Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,23
a fist against her hip and pulled her against him. She had never considered the scandalous nature of this particular race until that moment. It was a wonder the vicar and deacons allowed such goings-on. Perhaps they were unaware of the delicious sensations generated by the close proximity of a man and woman, their hips pressed together.
“Let’s try to walk,” he said. “Middle leg first. One, two, three.”
They stepped together, circling around some of the other couples for practice.
Mr. Fry waved everyone to the starting line. “On the count of three. The first team to cross the line is the winner.”
Foxhaven’s muscles shifted and tensed. Vivi glanced up at him. His jaw was set in a determined line, his gaze focused on their destination. In that moment, she recognized nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted. A ripple of unease went through her, but she set it aside. Today she wanted what he desired, and she would help him achieve it. Tomorrow was another story.
Mr. Fry held his brown beaver hat aloft. “One, two, three.” He swung his arm down. “Go!”
Two young boys lurched ahead, their screeches making her laugh. Foxhaven hugged her and matched her pace. The leaders missed a step and fell in a tangle of legs. She and Foxhaven angled away from them and continued at a steady run. Each footfall landed at the same time and they surged ahead.
Looking to her right, she caught sight of Miss Heaton and Lord Goodrich.
“Faster!” the baron shouted as if he drove a team of horses.
Vivi focused on the string a few feet ahead. She couldn’t observe the competition if she wished to see where she was going.
“Just a little farther, my dear. You’re doing magnificent.” Foxhaven’s compliment boosted her spirits. Truly, she could run like this forever at his side.
Lord Goodrich continued to shout behind them, his voice taking on an angry edge. Miss Heaton cried out in despair as they fell farther behind.
Vivi and Foxhaven crossed the line first, laughing and a little out of breath.
“Brava, Lady Vivian!” He hugged her once more then bent to sever the tie binding them.
***
Vivi fanned the winning ribbons out on her lap. There were three in total: the one she and Foxhaven had earned in the three-legged race and two the duke had won for shooting and archery.
She squinted against the blazing afternoon sun when Foxhaven steered the curricle up the lane leading to Brighthurst House. He had a comfortable confidence about him in the way he handled the grays, his legs propped wide and his hat tipped at a jaunty angle. He possessed all the self-assurance of nobility and yet surprisingly little arrogance.
She liked his nose. Not too commanding and not too perfect with a raised ridge that spoke of a past trauma. “You lost the footrace on purpose, did you not?”
He kept his eyes on the lane in front of them. A corner of his lips twitched. “What makes you think I would lose on purpose?”
“I outran Adam Randolph three summers past when he challenged me to a race at Dottie Kennicot’s garden party.” How she missed her dearest friend, Dottie. She shook off her sadness. She hadn’t had fun in a long while, and she wouldn’t spoil the moment thinking on things that couldn’t be changed. “Mr. Randolph was in a sulk for two weeks afterward. He refused all but the curtest acknowledgment of me at church.”
Foxhaven laughed. “Poor Mr. Randolph wasn’t allowed to claim his prize. It is no wonder he was brooding.”
“What prize? There were no stakes involved.”
Foxhaven must have a fountain of happiness inside him for he never seemed to run out of smiles. “A kiss, Lady Vivian. That’s what I would have demanded in his position.”
She swung away before he spotted the telling flush searing her cheeks. “You would not, Your Grace. What a terrible tease you are.”
“I assure you, I would have.”
Gathering the ribbons in a pile, she lined up the edges. Vivi didn’t know how to respond. In the art of coquettishness, she had always remained an observer. She settled for practicality. “If you kissed me, you would feel honor bound to marry me, and we both know you desire no such association.”
He pulled the carriage off the lane and parked under a tree. Brighthurst House remained in the distance, its pitched roof peeking over a hill.
Grabbing her hand, he scooted from the seat. “Come with me.”
“Why?” Vivi’s voice squeaked. She scrambled to follow lest he drag her. Good heavens,