Page 5 of The Duke and His Cinderella
He rounded a corner—and found himself face to face with another young lady, this one in a peacock mask. He had no idea who she was, but he was startled to see that she was on her own in the garden. “Oh,” he said. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to intrude—are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” the young lady said.
“Would you like me to get someone for you?”
“No,” she said. Her tone was rather stubborn, he thought. “I don’t need anything. You don’t need to do anything. You can be on your way.”
“Well, I can hardly leave you out here all on your own,” he said. “That wouldn’t be proper.”
She frowned. “Are you suggesting that it would be proper for a gentleman to linger alone in the garden with a lady? I hardly think that’s the sort of thing either one of us ought to do.”
“I’m only trying to make sure you’re all right,” he protested.
“Well, I’m fine. And I certainly don’t require assistance from a rake such as yourself.”
“That’s quite an assumption you’ve made about my character,” Nicholas said, not sure whether to feel offended or amused.
“I can’t think what else would compel you to stay out here in the garden with someone you don’t know at all,” she said. “The only conclusion I can draw is that you have nefarious intentions.”
“It couldn’t possibly be true that my intentions are pure? That I really do want to make sure you’re safe out here?”
“I’m perfectly safe. I’m sitting on a bench!” She let out an exasperated sigh. “People really do think young ladies are helpless. What do you imagine could happen to me sitting on a garden bench?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were helpless,” he said.
“Oh, it isn’t just you. My parents, my sister…everyone in my life thinks of me the same way. I wish I could make them see how far off they are. I wish people could understand that Iamcapable of looking after myself. But I don’t think people want young ladies to be capable of anything. I’m sure you don’t. You want to come out here and save me from some imaginary threat—I’m sure that will make you feel like a hero—and then you can return to your life and think of yourself as having been strong and noble, as having protected me when I was in the grave peril ofsitting on a bench. It doesn’t suit your purposes to realize that I don’t need you.”
He could see that she was upset about something having nothing to do with him. He understood. Families could be difficult. “All right,” he said. “You don’t need me. But you don’t own this garden either, so you can’t stop me from staying out here.”
He sat down on the bench, keeping a decent space between the two of them.
She looked away. He wondered for a moment if she would get up and go back inside just to be rid of him, but she didn’t. Perhaps she was just happier to be in the garden.
“We can just talk,” he told her.
She looked at him.
“You don’t have to let me save you, or protect you, or whatever it was you were concerned about,” he said. “We can just talk.”
She bit her lip. Nicholas was relieved to see that something he had said had finally gotten through to her, even if only in a very shallow way—he had persuaded her at last to stop arguing. Whether the two of them could talk or not remained to be seen, but he would make the attempt, and he would sit there with her until she was ready to go back inside. In spite of what she seemed to believe, he did care about her well-being. He had no desire to see a young lady come to harm or distress during his ball.
“What brings you out here all alone?” he asked her.
“My parents are arranging a marriage for me.”
“I see.”
“You must think there isn’t anything in that for a young lady to be unhappy about.”
“On the contrary,” he told her. “I’ve been encouraged into marriages I didn’t want in my life. I know how unpleasant that can be.”
“You’re fortunate, then, to be a gentleman and to have the power to say no to such things.” She peeled off the gloves she wore and set them on the bench beside her.
At once, Nicholas noticed the scar on her hand. It had long since healed, but he could see that it was the souvenir of a serious injury, and it made him want to ask her what had happened. He restrained himself, though—she had clearly been wearing those gloves to conceal that scar, and he didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious now that she’d chosen to remove them. He pretended he hadn’t noticed anything instead.
“I suppose I am fortunate,” he said. “But I do have hope that your marriage will bring you good things, even if those things are unexpected.”
“An optimistic thought,” the lady said. “I’m not as hopeful. I believe it will be dreadful, and there will be little happiness left to me once it happens.”
