"You angered him, damn you!" He raised his fisted hand, but one of the house servants was coming onto the veranda. He lowered his arm.
He lowered his voice, but the anger was strong and vicious. "You put him off! You didn't succeed, Sophia. I am displeased with you. Must I do all the planning? No, don't say anything. I will decide what is to be done now. You've botched it and I wonder if you did it apurpose."
He began to pace the veranda. Sophie watched him with a disinterested eye and kept silent. She prayed that Ryder Sherbrooke would have the good sense to keep miles away from Camille Hall and away from her.
Burgess paused and approached her, sitting in a cane-backed chair close to hers. "You took Lord David to the cottage last night, did you not?"
She nodded.
"All went well?"
'Yes. But he was jealous of my attention to Ryder Sherbrooke. His is not a steady character. He is childish and self-absorbed. Once he has drunk sufficiently, he is not difficult for me to handle, but last night his jealousy . . . well, it doesn't matter now. It turned out all right."
'You dealt with him?"
"Yes."
"Grammond will be leaving next week."
"Yes."
"You may detach yourself from Lord David now. There is no more use for him."
"He will not go easily," Sophie said. "He's young and arrogant and considers himself to be my stud. He will not take it kindly that I no longer want him."
"You will think of something." Theo Burgess rose and walked into the house, leaving her alone with her endless round of useless thoughts.
When Ryder Sherbrooke rode up some ten minutes later she wished she could yell at him to leave, curse his male stubbornness. She knew men and she knew what he was doing. He was teaching her a lesson; he was teaching her that he would not take commands from a woman. He was punishing her, humiliating her. Well, let him try. If only he knew it was her wish never to see him again, that she would give just about anything for him to book passage on the next ship back to England. She didn't move, merely watched as he cantered up the long drive, dismounted, and tied his stallion to the post some ten feet away from her.
He strolled over to her, leaned negligently on the veranda railing, and said easily, "Good morning."
He frowned for she was wearing that awful paint on her face. It looked garish and tawdry in the morning sunlight.
"I told you to wash your face. You look absurd. You may be the tart, but there is no reason to advertise it."
Sophie stood up slowly. She looked at him for a very long time, saying nothing. Then, in that light, teasing voice, she said, "Are you here to take me riding or to dictate terms for a surrender?"
"Surrender," he repeated. "That sounds quite charming to me, particularly with regard to you, madam. First, go wash your face. Then I will take you riding."
"You are near
ly two hours late, sir!"
"Am I? Dear me, how remiss of me. On the other hand, I didn't wish to ride two hours ago. Now I do. Go wash your face. I will give you ten minutes, no more."
"I wouldn't go to the trashhouse with you, damn you! Get out of here! Go back to England and be a boor there."
"Mr. Sherbrooke! How delightful to see you, sir. My niece mentioned that perhaps you would be coming to take her riding. Sophia, where are you going, my dear? Mr. Sherbrooke surely would appreciate your charming company."
Ryder was amused to see her so neatly trapped. "To freshen myself, Uncle."
"Excellent. Mr. Sherbrooke and I will have a cozy chat until you return. Such a sweet girl, my niece. Sit down, Mr. Sherbrooke, do sit down. Should you like a rum punch?"
"At this hour? No, thank you, Mr. Burgess."
"Ah, do call me Theo. I'm not quite that old."
"Then you must call me Ryder."