The Lady Most Likely... Read online

  Neill grinned. “Sir.” He inclined his head toward Briarly and, without waiting for a response, strode off with her.

  Chapter 12

  Miss Peyton!” Lady Finchley exclaimed on seeing Captain Oakes emerge around the side of the house carrying her young neighbor. Carolyn left the front door open and hurried down the front steps of the manor, where she’d been seeing off the Singleworths, their eligible daughter having announced at luncheon that she was pregnant and intended to marry her baby’s father, thus making any continuation of their visit beside the point.

  Whatever was going on? Was Miss Peyton hurt? And why was Captain Oakes, and not Hugh, carrying her? Earlier, she had seen Hugh disappear into the garden with Miss Peyton, and she’d hoped that he was furthering his acquaintance with the delicate-looking heiress. But apparently not, since the wrong man was carrying her.

  She’d only met the captain a handful of times, when she had first come as a bride to Finchley Manor. He hadn’t been Captain Oakes then, of course, but simply the wild son of an Irish beauty and an immensely wealthy baronet, whose name was almost as ancient as the Dales and whose estate was almost as vast.

  She recalled how surprised the local gentry had been when Neill Oakes had bought a commission and hied off to war, expressing doubt as to whether a young man of such undisciplined habits could ever bow to authority. But she’d been at court at the end of the season a few weeks ago when he, along with several other heroic soldiers, had been presented to the queen. He had looked worn, his eyes haunted and grave, but he’d carried his tall, broad-shouldered physique with a dignity she’d admired, and spoken to Finchley and her afterwards with humility and sobriety. Clearly, the reckless boy had become a thoughtful man.

  He was just the sort of man whom Georgina could love, she felt sure of that. The annoying part of it was that no sooner had the captain arrived than Miss Peyton’s rapscallion of a brother had cried off the party, but only after first abdicating his sister’s care to the unhappy, but dutifully obliging, Captain Oakes.

  Though, she thought eying Captain Oakes doubtfully, she couldn’t detect any unhappiness in his current expression. He seemed quite content to be holding Kate in his arms. He was just the sort of man who looked dashing with a woman in his arms. Too dashing? she wondered, rethinking her decision to invite someone of his wealth and good looks to a gathering whose sole purpose was to find Hugh a wife. Though she wanted her darling Georgina to fall in love, it was even more important that she match up her brother.

  At least, Miss Peyton seemed wholly immune to Captain Oakes’s attractiveness. She looked just as chill as her delicate blond beauty would allow, which was icy indeed. Unlike her big, brawny brothers, Miss Peyton was tiny and finely made.

  Really, Carolyn thought, God must have been snickering when he fashioned Kate Peyton, for Carolyn could not imagine another instance where the package so unsatisfactorily advertised the contents. She was not in the least delicate or fragile, and whatever air of etherealness her very petite feminine figure and bone-china-fine features conveyed vanished as soon as one engaged her in conversation.

  It was not that she was bold or forward, she was simply, stunningly direct. Carolyn, whom marriage had already taught that any subtle form of communication is lost on the male psyche, suspected it was the result of Kate’s being the only female in her household.

  Carolyn had met Kate Peyton several times in London the past season and had found the diminutive beauty refreshing, if a little frightening. She didn’t seem in the least eager to encourage suitors, and though she owned her own coterie of devoted followers, most gentlemen found her assertiveness off-putting.

  “Is everything all right?” Carolyn called out as soon as the pair came within hailing distance.

  “Everything is fine,” Captain Oakes said, mounting the steps to the front terrace.

  “Are you injured, Miss Peyton?” she asked.

  Miss Peyton did not appear to be in any physical pain though the pupils of her dark blue eyes had dilated to black pools, and her expression could only be termed strained.

  “My ankle,” she said. “I turned it and Ne—Captain Oakes insisted on transporting me.” She looked up at her rescuer. “Thank you for your aid, Captain Oakes, but you can put me down. I am confident my ankle can bear my weight now. It was only a trifling thing.”

  “You mustn’t risk further injury,” Captain Oakes said, jouncing the girl higher in his arms.

  A black curl fell across his eyes, and Kate glared at the lock as though it personally offended her before sweeping it from his forehead. Captain Oakes stilled, and though not a muscle moved in his rugged countenance, his expression sharpened.

  Carolyn stared, transfixed, confused, and completely at a loss as to how to go on. Primarily because she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on.

  “Pray, you mustn’t think me overly familiar, Lady Finchley,” Captain Oakes said. “The Peyton children and I were wont to treat each other’s homes as interchangeable when we were growing up. At least until my mother died. Miss Peyton quite played havoc with the family’s peace, too, I might add,” he said. “Always hanging from chandeliers, hurling down the banisters, and terrorizing the stable hands. Not to mention the poor horses.”

  “Miss Peyton terrorized your horses?” Carolyn’s smile froze. Oh, dear. Hugh would not like that. Not at all.

  “She painted my father’s prize broodmare pink for the county fair,” he said, lowering his voice confidingly.

  “I was but ten years old,” Miss Peyton burst out. “And one can hardly count one horse as ‘terrorizing the cattle.’”

  Carolyn relaxed. Hugh could overlook a youthful folly.

  “No, you did that when you taught your collie to ride bareback, and he proceeded to race around our pasture jumping atop unsuspecting horses.”

  Caught in her equivocation, an impish glint appeared in Miss Peyton’s eyes, and her mouth curved in an irrepressible smile. Captain Oakes’s eyes danced in response. My, he really was a handsome man.

  With an effort, Miss Peyton seemed to recall her annoyance. “Captain. Please. Put me down,” she said, leaving Captain Oakes no choice but to oblige. Carefully, he set her on her feet.

  “Thank you.” Her skirts snapped as she turned away from him. Behind her, unseen, Captain Oakes grinned broadly.

  “Miss Peyton always was a quick healer,” he said.

  Abruptly, Miss Peyton began favoring her left leg.

  “Ah! As I suspected,” the captain told Carolyn sotto voce. “Only Miss Peyton’s concern that we worry over her injury has given her the courage to pretend it does not hurt. But, brave creature though she is, she cannot mask such agony for long.”

  An odd sound came from Miss Peyton’s vicinity. Was she laughing? Or sniffling …?

  “Most brave,” said Carolyn. She raised her voice to make sure Miss Peyton heard her approbation. “Most considerate of you, Miss Peyton.”

  “Exactly,” said Captain Oakes. “She is the soul of consideration. The very epitome of a lady.”

  Miss Peyton turned back around. She was laughing. A rosy hue infused her porcelain skin, and her eyes gleamed.

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Neill,” she said before looking past him to Carolyn. “It’s his Irish blood, you see; he can’t resist making up stories. I am not brave. Nor am I as fine a lady as Gwendolyn Passmore. But I assure you, Lord Briarly needn’t lock his stable doors in fear that I might indulge a whim to ride a lavender horse.”

  “Of course not,” Carolyn said. “I never thought a thing, and I am sure you’re every bit as much a lady as—”

  “Please, Lady Finchley,” Kate broke in, her smile in no way reproachful. “I know who I am and confess to being unattractively satisfied with myself”—here she cast a glance so fleeting at Captain Oakes that Carolyn was not sure she’d seen it—“as, happily, are Certain Others. Certain Others whose good opinion is guided by your own.”

  Oh …? Oh! Carolyn realized. She must mean Hug
h. Miss Peyton was concerned that she might not like her and that her dislike would influence Hugh. Well, she needn’t have worried on either count. She liked Miss Peyton very much, but that was neither here nor there, as Hugh wasn’t likely to be guided by anyone.

  “I am standing here, Kate,” Captain Oakes said, and the sound of his voice, almost a purr, sent a little thrill of trepidation through Carolyn. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation with Her Ladyship now, in front of me?”

  “I am hardly likely forget your presence with you looming over me as you are, Captain. So, yes. I am very sure,” Kate answered.

  Carolyn couldn’t see that Captain Oakes was looming over anyone, but he did seem to find something gratifying in the accusation, for he smiled once again.

  “Forgive me,” he said, bowing and taking a step back, which put him a good ten feet away from the girl, who suddenly seemed to realize the unfairness of her accusation, for she blushed hotly—the first time Carolyn had seen her fall victim to such a feminine reaction. She caught Carolyn’s surprised scrutiny and blushed even more deeply. “I … I, er, I had best go and rest my ankle.”

  “Of course,” Carolyn said.

  “Allow me to escort you.” Captain Oakes held out his hand, and Kate shied away from it like one of Hugh’s unbroken fillies.

  “No! No, I … I think it will do it good to stretch it out a bit,” she explained, and hastily suited action to word as she limped away through the open front doorway.

  “I thought Miss Peyton had injured the other ankle,” Carolyn murmured, looking up at Captain Oakes.

  At once, all thoughts of which leg Miss Peyton had injured vanished at the sight of his face. It was as though Miss Peyton had taken with her all the fire and passion that had animated the young man. The lights died in his black eyes, and a shadow fell across his face, blighting his dashing good looks, making him appear weary and sober.

  Perhaps he regretted his offer to stand in for Miss Peyton’s brother Tom? Clearly it was not a natural or easy role for a young man—despite his assurances that no one else was better qualified than he to supervise Kate Peyton and that, indeed, he very much considered it his … what was the word he’d used? Not obligation or duty … She’d thought it a strange term to use at the time … atonement. That’s what he’d said; he considered it his atonement.

  She hoped he didn’t take the role too seriously. He must know that she would watch over Kate. She should remind him, so that he could relax and enjoy himself.

  “You really mustn’t take it so seriously,” she said gently.

  He turned to her, his thick black brows rising questioningly. “Ma’am?”

  “I will be happy to act as Miss Peyton’s chaperone. Young Mr. Thomas Peyton’s role as such was more show than reality. In truth, he was meant to flesh out a dearth of gentleman,” she admitted. “So you really needn’t take to heart your kind offer to see to Miss Peyton’s welfare.”

  “I am not sure Miss Peyton would agree that my offer was kind.”

  “Ah, but she is very young.”

  “Only in years,” he said in a distracted tone. “She shouldered far too many responsibilities when her mother died. There were no painted horses after that.”

  Carolyn nodded her understanding.

  “A girl should have some merriment.”

  “So should you,” Carolyn said quietly.

  He winced. “I believe many would say I had more than my share of fun when I was young. I’m afraid I gathered a rather unpalatable reputation. She always saw me as a bad influence on her brothers, you know. Trying to lure them into my reprehensible ways.”

  He was speaking once more of Miss Peyton. Poor Georgie.

  “I’m sure you will rectify whatever sins you once committed by behaving in a most exemplary fashion toward Miss Peyton.”

  “Will I?” he said quizzically, with another flash of brilliance in his ebony black eyes. His lips twisted ruefully. “Of course, you are right. She deserves only the best.”

  And inclining his head, he bid her good evening.

  Carolyn was still staring after the tall, straight figure of Captain Oakes when her brother appeared. So he had been in the garden with Miss Peyton. Well, fat lot of good it had done him.

  Whatever Miss Peyton’s assurances that she considered Hugh and herself to have a great deal in common—that being primarily their lack of interest in the haut ton, which in retrospect didn’t seem much of a basis for marriage—Captain Oakes obviously did not care a farthing for them. Carolyn had seen the expression on his face, a resolve he might have worn looking over a piece of ground he’d been ordered to take in battle, and she doubted anyone, least of all Miss Peyton, stood a chance against such resolve. Even Hugh.

  Now she had only to figure some way to break to her brother that his list was being decimated and decide on the next young woman she should offer for his contemplation.

  “Did you see a black-headed brute come by carrying Miss Peyton?” Hugh asked upon reaching her side. “Say you did; otherwise, I shall be forced to send out a search party. I don’t trust that Irish blackguard, despite his claims that he’s the girl’s guardian. He isn’t, is he?”

  “Well, in a manner of speaking. Tom Peyton did clap him on the back and gasp that he needed to watch after his sister before bolting—why are some young men so averse to a little female company?”

  “Because they know that company for an evening too often becomes companionship for life. Now about Miss Peyton—”

  “Oh. Yes. Well, Captain Oakes did carry her to the top of the steps, at which point he set her down and she hobbled inside. However did she twist her ankle, Hugh? You didn’t—”

  “Chase her?” Hugh asked sardonically. “For God’s sake, Caro, she’s a nice-looking little filly, but not so much so that I’d forget myself. As it is, you ought to be thanking me for showing restraint by not knocking that blackguard flat.”

  Carolyn stared at Hugh in horror. “What did you do?”

  “Ah. There’s the loving sister,” Hugh said. “I am roughly used by one of her guests, and she asks what I have done? I did nothing untoward or even unexpected. You told me to court a potential wife, did you not? Well, I courted Miss Peyton. Or perhaps I might more exactly say that I was about to … er, court her when that Irishman appeared and shoved me aside.”

  Captain Oakes had shoved Hugh? Oh, dear. Luckily, Hugh didn’t look angry, merely irritated. She really ought to thank him for resisting getting into a brawl and ruining her party, so she said very prettily, “It was very good of you not to retaliate, Hugh.”

  Hugh snorted. “No sense to it. The chit is mad in love with the fellow and he with her. Proper waste of time trying to get between the two of them.”

  Carolyn blinked. Though she had come to the same conclusion, it amazed her that Hugh had, too. She would never have mistaken him for a sensitive fellow. “Why would you say that? You don’t know a thing about young ladies.”

  “I don’t,” he agreed. “But Miss Peyton reminds me of a little Arabian filly I put with Richelieu last spring: shying and dancing and nipping at—”

  “Hugh!” Carolyn said, giving her brother a sharp tap on the shoulder so as to remind him that she wasn’t one of his stablemen.

  Recalled to a sense of decorum, Hugh had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “‘Scuse me, Caro,” he said. “Point is, Miss Peyton has been struck off the list, and even without the appearance of the captain, I think it’s for the best. She’s rather unnervingly businesslike, truth be told.”

  At this assessment, so near Carolyn’s own, she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, this poses a bit of a problem,” she mused, adding, “I am sorry you don’t like her, Hugh.”

  “On the contrary, I like her very well,” Hugh disagreed. “I’d just rather hire her to manage my estate than wed her to fill my bed.”

  “Hugh!”

  He shrugged. “I’d always be worrying that I might not be fulfilling my matrimonial duties sufficientl
y and require instruction, don’t you see? ‘Twould be too demoralizing.”

  She laughed outright. “You are incorrigible. My house is full of beautiful young ladies, so I’m not worried about your future. But I had rather hoped that Captain Oakes would find favor with Georgie. She always liked a man in uniform.”

  “Georgie?” Hugh exclaimed, looking far more put out than he had while relating the tussle with Oakes.

  “Yes. I cannot agree with her decision never to marry again.”

  “You were really thinking of pairing her up with Oakes? Are you daft? The man has a reputation as a regular limb of Satan hereabouts. And war will only have made him more susceptible to those demons that drove him before he bought his commission.”

  “His bad reputation comes from when he was a mere lad, Hugh. And you had a similar reputation, I might add. And, like you, I daresay he has outgrown his demons.”

  Hugh looked unconvinced. “Different, that. No, won’t have it. Besides, Georgie’s far above his touch.”

  “I would never have taken you for a snob!” Carolyn exclaimed. “Captain Oakes is wealthy, comes from an extremely old and distinguished family, and is accounted by all who knew and served with him a true war hero.”

  “Still not good enough for Georgie,” Hugh said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Yon war hero is besotted of Miss Peyton; so should Georgie even want him, she can’t have him.” There was a distinct tone of satisfaction in his voice.

  “Well, I didn’t say she wanted him,” Carolyn said, trying not to sound too curious. “Though, of course, she may. You know, Hugh, Georgie didn’t want to be on your list.”

  He looked up at her, and she saw just a shadow of something in his eyes. “She did not say that,” he stated.

  “Yes, she did.”

  “She said, and I’m quoting here, that she had a fancy never to marry again.”

  “Heavens,” Carolyn said, highly entertained. “You certainly listened carefully to that part of the conversation, Hugh.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Carolyn couldn’t repress a huge smile.