by Tracy Kay
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Joselyn huffed. She glared crossly at Corinna when she tried to stifle her snort of laughter with a cough and covered her mouth to hide her wide grin.
“You did, Joselyn,” Gretchen stated blithely. “You reject all your other beaus but Lord Marshall and Lord Henry. What else was I to assume?” Gretchen asked innocently, secretly giving Madeline and Corinna a wink when Joselyn turned away to greet the approaching men.
“Lord Henry, Lord Marshall, it is good seeing you both,” Joselyn mumbled politely.
Taking her hand in his, Henry greeted her. “It is a pleasure, my dear. Would you honor me with a dance?”
Joselyn glanced quickly at Madeline, Gretchen, and Corinna before answering. “I would be delighted,” she lied and gave Corinna another cross glare when she burst out laughing unable to contain herself any longer.
As Joselyn and Henry moved onto the dance floor, Marshall extended his arm. “Lady Madeline?”
Madeline shrugged off her headache and replied, “Why not? Excuse us.” Madeline nodded to her friends and took his arm, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. As they danced a waltz, Madeline commented, “You dance splendidly, Lord Marshall.”
“Thank you, my lady. You are a wonderful dancer yourself.” Madeline smiled at him in reply and they were silent for a few moments as they danced. As they made a second pass around the floor, Marshall asked boldly, “I don’t have a chance with Lady Joselyn, do I?”
Startled, Madeline was flabbergasted and did not know how to answer. After a moment, she settled on telling the truth. “No, Lord Marshall, you don’t. She is not interested. She thinks of you as a friend.”
“A friend.” Marshall accepted Madeline’s answer. It was time for him to move on and to find someone who could love him. “How do you think of me, Lady Madeline?”
“Oh, Marshall.” She cared for Marshall, but she could never marry him, even if Brandon did approve of him, which he wouldn’t. She didn’t think of him in that way, and if she did marry, she wanted to at least be attracted to the man. “I think of you as a friend, Marshall. You know there could never be anything between us. My brother would never approve.”
Dejected, he agreed. “I know, but it was worth asking.”
“I am flattered, Marshall.” She patted his arm lightly. “We have been friends for a long time.”
“I suppose I am not husband material. I am a bit eccentric,” he admitted miserably.
“Yes, Marshall, you are eccentric, but I think for the right woman, you would make a good husband. You have a kind heart and,” Madeline giggled, “quite a flare for the dramatic.” Sympathizing with his feelings, she added, “You know, Marshall, I might know a girl who would be a good match for you.”
“And who would that be?” He asked dryly, not believing there was a woman who could love him.
“Clara DeVey,” Madeline answered. “She is young, but she is sweet and she has similar taste as you, Marshall. Would you like to meet her?”
Smiling at Madeline and her efforts to help him, he nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”
“You are in luck. She is here at the ball. To give you a little background,” Madeline added, “she is Gretchen’s cousin on her mother’s side. She is from a very good family. She is the fourth daughter, and only seventeen, but her parents are anxious to marry her off, not because of any scandal,” she assured him, “but because she is their last child and they want her settled.”
“No scandal? I don’t want to deal with a wife who is in love with another man.”
“I guarantee she is not in love, and if there was a scandal, Marshall, I would tell you.”
“Then I would like to meet her,” Marshall agreed with sincerity. He trusted Madeline explicitly for he knew she would never give him poor advice. She was a true friend.
Madeline led him off the dance floor and headed in the direction of Clara and her mother across the room.
“Lady Madeline untangled herself from Nevell.” Henry nodded in their direction as he moved Joselyn around the dance floor.
“Knowing Madeline, she is about to set him up with some unsuspecting woman,” Joselyn snickered, watching Madeline introduce Marshall to a pretty, young girl Joselyn did not know.
“She seems to know everyone, doesn’t she?” he said dryly.
“Yes, certainly,” Joselyn agreed off-handedly, a bit bored with the conversation and the ball. If it hadn’t been for Madeline and Gretchen, she wouldn’t have even attended, let alone still be here. She was not enjoying herself at all. She winced in pain when Henry stepped on her foot for the third time.
“Pardon,” he mumbled, unashamed of his misstep. Taking a deep breath, Henry broached the subject he had been avoiding. “Have you thought about my proposal?”
“What?” Joselyn questioned, taken by surprise.
“My proposal? Have you made a decision?” He was perturbed that she seemed to have forgotten he had asked her to marry him.
“Lord Henry, I . . .” Joselyn paused and frowned at him. “Lord Henry, I don’t think we would make a good match.” She did not want to have this discussion, particularly on a dance floor. She thought it was odd and inappropriate.
“And why not?” Henry demanded, a bit put off by her answer.
“I don’t love you,” she stated honestly.
“Love will come with time,” he argued. “Many couples marry without love, Lady Joselyn. I am completely suitable and your aunt did approve of a match between us,” he reminded her. If she was still alive, he was sure Beatrice would be on his side of things. He didn’t understand Joselyn’s reasons for rejecting him.
“That is true, Lord Henry, but it has been a very difficult time for me. I want to wait until I am no longer threatened and I am out of danger before I decide on a husband. I am not ready to make that choice,” she explained, desperately hoping to put Henry off a little longer.
“But you will soon?” Henry was encouraged. It was only her grief and fear keeping her from agreeing. He was positive she would consent in time.
“Perhaps. I don’t know, Lord Henry.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I have had other offers, and I need to have a clear head before I make my choice. I need to make sure it is the right one. You do understand, don’t you, Lord Henry?” She didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t want to hurt him either. She didn’t like the man and she had no intention of ever marrying him.
“I suppose.” Other offers? This was the first he had heard of other offers. He was certain Nevell hadn’t proposed to her yet. Who else was courting her, he wondered. He tried to hide his distress and disappointment. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. I suppose I can wait a little longer,” he deferred patiently, not understanding at all. He wanted her to be his, not Nevell’s or some other man’s.
“Thank you for your patience,” Joselyn responded as the music stopped and the dance ended. “Excuse me, Lord Henry, I need something to drink. All this dancing has made me parched.”
Henry watched her with narrowed eyes as she glided off the dance floor and into the crowd. He continued to watch her as several men headed for her, and then with a sigh of resignation, turned away.
Joselyn glanced back at Henry, pleased he had diverted his attention elsewhere. Henry was becoming tedious and it was getting harder to avoid him. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do about it, but for now, she would put him out of her mind and try to enjoy the remainder of the ball. She looked around her at the men vying for her attention and she liked that. Too bad she couldn’t find a new conquest until after the mess with Farrington was resolved. The gown for this ball had cost her a fortune, and she could use the money a new affair would give her. Startled out of her reverie by a light push on her back from the crush of people, she moved forward to get that drink she needed.
“May I?” Nicholas lightly took Joselyn’s arm before her many admirers surrounded her for the next dance, and led her to the refreshment table.
; “Yes,” she replied, relieved and grateful for his rescue.
Nicholas handed her a glass of punch. “You are lovely tonight.”
Joselyn blushed shyly and sipped her drink. “Thank you, Nicholas.”
“Why don’t we get some air?” Nicholas took the glass from her hand and put it on the table. He placed a hand on her lower back and steered her towards the patio doors. “It is unseasonably warm tonight.”
“Yes, it is.” After a long pause, she scanned the garden, noticing a secluded bench near a large tree. Taking Nicholas’ hand, she tugged on it. “Why don’t we sit over there?” She pointed at the bench. “I could use a rest.”
Nicholas followed her silently, admiring her graceful gait, her slim hips, and her long neck with her red hair piled high, giving her tall figure even more height. Her beauty took his breath away.
“Is something on your mind, Nicholas? Something about Farrington?” She inquired as she sat on the bench, drawing him down beside her.
Nicholas took both her hands in his. “No, nothing like that. Although, I do wish I knew what Farrington was planning next. But he isn’t what I want to talk to you about.” He paused and studied her elegant hands in his large ones.
“What is it, Nicholas?” she inquired with curiosity.
“I know this isn’t the time or the place, and if Jeremy were a little older, I would be talking to him about this.” Nicholas was nervous and he felt like a youth with his first woman. He silently berated himself, irritated with his anxiety. He was a grown man for god’s sake.
“Nicholas, please, tell me.” She gazed at him with large, brown eyes.
Giving her hands a light squeeze, he took a deep breath. “Joselyn, I care for you a great deal. What I mean to say . . .” In exasperation, he ran his hand through his hair and muttered, “I am mucking this up. What I am trying to say,” he paused, cupping her face with his palm. “Joselyn, I care for you and I would like for you to be my wife.” There, he got the words out and he didn’t die doing it. Now, she only had to say yes.
Joselyn stared at him in surprise. She never expected him to ask her to marry him. Seduce her yes, but marry her, she couldn’t believe that. She looked down at his hands holding hers, then after a moment, she peered up shyly at him. “Nicholas, I am honored, and I care for you too, but I am afraid.” She faltered, not knowing how to express herself.
“Afraid of what, Joselyn?” He caressed her hand encouragingly.
“I have lost most of my family, Nicholas. I don’t think . . . if I lost you . . .” For once she was at a loss. She didn’t understand her feelings and she didn’t trust herself.
“Look at me, Joselyn.” He lifted her chin up to meet his sky blue eyes. “Nothing in this world is definite. I cannot promise you that I will live forever because I won’t, but I will do the best that I can to be a good husband to you.” He let go of her chin, brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles before dropping his hand. “We would make a good match, Joselyn. Don’t let Farrington, or your fear, keep us from our happiness.”
“Nicholas, I don’t know. I never wanted to marry and with my past . . .” She tilted her head and made a slight gesture with her free hand. She didn’t know how to answer him. His proposal was tempting. He was titled, wealthy, strong and capable. She would want for nothing and she would never make a better match. But he was a Cathcart male, and that meant rules and obedience. She wasn’t sure she could live with that.
“That does not matter to me,” he said emphatically, not caring about her past deeds or her affairs.
“You say that now, but . . .”
Placing a finger to her lips, Nicholas stopped her words. “Your past is your past. We will put it behind us and start fresh.”
“That is what Madeline says I should do, but I don’t know if I can.” She brushed the stray tear from her cheek. The thought of marrying Nicholas left her tingling. She could see herself growing old with this man, having a beautiful life. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone else before despite her many affairs and proposals, including Henry’s. It was funny. She should feel honored and lucky to have two men clamoring to marry her, but all she felt was despair.
“And she is right,” Nicholas agreed with his sister’s wise advice.
“I have never trusted anyone in the past and I don’t know if I can now,” Joselyn tried to explain, uncertain of herself and him.
“Joselyn, there is nothing to fear with me. I would never hurt you, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand.
“I know. Let me think about this, Nicholas. Please,” she pleaded with wide eyes.
“Certainly, but to persuade you . . .” Nicholas gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply. After what seemed a very long time, Nicholas reluctantly pulled away from her.
“Nicholas?” Dazed, she looked up at him questioningly, not understanding why he ended the tantalizing kiss.
“If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.” He smiled at her and stood, guiding her up with him. “Dance with me?”
Breathless, she nodded as he escorted her onto the dance floor.
He watched the couple through the trees, seething with anger. She was his. Nicholas Cathcart had no right to touch her, to kiss her. How dare she allow him to touch her? What scheme was she up to now? It didn’t matter. Cathcart would never have her. He would kill him first. She belonged to him and he was going to make sure she suffered as much as she made him suffer.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As Nicholas twirled Joselyn around the dance floor, Madeline swept past them, noticing the bemused look on her face. Madeline smiled, knowing that her brother was the cause. She saw them go out to the garden earlier and she had stood watch for some time, keeping people out of the garden to give them privacy. She didn’t mind Nicholas flirting with Joselyn, as long as it didn’t go beyond that. She knew Nicholas was a bit fickle when it came to the ladies, a regular womanizer. Perhaps she should warn Joselyn, or maybe not, she grinned.
“I hope that smile is for me,” said the man who was dancing with her.
“Why yes, it is,” Madeline lied and smiled brightly at him. “Lord Alfred, tell me something about yourself. I know you usually don’t attend these functions. Do you find them tedious?” Madeline forced the smile to stay on her face despite her revulsion. She had noticed Alfred the moment he entered the ballroom. Except for the blue eyes, Alfred resembled his father, and she hadn’t needed introductions to know he was a Farrington. Although she was disappointed that Aaron Farrington hadn’t attended the ball himself, she wasn’t surprised by it. Madeline had seen Alfred a time or two at other such gatherings; however, she had never met him prior to this evening. Alfred made her uneasy and she had to force herself to stay in his arms. She would have to tolerate his touch in order to get the answers he could provide.
“Actually, Lady Madeline, I enjoy such events, but I have been out of the country for some time; however, other than my older brother, my brothers and sister prefer our estate in Cornwall, and they don’t attend many functions.” He smiled pleasantly at her, enjoying the dance and the conversation. She seemed genuinely interested in him and he found that refreshing. Most of the women her age talked about themselves and their acquaintances.
“Are you from Cornwall?” she inquired politely, hoping her easy questions would lead to something more.
“No. I spent most of my childhood with my father at his various estates. He had a habit of going from estate to estate. Then when I came of age, I went to school and then toured the Continent.”
“I don’t keep up with all the Lords of the Realm; consequently, I am not familiar with your family name. If I may ask, who is your father?” Madeline lied in an innocent and simpering tone. She knew most of the nobility and gentry in England and knew the answer to her question, but she didn’t want him knowing that.
Alfred smirked, believing that she wanted to know his title and wealth, and he was unaware that she knew exactly who he was. “My father is Aaron Farrington,
the Marquess of Brumley. I assure you, we are quite wealthy enough for your family. Your parents would approve.” He grinned slyly at her and moved his hand to her buttock and pulled her closer. Although a little too voluptuous for his taste, Madeline was attractive, wealthy, and a woman of good breeding. After all, his father did tell him to learn more about the Cathcarts, and with the right incentive, perhaps his father would approve his marriage to her, putting the feud between the families to an end. That would certainly solve some problems. Yes, his mind was made up. Madeline Cathcart was going to be his wife.
Madeline guided his hand back to her waist, leaned slightly away, and repressed the impulse to run. “I am sure your lineage and wealth are adequate enough for any parents to approve,” she responded evasively. “Is your father currently in London?”
“Actually, he is in London which is unusual for him, considering how much he loathes the city. However, it is convenient for us,” he stated absently, sliding his hand back onto her buttock.
“How is that?” Again, Madeline moved his hand back to her waist. The conversation was not going at all the way she had planned and she was becoming annoyed with his advances. She wished he would take the hint and keep his hand where it was supposed to be.
“I am sure our parents would like to meet.” Alfred once again moved his hand to her behind, liking the feel of it in his hand.
Startled, Madeline questioned, “Why ever for?”
“For our marriage plans, obviously. I am positive they will be pleased with the arrangement and relieved to have me take you off their hands. You aren’t exactly the most beautiful or youngest woman on the market, and you are a bit of a handful.” Alfred grinned and gave her plump bottom a tight squeeze to make his point.
