Page 2 of The Rules of Matrimony
“Mama is driving Uncle mad,” the woman continued, her articulation notably genteel. “We’ve been here a fortnight, and already she is determined that we will be homeless. Oh, I know; she means well. I suppose I am not being charitable. My mind is all but consumed with our situation.” The woman produced a heavy sigh, deepenough to match the ones he’d exerted. “Cousin Robertis back from his trip. I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else, but Uncle still indulges Robert’s every whim, and I’m afraid Robert is quite spoiled.” Her voice turned desperate. “I’m even more afraid Cousin Robert sees me as his next prize to collect. What if Uncle givesmeto him? Oh, Papa, what am I to do?”
A sympathetic chord struck in Ian’s chest. He tipped his hat back, leaned forward on his elbows, and took a longer glance—this one with actual interest. The woman had hunched down but was not quite kneeling. The angle made it difficult to discern more than a few details about her. She was of marriageable age, with unruly, curly brown hair and wore a dark-brown dress covered by a rather ugly knitted shawl.
Many women found themselves in similar, pitiful situations, where their very future depended upon their relatives. It irked Ian to no end to hear of a young lady being abused. Blasted people. If the plight of the human race weren’t his greatest weakness, he would despise more humans.
He massaged his brow. It was better not to know their problems because then he felt obligated to do something about them. It was the calling of the Rebels, he and his friends liked to say, to fight against the injustices of Society. But such battles were not without their drawbacks. No one could help everyone. It was impossible, if not exhausting. And this morning, Ian needed to help himself before he lost his mind over his father’s controlling, aggravating ways.
Collapsing back against the prickly grass, he set his hat over his eyes once more. He would pay the young lady no mind. He was sleeping—the single, sure way to escape the weight on his shoulders.
More voices sounded in the distance. They were only passing by. Nothing he couldn’t ignore too.
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” the young lady mumbled in low frustration. He heard a rustle of fabric, but he chose to ignore whatever had her flustered. Maybe she would finally leave and give him the peace andquiet he had come for. Her footfalls brought her closer to him. A gasp sounded a moment later, far too close for comfort.
“Sir? Sir?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn’t respond, she would cease speaking to him. Anoofsounded beside him, and he sensed more than felt that she had sat down.
This wasn’t happening. Why must he forever be surrounded by people?
Make her go away!
This prayer, among other silent frustrations directed toward heaven, was not answered.
A weight hit his chest, and arms circled about him.His hat flopped off his face, and his eyes flew wide. What madness was this? She—a perfectstranger—was hugging him. And her blasted head was resting on his chest!
This wasn’t the first time a woman had tried to place him in a compromising situation in the hopes of a good marriage, but there was no way this woman even knew who he was.
How desperate was she?
“Miss, please release me,” Ian said.
The young lady’s head swung up, and her piercing brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, dazed him. For a moment, he didn’t react—didn’t know how to. He blinked away what was surely a rush from raising his head so quickly and not because of her startling gaze.
Thankfully, his senses returned. “Miss, I must insist.”
She seemed caught in the same daze. “I thought you were dead! I—I was listening to your heart.” She sat up quickly, dropping her arms from his chest and taking with them a warmth he immediately missed.
Because his clothing was damp from the dew on the ground, obviously, and not because he missed her nearness. He shook his head. Honestly. Of all the ways to meet a person.
He really could have used that nap.
“As you can see,” he said, sitting up, “I am far from dead.” His heart, on the other hand, now that was negotiable. Although, at the moment, it was beating an erratic rhythm, as though he’d run a foot race ... or had had a woman lay on his chest. It couldn’t possibly be from those luminous eyes. No, his fatigue was confusing him.
She drew back a few more inches and visibly gulped. “Well, you never know. Someone could have dumped your body here. It is a graveyard.” There was nothing fanciful about her voice. It was sure and resolute.
“Your imagination is impressive, but—”
“Shh!” The young lady pressed her finger up to his mouth. The voices from the road were growing louder. Anxiety flooded her eyes. Her response was intense enough that he allowed her to leave her finger poised on his lips.
It smelled like vanilla.
He loved vanilla.
But no one was allowed to touch his mouth, he reminded himself, and he snatched her finger away. “No one shushes me.” He wasn’t angry but astonished. He didn’t know how to respond to her boldness.Hewas usually the bold one, and most were too intimidated to order him to do anything—except his father, of course. At least she hadn’t been trying to trap him, as he’d first thought.
She frantically shook her head. “Oh, please don’t speak. They’ll hear you.”
“Who arethey?” he obediently whispered.
