Montgomery.
But as disgusted as he was with Lady Julianna, Rhys was even more disgusted with himself. He’d been the fool who’d fancied himself falling in love with the chit.
Love? Ha. He’d known his entire life that emotion didn’t exist. Hadn’t his father told him enough? And yet courting Julianna all those months ago had made him feel things he’d never felt.
It was a good thing he’d been called away when he had. He’d bloody well been on the verge of offering for her. In fact, it hadn’t been until after the accident, after it had all been too late, that his valet had read that fateful copy of the Times to him. John had got in the habit of reading him the paper every day. He’d recited the story about the gorgeous Lady Julianna Montgomery and how she’d been forced to set her sights on Murdock, having let the last eligible duke slip through her fingers.
Rhys had nearly vomited that day. He’d given John some excuse for needing to be alone, and he’d nearly wretched into his wash bowl. It had taken him several minutes to pull himself together and steel his resolve. Lady Julianna had been an excellent actress, nothing more, and his own damned desire to be noble and do the right thing for once—a desire she’d inspired in him, ironically—had kept him from offering for her before he left that spring.
And after—after—offering for her had been out of the question. Or at least it had been until…recently. But she’d done him a courtesy. She’d gone and betrothed herself to someone else. Well, Murdock could have the actress. Rhys would do quite fine remaining a bachelor.
“Yes, milady,” Mr. Hereford’s voice rang out from the entrance to the stables. “One of the Arabians be right over there. I’m certain our newest groomsman, Mr. Worthy, will be ‘appy ta show ‘im ta ye.”
Rhys smiled as he brushed the horse’s side one last time. Mr. Hereford had obviously raised his voice so Rhys would hear that one of the young ladies from the house party had arrived. Time for his first performance. He just hoped whoever her chaperone was didn’t recognize him. At any rate, he could pretend as well as Kendall and Bell.
Rhys cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and put on his most charming and devilish smile. The one that was certain to make this young lady swoon. He rounded the back of the horse to come out of the stall and greet her.
The moment he saw her, he felt both the charm and the devilishness slide right off his face. She sauntered toward him in an emerald-green riding habit and dark-brown leather boots, with a crop in her hand. Of all the ladies in the world, what in the bloody hell was Lady Julianna Montgomery doing here? She was no debutante!
Chapter Four
Julianna stopped walking when the groomsman brought the Arabian toward her. The man’s face was hidden on the far side of the impressive horse.
“Here he be,” called the stablemaster. “Alabaster.”
Julianna allowed her gaze to travel the horse. His high crest, his elegant back, his fine flank, his lovely strong legs, his glorious hooves. “Oh, look at him,” she exclaimed, clasping her hands and the crop to her chest. “He is magnificent, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” came an arrogant, deep, and somewhat familiar-sounding voice from the other side of the horse. “And the horse isn’t bad either.”
Julianna blinked, then narrowed her eyes. Had she heard the man correctly? Of all the impudent, arrogant, inappropriate things for a groomsman to say. Something about the voice made the skin on the back of her neck tingle, however. She knew that voice.
She swallowed. Hard. Bless it. What in the devil was he doing here?
Julianna took a deep reassuring breath just as Rhys Sheffield stepped out from the other side of the horse. He executed a deep bow. “My lady.”
Julianna blinked again. What was this? Why in the world was he dressed as a… a…groomsman? She tilted her head to the side, staring at him as if either he or she had lost their mind. Surely one of them had.
“Lady Julianna,” the stablemaster said. “This is Alabaster.” He pointed to the horse. “And this is our newest stablehand, Mr. Worthy.” He pointed to the man. The stablemaster’s eyes darted to and fro and he tugged at his collar, looking quite uncomfortable. Obviously, the man didn’t think for a moment that the duke standing next to them was a blessed stablehand. What exactly was going