He smiled back. Unfortunately his teeth fell out when he did so. And tumbled into the bodice of her gown.
She slapped his hand back when he reached in with two fingers to retrieve them.
“Really, Mr. Morely. That’s the second time tonight. You ought to keep better track of those things.”
She pulled them out and handed them to him. Practice had made her rather deft at the motion. Dear God, how had her life come to this?
“I believe this next dance is mine,” a deep masculine voice said from behind.
She turned, ready to pledge undying devotion to whomever should rescue her from Morely and his slippery teeth. It was Lord Archer, bowing elegantly and smiling his most winning smile. His teeth—thankfully—stayed where they were supposed to be.
“Yes, thank you, Lord Archer,” she said. “Good evening, Mr. Morely. Thank you for such, er, noteworthy conversation.”
Morely was still reapplying his teeth when Archer swept her away to take their place in line for the next dance. It was a rousing country dance, and Pru was happy to lose herself in it. The active steps helped reawaken her sleepy brain, and she was glad for a partner who didn’t bumble or stumble along. It made it so much easier for her to remember the steps for herself. Indeed, Lord Archer seemed the likeliest gentleman so far. She supposed she ought to give him a fair chance. If he found her interesting, she’d try to be equally interested in return.
When the dance ended, he glanced around the room, then pulled her off to one side. Woodleigh was nowhere to be seen, and Pru was only partially surprised when Archer leaned in close and whispered into her ear.
“Have you need of more lemonade?” he asked.
“Thank you, no. It took forever for you to supply the last glass.”
He laughed at her teasing. “Only because I could not find you. I should have known Woodleigh’s brother would appear and take you off for himself.”
“He asked for a dance and I would have been rude to refuse.”
“It seemed Woodleigh would have liked you to refuse.”
She’d noticed that, too. Clearly he’d not wanted her wasting time with his brother when she should have been luring some more eligible gentlemen. But his brother had been friendly and an excellent dancer, so she’d not regretted her choice. Besides, what could it hurt to make another friend here in Town? Once she was stuck here as some old goat’s wife, she would welcome a friend or two.
“Lord Woodleigh takes his role as my host quite seriously,” she said. “I suppose now that he’s about to be married, he’s decided to become completely respectable.”
“Yes, and damn shame, I say,” Archer grumbled, shaking his head. “What of you, Miss Canton? Are you as determined to be so very respectable?”
“Why, of course! Have I ever been anything but?”
He smiled at her. “You have that air about you, as if you know there is more that life offers and are used to being free to go find it. Are you really quite sure the docile life of a gentlewoman is what you truly want?”
“What a silly thing to ask, sir. I was born a gentlewoman; it’s the life I have known.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’re different, Miss Canton. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I mean no disrespect! It just seems there is more about you than fussing with frippery and waving a fan.”
“You are unfair to my sex, Lord Archer. I’m sure plenty of young women have substance beneath their frippery and fans if you give them half a chance to display it.”
“I wish I’d experiences to confirm that, Miss Canton. Indeed, would you like to carry this discourse out to the garden where we may continue in the fresh air? Surely you are winded after the dance.”
The garden. Of course it would be slightly inappropriate to go off wandering the garden with a gentleman she barely knew, but then again…he did have a serious tone about him. Perhaps he did wish to discuss things of more merit than the weather or the sad state of Mrs. Fitzmonger’s lemonade.
“Yes, I think I should enjoy some fresh air,” she replied.
He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind but quickly led her from the room. It became evident immediately that he hadn’t brought her out there to discuss the roses, as he led her straight past the fragrant blooms and on toward a darker, less trafficked area. Her senses shifted into high alert, and she hoped she would not have to employ some of the more physical tactics she’d learned over the years to defend herself against unwarranted attentions. It would be a shame for such a prominent gentleman to be seen hobbling away from a public event, cradling his most favored possessions.
“So tell me, Miss Canton,” he began. “Have you enjoyed your time here in London?”
“I have, sir. Thank you.”
“And have you met anyone, er, particular?”
“Particular? I’ve met many particular people. The Town is quite full of them, I’ve found.”
“Ah, always so coy, Miss Canton. But I believe you get my meaning. Have you met any gentleman in particular? Anyone who has captured your fancy?”
So he did wish to discuss something more than the weather. Well, she supposed this was what her efforts were about, after all. If Lord Archer wanted to talk of serious things, then she would discuss them. Wherever it might lead.
“I…I suppose you’re asking if I’ve fallen in love with anyone.”
“Yes. Thank you for supplying the phrase. That is every bit what I’m asking, Miss Canton.”
She took a deep breath. “Then the answer is no, sir. My heart is unattached.”
“And I’m glad to hear it. Surprised, I suppose, given the quantity of eligible beaux you’ve had dangling after you these two weeks, but I’m happy to hear it.”
“Then I’m happy to have made you happy.”
“Are you? Then, would it be too much to hope you might make me happier still?”
Now she found she could not take a breath, not even a shallow one. Her chest seemed to freeze, and her heart had stopped beating. “Happier, sir?”
“You know what I’m about, Miss Canton. I’ve made myself plain. My intentions toward you have never been less than honorable. Are you amenable to the notion of considering me?”
“Considering you?”
“For marriage, of course. I know that we’ve not known each other long, and you’ve admitted your heart is not engaged in the matter, but that’s exactly my point.”
“It is? I don’t quite follow that logic, sir.”
“It’s simple. I need to get married, and I presume you are in the same position, else why would you have suddenly appeared here in London when you could so easily have remained happy at home? Well, as you say you’ve not fallen in love with another, and I assure you I have no intention of falling in love with any of these blue-blooded toddlers infesting the marriage mart, then it seems a perfect solution. I marry you and you marry me. We get on fairly well, don’t we?”
“Er, yes…I enjoy your company, sir, but…”
“But? I’m not suitable for marriage?”
“Heavens, on the contrary! You have a title, a cheerful disposition, you’re attentive to my wishes, and I’m sure you’ve been told you’re attractive. What more could any young lady want?”
“Exactly. So…what say you, Miss Canton? Or do you need additional encouragement?”
He added the last part with a sly smile, sidling closer to her and bringing his hands to her waist. Good gracious, but he was going to kiss her, wasn’t he? She believed he was. And how romantic the setting for something like that, too.
They were alone in a garden, music played in the distance, the air smelled of roses and dewdrops, and this fine gentleman had just proposed marriage. She should fall into his arms with a breathy sigh just now, shouldn’t she? But she didn’t quite feel like sighing.
She clenched up her muscles and forced herself not to run away as his arms tightened around her, pulling her to him. Her eyes pinched shut and she waited. She felt his hands shifting, the heat f
rom his body drawing closer…closer…covering her. At last his lips contacted hers. She made her very best effort to enjoy it.
It was no use, though. Kissing Lord Archer was like nuzzling her favorite mare. It was warm and mildly pleasant, but it did nothing to stir deeper longings inside. She was quite pleased when it ended, in fact.
What was wrong with her? This was everything she should want, wasn’t it? He was a handsome man whose company she enjoyed, for heaven’s sake. Why on earth could she not enjoy his kisses? As kisses went, this one had not been so bad. He was a competent kisser, as best she could tell. Why was it not enough to ignite something inside her, to make her feel as she’d felt when…when Lord Woodleigh had kissed her?
Oh. Oh no. Her eyes blinked open and suddenly she understood.
“Well,” Lord Archer said as he backed slowly away from her, “that was quite awful.”
“I know. I’m so sorry!”
“This doesn’t bode well for our future.”
“No, I’m sorry, it does not. It appears that I was not entirely honest with you, sir.”
“About what?”
She cringed, wishing she could say anything but what she knew she had to confess. “My heart is slightly more engaged than I first thought, I’m afraid.”
His eyebrows went up. “You don’t say? So there is a particular gentleman, after all?”
Now she could not face him and stared at the ground. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me, my dear miss. It seems as if he’s the one who ought to be sorry, leaving you alone here with me when he ought to be the one making overtures for your hand.”
“He…he’s engaged to another,” she said, hoping Archer wouldn’t guess from that who the unlucky gentleman was. She was mortified already; she didn’t need Archer running to his friend and tattling on her.
“Then he’s a fool as well as a sorry nickninny. He ought to have his head examined, I’d say…whoever he is.”
Thankfully he didn’t ask for a name.
“No, it isn’t his fault,” she said quickly. “Believe me, he’s done nothing to encourage my feeling. I’m sure I’ll recover at some point.”
“Are you? Forgive me for sounding smug, Miss Canton, but for a lady to find herself quite immune to my kisses…well, you must be quite far gone over this looby. Are you sure there’s no hope for you where he is concerned?”
“No, the matter is final. But don’t worry for me, sir. Life will go on. If you won’t tell anyone about this, I swear I won’t either.”
He thought for a moment, and for a heartbeat or two she feared he would question her more, or even kiss her again. But he did not and she was relieved.
“I’ll tell you what, Miss Canton. You have until the end of the Season. If you have not snagged your true love by then, my offer still stands. As I said, I believe it would be a suitable arrangement for both of us. What do you say?”
What would she say? The man made a good point. She did like his company, and marrying him would rescue her father and their beloved stable. Lord Archer was perfectly positioned to help her. All it would take was a simple yes from her lips.
And then a life spent with a man she did not love, knowing he did not love her back. She supposed that notion wouldn’t have been so very tragic if she didn’t already know in her heart what it was like to look at a man and feel her heart leap out of her chest and land splat at his feet. She could dream of endless pleasant nights alone with Lord Archer if she hadn’t already spent five minutes alone in the arms of Lord Woodleigh. She could hope for domestic harmony with one if she hadn’t endured blissful squabbles and spats with the other. Oh, but she was a mess.
And Lord Archer was still waiting. Finally she nodded.
“Very well. Since we both know where everything stands, and as you say, we do get along famously and this will spare us from having to marry someone worse, I’ll agree. We’ll discuss this at the end of the Season and see if it’s still what we want.”
“Excellent. Although, I admit that I despair for my success in the matter. Something tells me your particular gentleman may come to his senses yet.”
She smiled for him. “That’s kind of you to say, sir. But it’s no use. I don’t lie to myself. We’ll be revisiting this again, I’m quite sure.”
“Then I’m looking forward to it. And now, perhaps I should go back indoors one way, while you go another. No sense giving people reason to talk.”
“Yes. Very wise. Thank you.”
He kissed her hand as a gesture of friendship and was smiling as he left her there. She supposed she ought to be somewhat insulted that the man should go off practically whistling a tune after her rejection, but she understood. It was no real offense to him as his heart wasn’t in it. Besides, despite what he said, he must know as well as she did that he had no worry. She’d still be single by the end of the Season. If he truly wanted her, he had nothing to fear.
Neither did she, except a long, lonely life full of wondering “what if.”
Woodleigh saw them: Archer and Miss Canton going off alone into the garden. It was his worst nightmare. For the sake of propriety, of course. This could only lead to scandal. He had to interrupt them at all costs.
But he was trapped with Miss Holycroft. Ugh, he’d been forced to ask her to dance again, and now she was off on another tirade about fashion. How much damn fabric was there in the world to provide so much discourse for these women? His blasted head was about to explode from the prattle.
He managed to move them a bit closer to the window. She followed, of course, still rattling on and on and on, weaving in and out of the dance steps. He glanced outside, trailing Miss Canton’s gauzy blue figure as she moved amongst the roses under the moonlight. Damn Archer leered over her like a cat ready to pounce. Woodleigh had to lean sideways and twist his body to keep track of them, but he could still barely make out their forms, quite alone in the darkness out there.
And then they weren’t two forms, but one! Hellfire and dry bob the devil. Archer was pressing himself on Miss Canton! Woodleigh could stand it no more. He bowed to Miss Holycroft and excused himself bluntly. He’d never abandoned a lady on the dance floor in his life, but this was an emergency.
He knew from personal experience what a quick starter Miss Canton was. Archer would have her off her feet and ruining herself in minutes! There was no time to spare, not even if it meant disgracing himself in society. He had to get to the garden.
He very nearly made it there, too, but Miss Holycroft came dashing up behind him in the doorway. He had no choice but to face her, to stand there and hope he was blocking her view. It would not do at all for this rattle-pate-in-training to see them out there. She’d have Miss Canton’s name bandied about like a shuttlecock in every drawing room and meeting place in Town.
“Woodleigh, really! You left me and everyone noticed! What on earth has come over you?”
“Er, I wasn’t feeling well. I need to step out for some air.”
“I will go with you.”
“No! That is, I cannot take you away from your dancing, my dear. Please, go back and enjoy yourself.”
“How can I enjoy myself in a dance requiring a partner? Honestly, Woodleigh, sometimes I think you don’t care for me at all.”
He had to actually bite his tongue to keep from giving her the truth that was suddenly so very plain to him. He did not care for her. No, not at all. He quite disliked her, as a matter of fact. She was rude, self-absorbed, unpleasant to be around, and not nearly as pretty as she seemed to think herself. And she didn’t know the first thing about horses. Or kissing. He was certain one attempt would prove that beyond all doubt.
But he was not at all interested in that one attempt. Good God, the mere thought of it nearly turned his stomach. And he expected to marry the girl and have offspring with her? Oh, hell no.
“If you don’t come back and join me in the dance right this very minute, I shall find a new partner.”
He’d alrea
dy lost interest and was trying to look over his shoulder to see just what stage of undress Archer might have Miss Canton in by now.
“What? Oh, by all means. Excellent idea,” he mumbled.
“Well! Some fiancé you’re going to make. Very well, Woodleigh. But it is your loss.”
“Yes, yes. I regret it already. I’ll be weeping tomorrow.”
Clearly she had just enough cleverness to recognize sarcasm. She huffed and stuck up her chin, made a nice, tidy spin, then headed back to the dance floor. Mr. Fish-Finglet was right there waiting for her.
At last Woodleigh was free to move out into the garden. But there was another couple nearby, strolling leisurely. If he ran straight up to his quarry, he’d alert anyone around to the matter. So he hung back, waiting until he could be unseen. It seemed to take forever, but finally the other couple was gone, and he could head around the hedge toward the last place he’d seen Archer and Miss Canton.
He didn’t quite get there, though. Archer suddenly appeared, rounding the hedge and smacking soundly into him. He was conspicuously alone. Damnation! The deed had been done. Woodleigh grabbed his foul friend by the throat.
“Where the hell did you leave her?”
Archer choked and pointed the opposite direction. “She went that way,” he said, or did the best that he could, considering he couldn’t breathe.
Woodleigh released him. “I ought to murder you right here.”
“You ought to not be such a lobcock and go find Miss Canton.”
Yes, he ought to. If she’d been ill used…by God, he needed to get her away from here, keep her safe from prying eyes or rumors that would no doubt flash through the crowd the moment Archer started bragging.
“I swear to you, Archer, tomorrow morning I’ll—”
“Be putting a notice in the paper, I suppose. At least if you’re not completely an ass, you will. Now go, find her, you clod pole.”
He thought about it a moment and decided he could spare just enough time to plant Archer a facer. The damn jackanapes ducked at the last moment, so Woodleigh barely bloodied his lip. He’d rather hoped to kill him.
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