by Anna Bradley
He almost laughed when her chin shot up. That hadn’t taken long.
“Yes. I’ve also ripped the hem of my gown.”
“Of course you have. Anything else?”
“Are you making a list, my lord? Very well, then. If you must know, I believe I’ve bent my stays.”
Finn’s gaze snapped to her bodice, and once it was there, it took all his concentration to tear it away. He cleared his throat. “Races are one way to spend an afternoon, I suppose.”
“Yes, and rather an enjoyable one, as it turns out. Bowls grow dull after a while, but one can’t say the same of racing.”
“One can’t say the same of Lord Wrexley, either. He’s rather exciting from beginning to end, isn’t he?”
She shrugged. “He’s great fun, yes.”
Some of the tension in Finn’s jaw eased. A lady didn’t refer to a gentleman she was enamored with as “great fun.” Miss Somerset wasn’t in love with Lord Wrexley. Not yet, at least. As long as she remained indifferent to him she was in less danger, but Wrexley’s charm was insidious. He’d turned more than one young lady’s head, with disastrous results. By the time Miss Somerset realized he was manipulating her, it would be too late.
“But you knew it wasn’t a proper activity—no, don’t bother to deny it, Miss Somerset. I can see by your blush you did know it.”
To Finn’s surprise, a grin drifted over her lips. “Yes, I knew it, but proper things are never great fun, are they? When was the last time you ran a race, Lord Huntington? I daresay a bit of impropriety would do you a world of good.”
He frowned, taken aback by the question. “I don’t recall.” Had he ever run a race? Surely he must have, when he was much younger, but if he had, he didn’t remember it. “I’m not sure I ever have.”
“You’ve never run a race? Ever?” She stared at him for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to make of him, then she reached out her hand and rested it on his arm in an almost comforting gesture. “That’s not…well, perhaps marquesses don’t run races.”
“Some do, I think. Just not me.” Finn shrugged, but every nerve in his body strained toward the place where she touched him, his gaze fixed on her slender white fingers curled into his coat.
“You still could, you know.” She swept her hand from his head to his boots. “You’d have to remove your coat, and loosen your cravat. Not quite the thing for such a proper gentleman, I suppose.”
Finn blinked at her, puzzled. Was she teasing him? No one ever teased him. “Or a proper lady.”
“Come now, my lord. It’s not as if I raced down Rotten Row during the fashionable hour. This is a house party in the country, not Hyde Park. The ton will never know I ran across a bowling green, or that Lord Wrexley saw my ankles. My reputation isn’t in danger here.”
“You’re wrong.” As clever as she was, she was also as naïve as every other young lady of her limited experience, and Wrexley knew it well. “Don’t think for a moment because Lord Wrexley encouraged you to race he’ll hesitate to gossip to the ton about it.”
She shrugged off the warning. “I don’t believe he would, but even if he did, what’s he to tell them? That I took off my slippers, and tore my hems? It seems a paltry thing to gossip about.”
“Slippers, yes, but what if he gossiped about how you ran to him?” Finn’s frown deepened to a scowl as he thought of the way she’d leapt into Wrexley’s arms.
“He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Yes, he would, Miss Somerset. If he thought he could gain something by it, he’d do it without a second thought. He intentionally led you into an impropriety today because he believes he has something to gain from it. He has designs on you, and he wants you vulnerable.”
“Designs on me?” She let out a short laugh. “That sounds quite ominous. I know you and Lord Wrexley don’t care much for each other, Lord Huntington, but he’s not the rake you make him out to be, any more than you’re the perfect gentleman you pretend to be.”
Finn’s breath left his lungs in a painful rush. It was true, and yet her words wounded him far more than he would have thought possible. “You’re referring to the wager?”
“Yes. It was a dishonorable thing to do. I hope you’re not going to try and persuade me otherwise.”
“No. It was despicable, and I regret it extremely.” He paused, then said, “Do you suppose Lord Wrexley regrets it, as well?”
She stared at him, her eyes going wide as his meaning sank in. “Lord Wrexley? He—”
“He was there that night. He wagered on you, but he lost you to me. He tried to persuade me to wager for you a second time, but I declined him. If the wager is sufficient reason for you to jilt me, then it’s sufficient reason for you to discourage Lord Wrexley.”
“I—the wager wasn’t the only reason I jilted you.”
She was fighting to hold onto her composure, but Finn could see he’d shaken her, and he ran a rough hand through his hair. If he had even a drop of Wrexley’s charm he’d know how to speak softly to her, to persuade her, but he’d never known how to shatter the hard, impenetrable shell that separated him from other people, and he didn’t know now. He only knew it couldn’t be done in one conversation.
Perhaps not even in one lifetime.
But he tried. He drew in a deep breath and spoke as gently as he could. “When I left to walk in the garden, you and Lord Wrexley were playing bowls. How did you end up running races with him?”
“He asked what my sisters and I used to play when we were children. When I told him we used to run races, he suggested we do that.”
So clever of Wrexley, to discover what she wanted most, and then cajole her into taking it, regardless of the consequences.
“We used to run races at home, in Surrey,” she added, a dreamy smile drifting across her lips. “My father, my sisters—even my mother, on occasion. We never thought about whether or not it was proper, only if it was good fun. It always was.”
A strange, tight sensation gripped Finn’s chest as he watched the smile flirting at the corners of her lips. There was so much joy in that smile it made his heart quicken until he felt dizzy with it.
What must it have been like, to run races with your family? To look back on your memories with joy? To recall moments of perfect happiness when you closed your eyes, instead of a lonely childhood, where one day unfolded after another, all of them the same, except each one was longer and emptier than the last?
What would it feel like, if she smiled like that for me?
She never had, because he would have noticed it. He would have noticed her.
Finn swallowed as his gaze moved over her face. Her cheeks were still pink from the exercise, and the fair hair escaping her pins fell in a long, heavy cascade of golden waves around her face and shoulders. Was it as soft as it looked? If he reached out and captured a lock of it, would it feel like strands of heavy silk between his fingers? If he brushed his fingertip against the corner of her mouth, would that dreamy smile disappear, or would it deepen? Could he catch it in his hand, and make it his?
“Keep still, Miss Somerset.”
Her lips parted on a tiny gasp when he reached for her, the sound so quiet he felt it more than heard it, but she didn’t jerk away from him, and his fingers closed around a hairpin still tangled in one of her curls. He slid it loose gently, and then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he lingered, coaxing the silky strands of her hair to fall between his fingers.
He’d touched her before—her elbow, her arm, her gloved hand—but he’d never touched her like this. He waited for her to push him away, for her harsh laugh, and quick dismissal.
It never came. She only swallowed, then said, “You really never ran a race before? Not even when you were a child?”
His gaze darted to her slender throat, then back to her face, and a forlorn laugh tore from his throat before he could st
op it. “I was never a child.”
She gazed back at him without speaking, but her eyes went so soft for a single moment he wanted to say more—to tell her everything about himself—but then he noticed the sympathy in those blue depths, and the moment was gone.
I’m the Marquess of Huntington now. I don’t need anyone’s pity.
He released the lock of her hair and let it fall back to her shoulder. “Lord Wrexley, Miss Somerset. You need to be on your guard against him.”
As soon as he spoke, her face closed. Her eyes snapped back into focus, her expression went from dreamy to wary, and everything inside Finn went colder, as if a dark cloud had obliterated the sun.
She shook her head. “He’s my dear friend’s cousin, Lord Huntington, and he’s never been anything but kind and respectful toward me.”
“Respectful? It was Lord Wrexley who let Lady Beaumont into Lady Fairchild’s garden the day of the scavenger hunt. I think he hoped you’d discover her there, and it would cause a rift between us. Not quite the actions of an honorable gentleman, are they?”
“Forgive me, Lord Huntington, if I choose to treat anything you say about Lord Wrexley with skepticism. When you found me in the garden that day, after you left Lady Beaumont, Lord Wrexley was—”
Finn tensed. That tear in her gown…
“Did he touch you?” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell me the truth at once.”
Her eyes widened, and in some distant part of his brain, under the sudden roar in his ears, he knew he must be alarming her. He managed to get a deep breath into his lungs, then another, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. “How long were you alone with him?”
“I told you already, it wasn’t above five minutes. You keep accusing him of wrongdoing, and he’s perfectly innocent of it.”
A hard laugh tore from Finn’s chest. “Wrexley is many things, but he isn’t innocent. If I hadn’t happened to come upon you in the garden that day, there’s no telling what he might have done.”
“Indeed? Maybe he would have kissed me.”
The thought of a kiss between her and Wrexley made Finn rigid with fury. “He would have done whatever he could get away with.”
“And he could get away with a good deal—at least, that was your opinion last week, when you implied I’d engaged in improprieties with him.”
Finn didn’t realize he’d moved closer to her until his face was mere inches from hers. He stared down at her, his chest heaving with each harsh, furious breath. “I misspoke. I never meant to suggest any such thing, but I mean what I say about Lord Wrexley. He isn’t a man you can trust, and it’s clear he’s pursuing you. Stay away from him.”
Her eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. “It sounds as if you’re giving me an order, my lord.”
Finn didn’t blink. “I am.”
Derrick would have my head if he could hear this conversation.
“You have no right to tell me who I may and may not see. I’ll make up my own mind about Lord Wrexley.”
“By the time you do, it’ll be too late.”
An angry flush rose to her cheeks. “You do him an injustice.”
Finn’s temper flared in response, because he knew she was angry on Wrexley’s behalf, not her own. “I’m trying to help you—”
“I don’t want your help. We’re no longer betrothed, and never shall be again, so you may consider your obligations toward me to be satisfied, Lord Huntington. I thank you for your concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“No, I won’t excuse you. Not on any count. You haven’t any choice but to accept my offer. Your future, your grandmother’s wishes—”
“Accept a man who will demand utter propriety of his wife, even as he indulges in every kind of debauchery himself? I know a proper marchioness would overlook such a thing, but I can’t.”
“You’d rather have a man who doesn’t care if you ruin yourself, as long as he gets his greedy hands on your fortune?”
Her face drained of color, but she shook him off and turned away without another word. Finn went after her, determined to make her listen, but when they came around the side of house, he saw Lady Tallant and Lord Derrick standing on the terrace.
“There you are, Miss Somerset.” Lady Tallant took in Miss Somerset’s disheveled appearance with a raised eyebrow, then turned a curious look on Finn. “And Lord Huntington. Good afternoon.”
“Lady Tallant.” Finn bowed.
“Come along, Miss Somerset. Lady Hadley was asking for you.”
Miss Somerset didn’t look at him again, but disappeared through the terrace doors behind Lady Tallant.
Lord Derrick hung back. “You don’t look pleased, Huntington.”
“I found Miss Somerset alone with Wrexley on the green just now. They were running races, and she was—”
“Let me guess. Running straight into Wrexley’s arms?”
“Among other things. He wants her, Derrick.”
“Yes, I’m afraid there’s no question of that, but it won’t matter what Wrexley wants if she agrees to have you back.”
“She didn’t agree. She’s refused me a second time.” Finn dragged a hand through his hair, then let it drop to his side. “Perhaps you were right about that wager, Derrick. Perhaps it was cursed.”
“Don’t say Lord Wrexley told her about the wager?”
“Oh, no. It’s a great deal worse than that. That day, in Lady Fairchild’s garden? She overheard me arguing with Lady Beaumont.”
Derrick’s face fell. “Bloody hell. How bad is it?”
“It was Lady Beaumont, Derrick. On her best day she’s a poisonous viper. I’m sure you can imagine how bad it was.”
“Christ, Huntington. This changes everything. She’ll never accept you now.”
“She will.” Finn’s voice was hard. “I can’t just let him have her, Derrick.”
“You may not have a choice. You can’t control everything, no matter how much you might wish to.”
Finn let out a harsh laugh. “So you suggest I let Lord Wrexley control it, instead?”
“I know you feel responsible for Miss Somerset, but—”
“I am responsible for her, even more so than I first realized. Don’t you see? Given what she overheard in the garden that day, she had no other choice than to jilt me, but that won’t stop the ton from destroying her. Even if she manages to slip through Wrexley’s grasp, her future and her sisters’ prospects are all laid to waste. She has to marry me, or she’s ruined.”
Derrick didn’t argue, but his breath left his lungs in a weary sigh. “She has to accept you first, Huntington, and under the circumstances, I don’t see what you can do to persuade her.”
“I’ll do whatever I must. Wrexley’s immoral, reckless—a man without principles or boundaries. He’s out of control, Derrick.”
Lord Derrick was quiet for a moment, then his gaze met Finn’s. “Who do you suppose is more dangerous, Huntington? A man so out of control he risks everything, or one who’s so tightly controlled, he risks nothing?”
Finn didn’t answer, and after a moment Lord Derrick sighed, and followed the ladies into the house.
“The first man is a danger to others. The second is a danger only to himself,” Finn muttered at last, but he may as well not have bothered.
There was no one there to hear him.
Chapter Ten
Iris went up to her bedchamber, threw herself down on her bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling without seeing it.
Not once, during their brief betrothal and the long weeks of their courtship, had Lord Huntington ever looked at her like he had this afternoon. He’d never spoken to her in that soft, pleading voice, and he’d certainly never stroked a lock of her hair between his long fingers.
No, he’d waited until she’d jilted him for that.
Iris kicked her legs into the bed beneath her, giving in to the fit of temper squeezing her in its grip. He hadn’t looked at all like the cold, grand Marquess of Huntington when he’d clutched her shoulders and begged her to listen to him, had he? Looking into his burning eyes, she’d felt as if they were at a masque ball, and he’d torn off his masque to reveal he wasn’t at all the person she’d thought he was.
If he’d shown her even a hint of such passion before, they might still be betrothed, and she wouldn’t be in this mess.
But in it she was. She’d jilted a marquess, lied to her grandmother, compromised her sisters, and now here was Lord Huntington, claiming no lady but her would do for his marchioness. He was determined to drive a wedge between her and her one chance at putting things back to rights.
Lord Wrexley.
She gave in to the urge to behave like a child having a tantrum and beat her legs against the bed again. He hadn’t spared her any of his attention when they were betrothed, so how was it he couldn’t bear the idea of living without her now?
How had he put it when he barged into her bedchamber yesterday afternoon?
I reject your dismissal.
Gentlemen weren’t even permitted to reject a rejection, were they? It was against the rules. It wasn’t done, for pity’s sake. And why, in the name of all that was just, did he have to look so absurdly handsome when he was in a temper—
“Miss Somerset?” A soft knock sounded on the door. “It’s Lady Tallant.”
Iris jerked upright on the bed. Lady Tallant? What could she want?
Another faint knock. “May I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” Iris rushed to open the door. “Lady Tallant, this is a surprise.”
“Yes, it’s a day for surprises, isn’t it?”
She strolled into Iris’s bedchamber, closed the door with a firm click behind her, and regarded Iris in silence for a long moment.
