Page 15 of A Deal with the Rebellious Marquess
‘Shouldn’t you be inside dancing?’ Pleasant, familiar tenor tones teased from behind her and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease.
She turned, taking in the welcome sight of a familiar face, her thoughts tripping over just how welcome Umberton was. How was it that he’d come to claim such a coveted spot in such a short time? Hadn’t they just been arguing over that exact thing today and here she was feeling as if she had a partner now, someone to face the evening with. ‘Umberton, this is a surprise.’
He came around the bench to take the spot beside her, looking well turned out in his dark evening clothes, not unlike the way he’d looked the night at the theatre. ‘A pleasant surprise, I hope?’ he asked with a smile that managed to communicate a little humility on his part, as if he wasn’t sure of what his reception might be after their afternoon developments. She liked a man who knew the limits of his arrogance.
‘Yes, a pleasant surprise,’ she assured him. She would have to explore later exactly why she found his presence so pleasant. ‘I didn’t expect you. Why have you come?’
‘Because we have unfinished business.’
Literally, figuratively. He’d not been able to stop thinking about her. Jasper let his gaze linger, taking in the loveliness of her as his mind continued the unspoken answer to her question.
Because you’re here. Because I didn’t want to wait to see you again. Because I may not have you to myself much longer due to our circumstances. Because I wanted one night with you before things got complicated.
That last was debatable. It was already complicated.
She gave a soft laugh in the darkness. ‘I realised after you left that we never got around to making any plans.’
‘Perhaps if you walk with me, we could make those plans now. The Harefield garden is quite pretty for a town garden.’ He’d love to show her the gardens at Rosefields in full summer bloom, to walk the gravel paths while trying to match the scent of her to one of the many flowers there. But that was a fantasy. In all likelihood she would not be speaking to him by then. He wasn’t supposed to care about that when his charade had begun. He was to care only for his brother’s reputation. But now he cared for both and wasn’t sure how to reconcile the two, or even if they could be reconciled.
He rose and held out his arm for her to take. ‘May I say you look lovely tonight? Green becomes you.’ The deep summer-green gown brought out the jade of her eyes, the auburn of her hair, the cream of her skin. She’d looked like a painting when he’d spied her in the garden. He’d stood back a few moments when he’d arrived to simply take her in: the curve of her jaw in profile, framed gently by the soft length of an auburn curl draped over her shoulder. He’d taken in more than her beauty. He’d noted a sense of resignation.
Something in the evening had saddened her. Was it that she was alone? Or was it that shewasn’talone? Had being among people brought it all back? His mother had once told him after his father died that it had been difficult to go out and do the things she’d once done with his father. Those activities seemed empty without him.
The poignancy of Fleur Griffiths’s sadness mixed with her beauty had stolen his thought, his very breath. He’d needed the moment to gather himself, to remember why he was here. Reconnaissance. His brother was counting on him, the family’s reputation was counting on him and she was a threat to that. Although it was hard to believe it when he saw her as she was now, alone, sad, fragile. Perhaps because he didn’twantto believe it.
‘I appreciate the compliment.’ She smiled and took his arm. ‘I admit that I was out here feeling sorry for myself. It was harder than I thought to go to a ball alone.’
‘You’re missing him?’ he said quietly, digesting her confession and what it meant. ‘It’s your first ball?’ He should have realised based on what she’d shared about her outing to the theatre. For all the external toughness Fleur Griffiths displayed with her sharp wit and quick temper, there was a softness, a vulnerability beneath that she kept well hidden. Did he dare believe he was the only one allowed to see it? Best not to be taken in by it, though. Empathy was an emotional response.
She gave a sigh. ‘Yes, to both questions.’ They stopped beside one of the small fountains in the garden and she trailed a hand in the basin. ‘As long as I think about tonight as work, it’s not so bad. I have made some connections. We will make more tomorrow night. I thought we could attend the Langston rout. It attracts the political crowd.’
‘You should go.’ He headed the suggestion in a different direction. The sooner she was disabused of the idea that they would go places together, the better. He could sustain his ruse a while longer. ‘I’ll go to Lady Elmore’s.’
‘Divide and conquer?’ She slid him a considering look, but he heard a hint of disappointment in her voice. He liked to think she would miss his company. He would miss hers.
‘I think it’s our best hope of moving quickly and of avoiding any speculation that we might be conflating business and pleasure. I would hate for legislation to suffer because someone misunderstands our association.’
She arched a slim auburn brow. ‘Or perhaps you’re worried about your reputation suffering? Perhaps you’ve realised that you should not be too closely linked with me. I am hardly of your set and, as you say, people will talk, especially when unattached men and women are together no matter what the reason.’
It sounded awful when she put it that way. ‘You make me out to be a snob.’ It also sounded like something his mother would say. That Fleur Griffith was wealthy because her husband hadworkedfor his money. ‘I am not embarrassed to be seen with you, if that’s what you mean,’ he replied. If she knew who he was, it would be she who would be embarrassed to be seen with him.
‘It’s just a fact. It’s how the world is. I know it first-hand.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I was raised by my aunt and uncle. My uncle is an earl’s second son and they had no children of their own. They had aspirations for me, primarily that I marry a title of my own. Brixton, in fact, was their grand hope. If not Brixton, then the young heir to the Taunton viscountcy. Taunton hadn’t any money, but he had a title and that was all that mattered.’
She sighed and gave a shake of her head. ‘But I fell in love with Adam and I refused to be swayed. My aunt and uncle were all the family I had, but they couldn’t get past their disappointment in me. I’d failed them by choosing my heart. They didn’t come to the wedding and I haven’t seen or heard from them since.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jasper reached for her hand in an offer of comfort. The confession had saddened her. He’d not intended for that. Hewassorry. Sorry that her family had disowned her, sorry that she still felt she’d failed them because she’d made her own choices instead of following theirs. ‘Do you have regrets?’ he asked softly. Had losing her family for what amounted to eight years of marriage been worth it? Had Adam Griffiths, kisser extraordinaire, been worth it?
‘Regret not marrying Brixton or Taunton?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Brixton never looked my way and I hear Taunton is trying to put funds together for a risky venture to import alpacas.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I would have suited either of them.’
Thank goodness, Jasper thought, because she suited him quite well. ‘You gave up more than your family, though. You gave up a lifestyle. You could have been a duchess or a viscountess.’ Marrying Adam Griffiths had taken her out of the peerage, out of the life she’d been raised in: the Season in spring, grouse-hunting in the autumn, Christmas at country houses and back to town when the roads cleared to do it all over again. Adam Griffiths was a businessman, a man who worked every day on Fleet Street, who was wealthier than many, but still carried ink stains on his fingers.
‘It might surprise you to know that all I ever wanted was to be a storyteller. In a way, I got to be that with Adam. I wrote features for the papers. After the flood, I collected stories from the survivors and had them printed. I never aspired to a title.’ She gave him a strong look. ‘I like to decide for myself who a person is. Titles are not people and people are not titles.’
Jasper hoped she’d believe that once she knew whohewas. Inside, a waltz began, its strains drifting out to the garden through the open doors. He held out his hand in an uncharacteristic burst of spontaneity. ‘Dance with me.’
‘Why? What has brought this on?’ She laughed, something flashing in her eyes that alerted him to danger. He needed to tread carefully. She was vulnerable tonight and he was intoxicated by her, by her stories, the glimpse into her life. He already knew how want and need could flare between them, how it tasted, how it begged for more.
He flashed a smile as she gave him her hand. ‘I want to prove to you I don’t mind being seen with you.’ He was playing with fire as he swung her into position, his hand at her waist, her hand at his shoulder. ‘We’re as proper as Almack’s. See, nothing to worry about.’ An absolute lie although he wanted to believe it. There waseverythingto worry about. This woman was magic. He could have listened to her stories all night, asked a thousand questions, so immersed had he been sitting beside her at the fountain. Had Adam Griffiths known what a wife he’d had? Had he guessed the depths of all she’d given up for him? He’d like to think he wasn’t envious of a dead man, but he wasn’t sure he wasn’t.
