‘I am Thomas Harrington, a minister in holy orders,’ Thomas said, getting to his feet.
Will merely rocked back on his heels and looked up dismissively. Despite herself, Verity could not help being impressed both by the sheer arrogance with which he ignored the implicit threat of the large, fit man towering over him and the lightly reined strength and anger she could feel emanating from him.
‘I do not care if you are the Archbishop of Canterbury, sir.’ If he had held up a placard over her head reading, Mine, Verity thought he could have hardly made his attitude clearer.
‘I fear you have the advantage of me, sir.’ There was a hint of doubt in Harrington’s voice now and something else, an interest that made Verity look from him to Will with a sinking sense of dread.
Don’t tell him who you are. She almost said it aloud.
Will stood. ‘I am Aylsham.’
‘The Duke?’
‘I am not aware of another.’
She could not decide whether Will wanted to provoke a fight or simply cow the other man, but whichever it was, he was reinforcing the idea in Harrington’s nimble mind that she mattered to the Duke and that gave him an advantage in a game that he clearly expected to play according to his rules.
‘My apologies, Your Grace. I did not recognise you.’
Will shrugged. ‘Why should you? I doubt we move in the same circles.’
It was clearly a rhetorical question and Harrington’s jaw clenched before he managed to accept the snub with a smile. ‘Miss Wingate, if an old friend can be of no further assistance I will leave you in the capable hands of the Duke. I will call at the earliest opportunity, as I am sure you would expect. Good day.’
His companion, who had been sitting astride his horse, the reins of Harrington’s mount in one hand, raised his hat and the two turned and rode away.
As I am sure you would expect.
That had been a threat. Thomas would call and make clear his demands for keeping quiet about their past. He thought she had, by some miracle, hooked a duke and would be entirely at his mercy. If he revealed that he had taken her virginity, then he could expect Will to break off the connection instantly.
But what could he hope to gain? Verity wondered as Will bent and drew her to her feet. She had little money of her own, her father no longer had influence over appointments and advancement. Was it simply revenge for the loss of his dignity?
‘Thank you,’ she said to Will, who took her elbow, walked her slowly to a bench under a tree, gave her a look which promised a lengthy discussion to come and turned on his heel to stalk across to the phaeton.
One of his companions hauled the Viscount upright to face Will. There was an exchange of words that she could not hear, then both men walked towards her. Sedgley stopped a few feet away. ‘Miss Wingate. I trust you are not hurt. I must apologise for the actions of mine which led to the accident.’
Verity inclined her head. It made her jarred neck ache, but that was worth enduring for the appearance of dignity. ‘I accept your apology, my lord. And I apologise for stabbing you in the thigh with my hatpin, causing you to lose control of your team.’
Everyone looked with interest at the Viscount’s tight buff pantaloons, now much begrimed, then back at Verity.
‘I do not suppose anyone has seen my hatpin?’ Verity asked sweetly.
‘I am certain Lord Sedgley will replace it,’ Will said. ‘Just as I am certain that he will find himself refreshed by walking home after he has kindly loaned me his vehicle to convey you, Miss Wingate. You will not mind leading my mount, Shipley?’
Will waited until he had assured himself that the four greys were uninjured and calm enough to carry on, had her seated comfortably beside him and the others had ridden off, before he spoke. ‘Whatever possessed you?’
How does he know?
‘He seemed perfectly respectable. Papa thought highly of his intellect—’
‘The Bishop knows Sedgley?’
‘Oh. No. I mistook your meaning. No,
Papa does not know the Viscount. Driving with him was an error of judgement on my part. I had heard about his famous greys and I thought I could manage him. And the hatpin worked exceedingly well.’
‘So well that you almost broke your neck,’ Will said. The team, that had been walking sedately, tossed their heads. ‘You had set out to flirt, set out to make me jealous.’
‘I had no idea you would be at the musicale. I was merely enjoying myself.’ She was sounding defensive now. Verity swallowed the urge to excuse herself and went on the attack. ‘And you have no cause to be jealous of me. You have absolutely no claim on me.’ One sideways glance at his profile made her add, disastrously, ‘It is just your pride and possessiveness, your feelings are not engaged in the slightest.’