Page 22 of The Marquess and the Maiden

Chapter Six

After his impromptu spying on her, Harriet was tempted to cancel their entire agreement. He could find his own wife. Except she truly needed that townhome. She didn’t want her skills dulled, neither did Agnes and a few of her other close friends from the Ladies of Virtue.

They needed a place to continue their practice. She couldn’t deny that, though she might not find him amiable, she instinctively recognized that she could trust him. He didn’t appear to be fond of anyone in this town nor was he a gossip. Still, it made her uneasy that he’d seen her in such a way.

And he’d gotten so close to her. She’d been able to feel the heat from his body and smell the woodsy scent of him. Then the hard length of him pressed against her. There’d been no mistaking that. Her body had reacted so strongly. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted him to do more than kiss her.

But that was preposterous. She chalked it up to the fact that she’d been lonely for much of her adult life. Granted, she pretended as if it were perfectly acceptable to her that she hadn’t found a husband or even had any serious suitors. None of that changed the fact that she wanted to get married, and she’d settle for nothing less than a love match. It had worked for her parents as well as her sister.

Waiting for love also kept her safe from any other potentially humiliating scenarios like the one she’d shared with Oliver six years ago when he’d so harshly rejected her and her dowry. If she insisted on waiting for a love match, no one would be able to hurt her. The waiting had gone on for so long, though, she was nearly certain there was no one out there to love her. But she didn’t need a husband to make her happy. She had the Ladies of Virtue, and she refused to let some mysterious and anonymous woman destroy their group.

Which meant that Harriet needed to maintain her agreement with Lord Davenport so she could continue to use that townhome. She’d sent a message to him earlier, requesting they meet at the Crystal Palace. It was the perfect location for her to point out prospective brides to him without it being too obvious. Tonight there was a special concert being held, and she knew that plenty of marriageable women would be there. All for his choosing.

It was so much easier for men. She rolled her eyes. They could practically step into a room and point at any woman and demand she marry him, provided he had a title or wealth.

“Already irritated, I see. I didn’t think I was that late.”

His voice poured over her like warmed chocolate, and she nearly sighed. What is the matter with me? He was an annoying man. One who knew far too many of her secrets.

She looked up at him and sucked in a breath. While he hadn’t shaved, he had trimmed his beard, and he’d tied his hair back in a queue. He gave her a wolfish grin.

“You look particularly fetching today, Lady Harriet. That color suits you quite well,” he said.

She frowned.

“You disagree?”

“Stop wasting your time flirting with me. We have a mutual agreement. You have fulfilled your end, or at least part of it, by allowing me to use the Burkes townhome. But I must know, are you going to tell anyone what you discovered about me?” she asked in a whisper.

“About your special skills?”

Despite his beard, she could see the effects of his smile. Her heart stuttered. Blast him for being so handsome. “Yes, about that.”

“Of course not. All of your secrets are safe with me, sweet Harriet.”

It was on her tongue to inquire as to what other secrets he thought he knew, but she decided it was best to not open that particular Pandora’s box. “Thank you. Now it is up to me to fulfill my end of the bargain and find you a bride.”

“Very well then, lead on, my lady.” He held his elbow out to her, but she ignored it and walked forward.

They walked silently for a moment before she spotted a possible candidate for him.

“Do you see the girl over there, the one in the green dress with the reddish-brown hair?”

He nodded.

“That is Jane Spencer, and she is sweet. She is quite popular at balls, because she’s a glorious dancer and—”

“I cannot dance,” he said flatly.

“Of course.” Why was it that she always seemed to flaunt that to him? It wasn’t intentional. She rarely noticed his cane or his limp. Though she knew others did. There were fantastic stories and theories of how he’d injured himself. She wasn’t certain anyone knew the truth.

“Perhaps you want to tell me what you’re looking for in a wife.”

“I prefer fair-haired ladies.” His eyes met hers. “And curves I can grab onto, particularly for activities in the bedroom.” He let his gaze sweep down her body. Slowly.

She knew her cheeks heated. And her chest. She probably glowed from the blush. And she found it difficult to breathe. She felt exposed, as if he could see every flaw she hid beneath her blue gown. Of course, he hadn’t meant her. She had far too many curves. There were others that fit his criteria.

“Lady Tabitha.” She gently motioned with her head to the woman perusing the jewelry display in the Renaissance court. “Looks to be what you’re looking for. She is a quiet girl, polite, yet well-read enough to voice an opinion when she has one.” Then she frowned. “I am told she has a penchant for small dogs.”

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