Page 33 of The Marquess and the Maiden

“Whatever for? It wasn’t your fault.” They had very nearly returned to her house, and he wasn’t yet ready to leave her company. “Needless to say, I had to do some cleaning up after him. Eventually, I was able to make a small investment, which I doubled. Then I did it again. I kept going until everything was paid off and I was able to right some of his other wrongs.”

“But you never stopped investing and acquiring wealth?” she asked.

“No. One can never be certain what the next day brings. I prefer to be overly prepared.” He slowed his horse, and she followed suit, her eyes rounding when she realized where they were.

“That was fast.” She bit down on her lip. “Perhaps you’d care for a cup of tea before you return home, my lord?”

He smiled. “I would, indeed.” Benedict and his mother might be right, courting Harriet could persuade her to agree to be his wife. He jumped down from his steed, careful to land on his good leg, then he moved to her and helped her down, easing her to the ground while standing so close to her that her body brushed against him on her way down.

She sucked in a breath, and her cheeks grew pink. “I shall request tea in the garden. Would be a pity to waste the rest of this beautiful afternoon sitting inside.”

He wasted no time following her inside, then out to the garden where they sat upon a stone bench beneath a trellis. A climbing yellow rosebush arched over them. He rubbed at his thigh.

“Is your leg bothering you?”

He nodded, ignoring the pang of affection that her question caused. His injury made other people uncomfortable and pity him. Not Harriet, she was seemingly neither put off by it nor did she want to ignore it. “It often does after long rides.”

“Then whatever were you thinking to suggest such a thing?” She frowned and reached forward as if to touch him, then thought better of it and put her hand back in her lap.

“I wanted to spend time with you. Riding in Hyde Park is an acceptable activity for a man and woman who are, as yet, unmarried.” He moved his hand from his leg, gripped the ball at the top of his cane instead. His pain was troublesome for her, and he didn’t want to detract from any enjoyment this afternoon excursion had brought her.

A maid wheeled a tea trolley out and parked it in front of them. “Thank you, Mary,” Harriet said. “That will be all.” The maid curtsied and went back inside through the French doors.

“Do you take sugar?” Harriet asked.

“I do. Some would say I like my tea too sweet.”

She grinned, handed him a cup, and passed over the sugar bowl.

“What is the smile for?” he asked.

“I was thinking you are greedy in every regard. That was unkind, though, forgive me.”

His insides warmed. “There is nothing to forgive. Your perception is accurate. I am a man of limited tastes, but when I find something I want, my desire for that thing is unwavering.” He settled his eyes on hers and watched the brown of her irises disappear as her black pupils expanded. Her lips parted.

She broke her gaze away and took a sip of her tea.

“Has there been any more information regarding the person intent upon destroying your Ladies of Virtue?” he asked.

“Sadly, no. We are still sorely lacking in clues to her identity.”

“You are certain it is a woman?”

Her head tilted. “Only because it was a woman who gave the story to Lord Ashby.”

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Harriet, you know I wish to marry you. I’m told, though, I should recognize that you are not so certain about my intentions. My mother suggested a country house party at Brookhaven.”

“Yes, she has been in contact with me about it. We have already sent out invitations,” Harriet said.

His mother worked quickly, no doubt recognizing he was not a man known for his patience.

“I have invited a lovely group of girls that I think you will approve of.”

He wasn’t interested in other girls, but he knew those words would fall upon deaf ears. Harriet would believe his actions more so than any spoken promises. He reached over and took her hand, then gently flipped it over and brought her wrist to his lips. He lingered, allowing his breath and mouth to imprint themselves upon her.

“Thank you for a lovely afternoon, Harriet. I shall see you soon.” Then he stood and walked away.

…

---