A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances

by Maggie Dallen

  What he wouldn’t have given for a girl like Marigold back then. An ally who would have spoken the truth and kept him on his toes with her random outbursts.

  He eyed Marigold with open curiosity. “If you had realized who I was, what would you have done differently?”

  She pursed her lips, her gaze finally lifting to meet his as she gave the question serious thought. After a moment, she sighed sadly. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

  He couldn’t stop the low chuckle if he’d tried.

  Though to be fair, he did not try. Between the horrors of war, his blasted injury, the news of his father, and his impending homecoming, it felt like forever since he’d been so lighthearted or amused. But this girl managed to make him laugh. She made him forget his troubles.

  And that was something to treasure.

  “Why does that sadden you?” he asked.

  She gave a small shrug, and she was so caught up in thinking about her answer that she once again forgot to be nervous. The result was a particularly lovely dance partner who floated in his arms like an angel.

  “I merely meant that I would have been just as awkward, I’m afraid. Knowing you were a marquess would have done nothing for my social skills. It is sad but true.”

  He smiled down at her, ignoring his mother’s furious scowl as they passed her on the sidelines. “I rather like your social skills.” Without thinking, he added, “I rather like you.”

  The pink in her cheeks turned to a brilliant red. “You are teasing again,” she said.

  “I assure you. I am not.”

  Her wary gaze flickered up to meet his and whatever she saw there it made her eyes widen, and her lips curve up at the corners, and her pupils dilate, and—all at once he heard his sister’s voice in his head.

  Just be careful with Miss Clearwater...

  Panic hit him like a punch in the gut, and he stiffened away from her, pulling back as far as his arms would allow.

  She was lovely, it was true. And he liked her, of that there was no doubt. But he was not ready to marry. And to let her think that this was something more than what it was...

  Well, he saw clearly what his sister meant now.

  Marigold was all sincerity and genuine kindness. Something about the dreamy look in her eyes and the way she spoke said she was an innocent. He eyed her pretty blush in alarm. No doubt she was a romantic as well.

  One thing was certain—she was not a flirt or a worldly woman of the world. It would be cruel to string her along and make her believe there was something here between them when there wasn’t.

  There couldn’t be.

  He hurried to change the subject and glanced around as though a new, utterly unromantic topic might be floating about in the far corners of the room. He did not spot a safe topic, but he did find his mother. Her eyes were narrowed on him and he could practically hear her nagging him to quit dancing with the wallflower and seek out one of the young ladies she’d hand chosen to be his bride.

  He flashed her a smile that made her lips purse.

  But then his gaze shifted to the two ladies still standing beside his mother. Marigold’s friends.

  He latched onto the mundane topic with a vengeance. “I hear felicitations are in order.”

  Her brows arched in surprise. “Are they?”

  He nodded toward the blonde and the redhead whose names he’d already forgotten. “My mother mentioned that your friends have recently formed attachments.”

  Her smile was weak but sweet. “Oh yes. I am very happy for them.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, trying not to laugh. “You certainly sound ecstatic.”

  Her eyes widened in a surprise and a short laugh escaped before she cut it off by clamping her lips shut. “I am happy for them. Truly.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment. A moment during which he saw her inner battle. Just when he thought she might never speak again, she let out a rush of air and a slew of words along with it. “It is just that I will be all alone, you see. I wish them nothing but the best, but it is difficult not to fear for my future. That sounds very selfish, doesn’t it?” She moaned softly, her gloved hands clenching the material of his coat in a grasp he assumed was unconscious. “I know it sounds horrible. But I just don’t want to be alone forever, that’s all.”

  He stared down at her in horror. “Alone forever? My goodness, Miss Clearwater, that does sound dreadful.” He leaned down slightly with a small smile. “It also sounds just a bit melodramatic.”

  Her cheeks turned pink again, but she gave him an adorably rueful smile. “You’re right, of course. I’m afraid all the novels I read have had that effect on me.”

  He laughed softly. “I quite understand. But I must disagree with you about you being forever alone. I might not know your circumstances, but a beautiful young lady like you must have her pick of admirers.”

  There it was again. A flash of something soft and sweet and hopeful and...romantic.

  Curse it.

  “I, for one, would be elated to catch the eye of a young lady such as yourself if I were in the market for a wife.” If he said that last bit a little too loudly, it could not be helped.

  He had to make his intentions clear—or rather, his lack of intention. It was only fair.

  Did that beautiful glow in her eyes dim ever so slightly?

  He thought perhaps yes. Or maybe he was imagining it. He frowned at the thought.

  “So you are not...” She bit her lip. “That is... You do not wish to marry?” She cringed. “I am so sorry, that is none of my concern, is it?”

  He gave a snort of a laugh that was equally improper. “Please, Miss Clearwater. You and I have already broken convention and shared a rather intimate moment in a shed earlier today. I think we can do away with propriety.”

  She peeked up at him and then she burst out in a laugh that made his chest ache for no reason he could ever define. “I suppose you are right.” Her smile widened. “And in that case, you must call me Marigold.”

  He grinned. “Only if you call me Max.”

  The music was winding down and he found himself loath to let her go.

  The way she was smiling at him now—it was nothing like the small shy smiles she’d cast his way up until now. Her eyes met his and she looked...confident.

  Happy.

  Happy to be with him.

  He shook off the thought. “And to answer your question, no. I am in no rush to marry.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Why not? Surely your family must be eager to see you settled and with an heir.”

  “That is an understatement,” he said with a laugh. “And I have every intention of seeing through my duties in the future. It is just...” He took a deep breath as he tried to find the words. “Do you ever get the feeling that the world is spinning too quickly around you? That time is spinning by and you have been...” He drew in a deep breath and let it out with a sharp exhale. “Upended.”

  Her smile was so sweet and understanding he did not doubt that she was telling the truth when she said, “All the time.”

  The music came to a stop and so did he. It took a full moment for him to release her. He had the notion that their conversation had only just begun. He was just starting to catch a glimpse of the real Marigold and he wished to see more.

  To see all of her.

  She gave him a questioning look as she nodded toward her friends and...his mother. Still there. Still waiting. Ready to pounce with more introductions and unwanted dances.

  He glanced back down at his current partner and caught her sigh of resignation as she too looked over at her friends. By the wall. Where she would likely spend the rest of her evening as he did his duty and made the rounds, making nice with the eligible young ladies his mother had chosen for him.

  And just like that, inspiration struck.

  She blinked when she glanced up and saw his grin. “Why...er...why are you looking at me like that?”

  He h
eld out an arm to escort her, but her brow furrowed with trepidation as she linked her arm through his.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “I shall help you gain the attention of every eligible gentleman at this house party.”

  Her eyes widened and he noticed how warm and inviting they looked in this light.

  Surely all the other men would notice too...once he dragged her out of the shadows and into the light.

  “How...?” she started. Then she frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I like you,” he said. “And I wish to see you happy.”

  Her brows drew together. “You do?”

  “How—”

  “You leave that up to me,” he said.

  They were drawing close to his mother and her friends and they both slowed their steps as if by some unspoken agreement. She stopped to turn and face him. “I do not see how you could help me.”

  They were standing still in the center of the room and it was then that he realized—she didn’t know. She hadn’t looked away from him once while they were dancing. He leaned down now, loving the way her gaze never wavered from him. “Tell me, Marigold. What would you do if every eye in this room was fixed on you and you were the center of attention?”

  Her lips parted as she thought about the prospect. “I suppose I would swoon.”

  He just barely held back a laugh. “In that case, I would recommend you do not look around you.”

  As he was saying it, she did the exact opposite, her gaze sweeping the room before snapping back to him with a gasp. “Everyone is looking,” she hissed.

  He nodded with a smug smile. “Of course they are, Marigold. I am the prodigal son, the new marquess, the catch of the season—or so my mother tells me—and I chose you for my first dance.”

  She blinked rapidly, her gaze unseeing as he steered them back to her friends. By the pallor in her cheeks he knew she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she might swoon.

  “So you see,” he continued in a low voice so no one could overhear. “If I continue seeking you out, making sure everyone sees your worth and your beauty....”

  He was relieved to see her pallor replaced by color, albeit a fierce shade of crimson at his compliments.

  “But why would you do that?” she asked, panic in her eyes as she gazed up at him. “Why would you do such a thing for me? You barely know me.”

  He knew enough. He squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. “I assure you, this would benefit me as well. I told you, I am not ready to marry. But my mother and the rest of the ton have...ideas.”

  Her eyes widened in understanding. “I see. You would not actually court me, but others would see your interest and assume I was of some...value.”

  He tilted his chin. She was coming to understand. He could help her, and she could aid his cause of remaining a bachelor until he was ready for that next step. Or at the very least, get him through this house party unattached.

  He’d likely have to find another way around his mother’s next match making attempts.

  “What do you say, Marigold? Are you willing?”

  Her breathing was shaky, but she gave him a sharp nod. “I am if you are.”

  Chapter Six

  Marigold drew in a deep breath. What had she just agreed to?

  The details still made her mind spin. She was going to allow Max to regularly seek her out so that other suitors might see her worth and attempt to court her.

  It was rather duplicitous and duplicity was not at all her strong suit.

  She was normally as forthright as she was honest and the idea made her a bit queasy.

  But Max was correct. The eyes of the room were upon them. Her head spun again as she looked about and tightened her grip on Max’s arm, trying to slow the rapid beat of her heart.

  “Don’t look now, but I believe our plan is already working.”

  She did look, and her feet caught upon one another as she saw not one, or two, but three men standing next to Daisy and Lily where they waited for her.

  Two of them she was acquainted with.

  Lord Pierce Canterbaum and Lord Roger Wright stood on either side of Daisy and Lily. Lord Canterbaum as tall and thin as Lord Wright was short and... She cleared her throat.

  Just to Lord Canterbaum’s left was a man with whom she was not acquainted. Well to be fair, she wasn’t actually acquainted with any of these men. But she’d observed the other two from her place at the wall.

  But the third man was completely unknown to her. Sandy blond hair and grey blue eyes met hers evenly as he gave her a small smile. It was a nice smile as far as smiles went. His teeth were straight and his eyes kind. He was neither short nor excessively tall. He was thoroughly...average.

  Which didn’t sound very exciting but suited her just fine.

  Or did it?

  A quick glance to her right made her breath catch again. Max was neither fine, nor average but spectacularly...amazing.

  He made her heart race and her breath catch and her head spin. And that was when he wasn’t pitching fantastic plans to help her make a match.

  Yet he was decidedly uninterested in her.

  She ought to be used to the disappointment by now.

  And truly, she was thankful for his help.

  But if landing in a man’s lap and planning subterfuge didn’t earn her a spot in his heart, then nothing would. She ignored the niggle of disappointment that still twisted in her stomach.

  She should be thankful for his help and glad to have some options. Which was why she ought to focus on one of the three men who’d presented himself as a possible option.

  “Do you know the man on the left?” she whispered as they approached.

  He stiffened under her hand, his arm turning into a tight band. Had something upset him? “As a matter of fact, I do.” He cleared his throat, slowing his step. “He served under my command a year ago, Major Alexander Mayfield.”

  She turned to look at Max, surprise making her lips part. “Really?”

  Max gave a terse nod. “He’s a good soldier and a good friend.”

  She looked back at the major. Perhaps he was waiting for Max and not her. But as he looked back, Major Mayfield’s gaze met hers again. His eyes fixed upon her as a small smile once again parted his lips.

  Oh dear.

  He was, in fact, interested in her.

  Her breath caught. Would he ask her a great many questions? Her heart pounded in her ears as she glanced about again to see so many eyes still on her.

  It wasn’t that the major filled her with breathless excitement. It was more like anxious terror. He’d want to get to know her and she’d have to make all that mundane small talk that other’s excelled at while she usually failed. With an entire crowd watching. That part made her ears pulse with rushing blood.

  Daisy gave her a hopeful smile as Lily quirked a brow. The crowd further slowed their arrival at her friends’ side and Marigold attempted to decide if she was grateful to still have her hand tucked in Max’s arm or if she’d rather disappear with her two compatriots.

  She’d prefer to have this next interaction with the three men over and done and be safely tucked behind the nearest fern.

  Her feet stuttered again.

  “Marigold,” Max whispered close to her ear, causing the strangest tingle along her skin. “Are you quite all right? You seem a bit...”

  She gave her head a tiny shake. She could feel the blood draining from her face. “I’ve only just realized the flaw in your plan.”

  He stopped as several people crossed in front of their path, halting their progress. “What is that?”

  “I don’t actually wish to be courted. It’s a good idea in theory but...” She tightened her hand once again.

  The crowd passed but he didn’t start walking again. Instead, he stared at her, his mouth set in a frown. “You can’t mean that.”

  She blinked, her head beginning to spin. From her right, she saw her mother approaching. Mrs. Clearwater’s face was alig
ht with a bright smile as she practically floated toward her daughter.

  Marigold gave an audible groan. Her mother was liable to say all sorts of embarrassing and telling tidbits that would set Marigold’s face on fire with embarrassment.

  Her mother always meant well but if Marigold made a habit of uttering the worst sort of nonsense, her mother had the same disease, tenfold.

  From ten feet away, and over the din of the crowd, she heard her mother loudly exclaim. “My daughter dancing with the marquess. Our day has finally arrived.”

  Heat spiraled up her neck and flamed her cheeks.

  Oh no.

  What telling and mortifying thing would her mother say in front of Max? The other men?

  Her head spun and her knees turned to jelly. Max would abandon their plan. The other men would run, or at least walk quickly away.

  She supposed that meant she could return to her quiet corner but not before her mother completely mortified her.

  Distantly, though Marigold was certain it was a question of her ears and not actually the volume of her mother’s voice, she heard her mother say, “I am certain offers will be rolling in by tomorrow. It’s a garden party for the wallflowers.”

  Twenty people must have turned to look, first at Mrs. Clearwater and then at Marigold. If envy had made Marigold uncomfortable, pity absolutely made her sway. And suddenly black danced before her eyes.

  She had the distinct sensation of falling. And then there was nothing.

  Slowly, Marigold’s eyes blinked open.

  Where was she?

  What had happened?

  Max’s face was just above hers, his face scrunched in concern. “Marigold?”

  Her lips spread into a lazy grin. Wherever she was, it was quite pleasant.

  “My lord, you do know that that is not her name. Silly nickname, that is.”

  Mother. Marigold nearly groaned aloud as she turned her face away.

  “I am aware of your daughter’s name, Mrs. Clearwater.” Max sat up straighter.