Page 54 of Not his Marchioness
“In Japan and here,” he said as he set her down.
Charlotte stepped forward. Gorgeous hummingbirds of all colors perched on the branches. She breathed in the sweet air and closed her eyes. She noted the slight movement behind her, and when she opened her eyes again, she was not surprised to find Rhys standing before her.
He reached out and cupped her face. “Do you like it?”
“I do. Very much. Thank you.” She gazed up at him.
He bent forward, his lips drawing closer. The scent of peppermint still lingered on his breath.
His lips were on hers before she could say anything further. Her eyes closed, and a rush of something wonderful swept through her body—a sensation she had never experienced before. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stepped closer, his kiss growing more passionate, more demanding with each second.
“Rhys,” she whispered. “Oh, Rhys!”
Her own voice pulled her out of her dream, and she sat up as if summoned.
Outside, rain pelted the windows, but the sweet scent of the cherry blossom she had just imagined had been replaced by the more unpleasant smell of a fireplace gone cold.
She shivered and drew her blankets tighter around herself.
However had this happened? How had she allowed herself to dream of him? Her brain was as much a traitor as her feet when it came to him, it seemed. Just as her feet would cross any room to stand nearer to him, and her hands kept rising of their own accord to touch him, her mind had decided to take its own course and allow her dreams to be haunted by him.
Her hand wandered to her lips, and she remembered their kiss. Not the one from the dream, but the one from the ball.
How had he dared to kiss her? And without her permission!
It had been… infuriating, and yet romantic. Everyone had stared at them, not in the way one stares at a curiosity, but the way someone regards something they envy.
The young ladies had envied her handsome husband and their passionate dance and their kiss, which would set the entire ton talking.
She shook her head. This was quite ridiculous.
She rose from her bed and walked over to her writing desk. She fumbled through the match case; the scent of sulfur invaded her nostrils, but the little flame instantly illuminated her surroundings. She took out a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill.
She had to distract herself somehow.
Dear Marianne,
I do hope you have been keeping well. How I wish you were here! I have Evelyn, yes, and Margot, which is a blessing and comfort in itself, but I miss you terribly. My sister, always so pragmatic, always so steadfast. I could use your counsel.
I do not know what to make of it all. He is so utterly vexing, this husband of mine. By now, you might have heard about the spectacle we caused at Lady Swanson’s ball. I dare say she willnever invite us again. The first time, I appeared as a vision in scarlet, declaring my unwillingness to marry one worthless rake. The second time, I appeared as the wife of another.
We danced together and quarreled. I can barely recall what we quarreled about. He had tried to help me with my school—did I tell you about my school? The notion struck me out of nowhere. I knew I had to do something to fill my time, and I thought, why not establish a school for those underprivileged souls who wish to learn?
I am endeavoring to establish it with some of the other ladies, to find ways to ensure that those who wish to attend do not suffer financially, for of course, it will take up much of their time…
She sat back and blew a curl from her face. Here she was, rambling about everything save the matter at hand. She set the quill down and rose, pacing up and down the room.
Why had she been so vexed with Rhys? He had only tried to help her. Approaching Lord Woodhaven in the manner he had would most certainly prove beneficial. And if she had Woodhaven on her side…
Had it bothered her because the idea was not her own? Because she was unwilling to accept his aid?
She was not entirely certain.
Her husband had not deserved such treatment. He was quite right—he had only endeavored to help her, after all.
The more she contemplated it, the more she realized that one of the reasons she had been so upset was that by acting so gallantly, by helping her with her endeavors, he was challenging her perception of him.
Rakes did not care for others’ welfare. Then again, that had not always been his reputation, had it? Even the sticklers of the ton considered him a cut above the rest.
