Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman Page 0,11

eyes. Eyes he’d once got lost in. Eyes he’d once seen his future in.

The past year certainly hadn’t served to diminish her beauty any. She was as lovely as ever. Her pert nose, dusky pink lips, and long lashes. She was tall, willowy, and blond, a work of art. A work of art with a gold-digging heart. Seeing her again physically hurt. Like a punch to the gut. He sucked air through his teeth then pasted on his most disarming smile. There was no reason not to be charming after all. He was known for it. If he wasn’t charming it would seem as if —God forbid—he cared.

She probably hated him. For good reason. The feeling was entirely mutual. But there was absolutely no reason not to be cordial to her. Especially now that she obviously had the upper hand. She was holding the key to his winning or losing his bet. And he couldn’t afford to lose.

Her voice was low when she spoke. Not exactly a whisper, but low enough to ensure no one would overhear. “It’s been a while, Rhys, but I could have sworn the last time we spoke, you were a duke.” She lifted her chin haughtily.

“And I could have sworn the last time we spoke, you were someone quite different as well; or at least appeared to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes flashed with anger.

He realized immediately he’d made a mistake. Damn. He needed to remain nonchalant and not allow emotion into this exchange. “Oh, nothing.”

“So, you’re a groomsman now?” she continued, batting her eyelashes at him prettily.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying, “Yes, and you’re still disloyal?” Instead, he said, “Temporarily, yes.”

“Care to tell me what you’re playing at?” She arched a blond brow at him.

“I’ll tell you, milady, in good time, but first, if you don’t mind, I’d like to escort you from the stables so we may have privacy in the telling.”

She eyed him warily and then glanced at the horse. “Well, I would love to ride Alabaster.”

“Of course you would.” He gave her a tight smile. “Excuse me while I saddle him again.”

Rhys led the horse back to the stall and spent a few minutes putting on the blanket and fastening the girth. He hadn’t needed Mr. Hereford’s instruction on how to properly saddle a horse. He might be a duke, but he wasn’t incompetent when it came to the proper care of horses.

He might not know how to brush out a suit like his valet or serve from the proper bowl like his footmen, but he damn well knew his way around stables. The stables on his father’s country estate had been his favorite refuge when he was a boy. They were still his favorite place when he went to Worthington Manor.

As he cinched the girth around Alabaster’s middle, Rhys was distracted with thoughts of Julianna. What the bloody hell was she doing here? And why in the bloody hell hadn’t Clayton seen fit to tell him that she’d be here? That was more than an oversight. He’d have a few choice words for Clayton when next he saw the man.

Rhys finished preparing the horse with a sidesaddle and brought him back out to where Julianna was standing.

“Where’s your mother?” he drawled in as unaffected a tone as he could muster.

“Resting with Mary. I sneaked away.”

“That sounds right.” He shouldn’t condemn her for it. It had been one of the things he’d liked about her when he’d courted her. She wasn’t the type of young woman to get all marmish and shy about sneaking off to do things that were more fun than sipping tea and dancing the waltz. Not that they’d ever done anything indecent. Well, save for that time in his study, but that had been over quickly and both of them had remained fully clothed. Mostly.

Rhys came around the side of Alabaster to help Julianna up. He bent low and weaved his fingers together, giving her a step from which to spring. Without demurring, she placed her small booted foot on his hands, and was up in one quick, fluid motion, the horn of the sidesaddle under her knee. She’d always been a good horsewoman, he had to admit reluctantly. That had been another thing he’d liked about her when they were courting.

A whiff of her perfume had struck his nostrils as he’d helped her up. The memory the scent of lilacs evoked made him clench his jaw. It was