gone “a little mad” after having been jilted at the altar when she was twenty years old. She’d gone to live aboard after that. Under the lax chaperonage of her widowed aunt, Lily had led a wild existence. Alex had been only mildly interested in the story—now he wished he had listened more closely.

“Has my family ever mentioned me to you?” she asked.