Distraught as Marigold was, a small smile touched her lips. “You’re a wonderful friend.”
Lily returned her smile. “Thank you. So are you.”
“They were saying the most awful things.” Her smile slipped. “That sounded decidedly true.”
Lily shook her head. “That is the thing about mean words. They only hurt when they sound like the truth.”
Marigold shook her head. “I’ve given Abigail a nickname.”
“What?” Lily asked, her brows rising.
“Poison ivy. If we are flowers then she is a toxic weed.”
Lily laughed. “Oh Marigold, it’s perfect.”
Marigold shook her head, her hands covering her heart. “The thing about poison ivy is no matter how much you wish it to be gone, it is still there. A rash on your skin that you cannot deny.”
Lily cocked her head. “All very true. But we must pluck it from the garden and not allow that particular ivy to infect us.
Marigold nibbled on her lip, thinking back to Abigail’s words. “I am afraid I have already been infected with the rash.”
Lily crossed the room and took her hand. “What did she say that chafes, dear?”
“That the marquess would never be interested in me.” Marigold dipped her head, her chin settling down on her chest. “I was a fool to kiss him, wasn’t I?”
“No, of course not. You wanted to kiss him and so you did. It was brave.”
“But he likely does not share my feelings.” She said it as a statement, but her gaze held a question when she looked to her friend.
Lily gave her hand a squeeze. “I am honestly not sure.”
Marigold gave a bit of a nod, her gaze still on the intricate parquet floor. She drew in a steading breath as she lifted her head. “It’s just that being so bold filled me with such confidence. More than I’d ever had before and—”
“Why does that have to change?” Lily leaned down to look her in the eye. “He clearly cares for you or he wouldn’t be helping you. He returned the kiss and showed you how to be your best self. That was a gift. Even if he doesn’t wish to pursue a relationship with you, he’s been a good friend.”
Friend. There was that word again.
Marigold swallowed a lump, giving a nod of affirmation. In many ways, Lily was right. She was lucky to have the marquess in her life even if that meant they would only ever be friends.
He’d been clear. He didn’t wish to marry now, and he’d only danced with her to help her.
They were friends. That was all. The word grew more bitter each time it entered her thoughts.
But she should be happy with what he’d given her.
She was happy.
Mostly.
“Thank you for the reminder. I needed to hear that.” She leaned in and gave Lily a squeeze.
“You’re welcome.” Lily hugged her back.
“Am I interrupting?” A deep voice rumbled from the door.
Marigold’s head whipped about. Max.
Her friend.
Her lips turned down. A fact she’d do well to remember, today and always.
Chapter Thirteen
Something was wrong. He could sense it the moment he walked into the room.
His sweet little Marigold looked too tense, her expression grim.
She looked so completely different from how he’d last seen her, like night and day from the girl who’d kissed him the evening before.
What had happened between then and now?
What could have happened in such a short time? Likely nothing. He shook off the worry clouding his thoughts. The ladies were waiting for him to speak, to explain why he was here, though he’d thought it would be a given.
He’d been looking for Marigold. To confess how he felt and to ask her to…
To what?
Wait for him? Remain a wallflower while he sorted out his life?
Lily’s all-seeing gaze was fixed on him as he stood there, painfully silent as her words from earlier came back to eat at him. Perhaps he wasn’t being fair. She likely did deserve more than a gentleman who was unable to commit.
After another heartbeat of silence, Marigold’s expression softened a bit, and her brows hitched up in question. “Was there something you needed, my lord?”
My lord. When had she ceased referring to him as Max?
Her gaze flickered to Lily and he forced his tension to ease. She was being courteous and he was being...unbearably rude, no doubt.
“Yes, yes, I did wish...” For a moment he faltered. “That is, I wish to speak with you, Marigold.” He cast Lily another glance. “If I may.”
He did not miss the way Lily looked to Marigold, as if to ask whether this was what she wanted. Nor did he miss the hesitation that followed, brief but undeniable, before she nodded her assent.
“I shall be just outside if you need me,” Lily said as she headed toward the door. She gave Marigold a mischievous smile. “I’ll do my best to keep your mother at bay but do try to be quick about it.”
Marigold’s answering smile looked forced as though she were about to face trial and not have an intimate moment alone with the man she’d kissed just last night.
She’d kissed him, he reminded himself with a huff of indignation. Surely that meant something? Whatever had changed in Marigold today, it did not alter the fact that she had pressed her lips to his in the sweetest kiss he could have ever imagined.
He might not have known her long, but he knew her well enough to know she did not just give kisses away to any man.
No. There were feelings here, of that he was certain.
He just did not know if they were strong enough for her to put her own future happiness at risk by waiting. Asking her to would require her to trust him. To care about him.
Possibly to love him.
“Are you all right, my lord?” she asked the moment the door snapped shut behind Lily.
“Am I—? Of course I’m all right.”
He was not entirely all right. The thought of the word ‘love’ was enough to make his cravat feel too tight and his skin to grow hot.
Was that what this was? Surely not. It was affection, that was all. He’d never fallen in love before and he wasn’t about to start now. Love meant marriage, and marriage meant family and...
He thrust a hand through his hair as he turned away from her curious gaze.
He barely knew how to be a brother and a son, how on earth was he expected to be a husband or a father?
“My lord...”
He heard her coming up behind him, placing a hand on his arm. “Max?”
It was the use of his name that did it. It cut through this unpleasant panic and had him turning back to her with an exhale of relief. This was Marigold, after all. She’d never pressure him if he was not ready, and she of all people would understand because she was the one person who seemed to understand him.
The thought had his lips quirking up and she seemed to soften in response.
Yes, this was better. For the first time since he’d entered the room he felt as though things were right with the world again. He was Max and she was Marigold and together they would discuss the situation and come up with a plan.
He reached for her hand. “Marigold, about last night...”
She ducked her head quickly. “Yes.”
“That kiss was...” Lovely. Beautiful. Perfect. “Nice.”
He was glad her face was tilted down so she could not see his cringe. Nice? What an understatement. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Last night, we did not have a chance to talk after...”
She tugged her hand out of his and took a step back. “No, we didn’t.”
He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to loosen his cravat. The silence grew thick and the air seemed stifling despite the open doors to the veranda.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said quickly when the silence had grown too tense.
“Thank me,” he repeated. “For the kiss?” He gave her a ro
guish smile that made her blush. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”
She closed her eyes for a second, her cheeks turning a deep red.
Oh, curse it. Now he’d gone and embarrassed her. “What I meant was, that kiss was—”
“Excellent experience,” she finished, her voice just shy of frantic.
He blinked. “Pardon me?”
He watched the tip of her tongue wet her lips and for a moment he forgot everything but kissing her. That seemed the only sensible and right thing he’d done since leaving his military career behind.
“It was excellent experience for me,” she said, her tone calmer now but her cheeks still alarmingly red.
“This kiss,” he repeated, his eyes wide with surprise and...disappointment. Was that all it had been? A learning experience to prepare for her new suitors?
“Yes, th-the k-kiss.” She stumbled over the word, her gaze fixed on the floor. She seemed to have a keen interest in his shoes, in particular. “The kiss but also the dancing and the special attention you paid to me. You said you would help me to attract the notice of the ton, and you did it.” She finally lifted her gaze and gave him a small smile that did not reach her eyes. “Well done.”
A surge of frustration had him opening his mouth and then shutting it. Yes, he had set out to help her find a suitor but that was before he’d realized that he wished to be her suitor.
But do you? Are you even certain you are ready to offer for her hand?
It was either Lily’s voice or his sister’s, he couldn’t be certain. Some irritatingly nosy female in his life was nagging him and it didn’t help his frustration.
If not...what is the point of this flirtation?
He shushed that voice and moved toward her, disheartened when she backed up a step in response. “Marigold, I know that I told you I wished to see you happily wed to another—”
“Yes, and your kindness was most...kind.” She blinked, a flicker of desperation in her eyes.
She was afraid to hear what he had to say.
Something twisted and sank in his chest.
She knew what he was going to say...and she did not wish to hear it.
Her wide eyes seemed to plead with him to stay quiet.
His jaw clenched. He couldn't do that. “Listen to me, Marigold. I told you last night that I am not ready to find myself a wife.”
“You did say that,” she said, nodding. “You made yourself very clear on the topic.”
His brows drew down. “Yes, well, I might not be ready right now but I was hoping...” He met her wide pleading eyes and stumbled.
I was hoping...you would wait for me.
“Yes?” Her voice had a breathless note to it.
“I am hopeful that one day I will be...ready that is.”
She nodded, her gaze wary and expectant, like she knew the blow was about to come.
Blast it all, was it really such a terrible idea? Him for a husband?
Perhaps it was.
“When I am...ready, that is...” He was making a mess of this and he knew it. He ought to put them both out of this misery and just let her go already. “When I am ready, I will be looking for a very particular type of lady to be my wife.”
I want you. Sweet mercy, how difficult could it be to utter those words?
Very, it turned out.
He opened his mouth and shut it, watching as her cheeks turned brighter before losing all color altogether.
“I understand,” she said.
“What...you do?”
She did. She understood and she did not feel the same. It was written clear as day on her face and only a masochist would force her to say it.
I want you.
Only a cretin would ask her to wait for him.
“I meant what I said earlier,” she said abruptly. “I am very grateful to you.” She took another step back. “Though we have not known each other long, you have proven yourself to be a true friend.”
Friend.
The word rang in the air and it rankled.
No, it gnawed at him, making him feel like he was being eaten alive by his own words.
He’d said they were friends just last night, but he hadn’t meant...he’d thought it was more...
“Without your help, I wouldn’t have two gentlemen pursuing me,” she continued, her voice strained but light.
Happy.
His heart sank to his feet.
“Two?” he repeated dully. Was he supposed to feign enthusiasm? Was it not enough that he was watching the woman he cared about move on without him?
His own fault, of course. He suspected he had a chance with her for a moment there, before he’d told her the truth about himself, about his inability to commit to a wife.
Before he’d pushed her into the waiting arms of not one but two other gentlemen.
“Yes, your friend the major asked me to walk with him this afternoon,” she said.
She was backing away from him, her words rushed as she tripped over her own feet in her haste to get away.
“The major.” Apparently he’d so thoroughly lost his wits over this girl that all he could do was echo her words.
It was no wonder she’d chosen Alex over him.
“Yes, he seems quite pleasant.” She was all but running from him now. “I was just on my way to meet him, in fact. That was why my mother was looking for me, you see. So if you don’t mind, I’ll just...”
She never did finish her statement.
The door shut behind her before she had the chance.
He stood there for far too long, wondering how on earth he’d managed to meet a wallflower, kiss her, fall in love with her, and then drive her away...
And all in the span of four and twenty hours.
Chapter Fourteen
Marigold’s pulse raced as her feet all but flew down the thickly carpeted hall. That conversation had been truly awful.
Not that they’d said much of anything, really.
He’d told her that her kiss was...nice.
And she’d repeated that he was a good...friend.
Blah. She slowed her feet, drawing in a deep breath as she tried to calm the rapid beat of her heart. This was why hiding was often better.
The new brave part of her wished to turn back, find him once again, and admit all sorts of dangerous truths.
I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be more.
I kissed you, not for experience, but because you are my heart’s desire.
Her feet stopped all together. She held him in her heart?
Marigold, the wallflower, was in love with a marquess.
Silly silly girl, she chastised herself, her hands covering her stomach. He’d been nothing if not clear. And he’d been attempting to repeat the lesson just now in the music room.
Your kiss was nice... The words echoed in her head. Of course he’d been trying to tell her, without actually saying the words that he didn’t wish for anymore of a relationship than they already had.
Her shoulders slumped. Only she’d beaten him to the words because she couldn’t bear to hear them.
Very brave.
Her mother came into view up ahead, Major Mayfield at her side. He gave her that kind smile, the one she’d noticed last night.
Now there was a man that she’d like to call a friend. He didn’t make her pulse race or her heart thrum in her chest. He didn’t make her wish to do foolishly brave things like stand up on her toes and place a kiss on his lips.
She sighed. But Max, who did make her feel those things, only wished to be pals or chums or something equally ridiculous. And the major, who felt more like a kind, older brother, was interested in courting her.
No wonder she had remained hidden behind a fern for so long. Love and courting were complicated.
Forcing her feet forward, she dropped into a curtsey. “Major Mayfield, it is a pleasure to see you.”
“And you as well, Miss Clearwater.” His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I am loo
king forward to our garden tour.”
“As am I,” she answered, forcing her voice to hold a hint of excitement.
He held out his arm to her. “I thought, perhaps, if you were amenable, instead of touring the rose garden, we’d take a walk on a lovely little path just outside the music room. It leads to a smaller garden on the far side of the house.”
He wished to walk past the music room? Her breath caught. Was Max still in there? If he was, surely he would see them together.
She swallowed down a lump. Not that Max would care. It was his entire plan that he make her more appealing to suitors. But somehow, seeing Max while she walked on the major’s arm seemed...painful.
“You...you don’t wish to see the roses?” she asked as she slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow.
He started forward, her mother trailing behind to chaperone from a distance.
He shook his head. “Not particularly.”
“Oh but...” She gave a small tug on his arm. “You’ve only just arrived and they are beautiful.”
The still-open door to the music room came into view and her heart hammered in her chest.
The major surprised her by tugging her off the path. “Shall we take a tour of the music room since it is open?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. The major steered them into the room that she had fled just moments before. Marigold swept her gaze over the elegantly furnished interior, finding it blessedly empty. She slumped in relief.
“The thing about roses is that they are so cultured, they are all exactly the same. No variety whatsoever. They can be different colors, of course, but that is just dressing.”
She furrowed her brow, cocking her head to the side, attempting to attend the conversation. “Surely, there are differences in each individual rose?”
The major gave her another smile. “I am sure that there are. But one must look very closely to find them. Now in this garden that we’re about to walk in...” He stopped in the middle of the music room. “There are a wide array of beautiful blooms. Each unique and different and utterly stunning. For example, I believe there is an entire section of the most magnificent marigolds.”
A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances Page 32
