by Darcy Burke
“Did you come to take Miss Knox on a promenade?” Lady Satterfield asked, prompting him before he could ask.
“Indeed I did.” He looked to Miss Knox to gauge her reaction.
Her eyes still possessed a somewhat guarded look, but she was quick to respond. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He barely presented his arm before she clasped it, and they were on their way. He noticed she didn’t even look at her mother. Her grip was tight; she was nearly clenching his forearm. “Why do I have the feeling I’ve rescued you?” he asked softly.
Her hold loosened. “You saved me from my mother. Oh, damnation, I didn’t mean to say that. Nor did I mean to say damnation.” She shook her head and breathed, “Damnation.”
Ned suppressed a smile. “Your secret is safe with me, on all counts.”
She looked up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. It was ivory and decorated with yellow flowers and a dark coral ribbon. “Is it?”
He laid his free hand over his heart. “On my honor.” They walked in silence for a moment. He began to wonder if there was some rift between her and her parents and that was why they’d stopped funding her Seasons. Since he preferred a wife who wasn’t particularly close to her family, this suited him just fine. However, he was bothered by it troubling Miss Knox. Which it clearly did. “Why do you need saving from your mother?”
“I don’t. Not really. I just… We aren’t close.”
“I see. I admit I did wonder why you’re sponsored by Lady Satterfield. Why isn’t your mother here with you in Town? Is she ill?”
“No.” She seemed to hesitate before adding, “She doesn’t like London.”
He wasn’t sure if that was the truth—or at least the entire truth—but he didn’t want to press her. “I hope you don’t mind my asking. Like you, I’ve no interest in gossip. I’m merely trying to get to know you better.”
“Yes, to see if we’ll suit.”
He still couldn’t tell if she returned his interest. “I’m sorry to hear you and your mother are estranged. Both of my parents are dead. I miss them.” He kept his gaze trained straight ahead.
“How long have they been gone?” Her query was soft, comforting.
“About thirteen years for my mother and about eight for my father.” While he missed them both, the emotion was tainted. They’d both changed so much after George’s illness had struck. Especially his father. By the time Father had died, they were barely speaking. “It’s odd because we look up to them—our parents—so much, but in the end, they’re just people.”
Her gait slowed, and she turned her head to look at him. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I don’t really look up to mine, however.” She winced, and he could see she wanted to take that back.
He stopped, turning toward her. “It’s all right,” he said. “Our secret.” He glanced around. “No one can hear us. Feel free to tell me your heart’s deepest desire.” He hadn’t meant for that to sound provocative or for it to generate heat in his belly, but it did. Her eyes flashed with something that kindled that warmth, and now he wouldn’t regret it either.
“I just want to be free.” It came out as a whisper and was instantly carried away on the breeze. She lowered her gaze. “But I know that’s a ridiculous notion. No one—no woman, anyway—is ever truly free.”
No man either. Everyone had obligations, commitments, loyalties. Well, he supposed some didn’t. He wasn’t free by any means, but he wouldn’t trade it. He wouldn’t trade George.
“Free is a state of mind, I think. Like you said, no one is truly free, and I’m not sure I’d want to be. I like being tied to things. To people.” He looked at her intently, thinking he might like being tied to her. All sorts of lurid images invaded his mind.
She returned his gaze without flinching, stoking the flame inside him. “What of your heart’s deepest desire?”
“I’m still trying to find it.”
The breeze lifted the ribbons of her bonnet so that they blew up. She blinked and swiped at them. Instinctively, he reached to push them down. His fingertips grazed her cheek and then connected with her hand. Neither pulled away immediately, their hands dropping together in time until they reluctantly drew apart.
“We should turn back,” she said, pivoting on the path.
He didn’t want to. He preferred to sweep her behind a shrubbery and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe.
“Damnation.” She slapped her gloved hand to her mouth and flicked him an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”
He chuckled, finding her use of that word endearing for some reason. She looked like the consummate proper miss, but he was learning that she was anything but. Not that she wasn’t proper, but that she wasn’t what met the eye. And he liked that.
He looked down the path and saw the reason for her expletive. “Is that Lindsell with your mother and Lady Satterfield?” He knew that it was.
“Yes.” She made a guttural sound of pure disgust. “Can we walk very, very slowly, please?” she asked.
“We can do whatever you like.” In fact, he’d be happy to take her on a complete circuit around the park, which would surely take them past sunset. Particularly if they went very, very slowly.
“Please excuse my behavior,” she said. “I know I should keep my emotions to myself, but I’ve never been very good at it. Lord knows I’ve tried.” She took a deep breath and forced a smile that looked as though it might split her face in two.
“What is the matter with Lindsell? Is he bothering you?” If so, Ned would take care of the matter. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the louse talking to the ladies.
“Ha, bothering me. Yes, though I suppose it goes much deeper than that. Unfortunately, my father has decided I shall marry him. The banns are to be read on Sunday.”
Ned slowed their progress until they stopped. Sunday was just a few days away. How was he to complete his assessment by then? He didn’t want to lose her, not when he was nearly certain she could be the one he’d been looking for. Her words came back to him—his heart’s deepest desire…
“Am I correct in interpreting that you don’t wish to marry him?” he asked.
“Quite.”
“Then why are you?”
She looked up at him, from the side of her eye. “Do you really need to ask? My father has decided.”
Her desire for freedom made even more sense now. “Your father knows you don’t want this?”
She shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter if he did. My mother informed me of this development only a few hours ago. I suppose I’m still trying to accept it.” She didn’t sound resigned, as he might’ve expected a young woman to be. She sounded angry.
He abruptly turned with her and quickened their pace. “There’s no need to return you right now, is there?”
She let out a little gasp but kept up with him. “No. Thank you.” She tossed him a glance that was pure appreciation.
Glad for the excuse to prolong their promenade, his mind whirred with how to fix this inconvenient situation. Inconvenient? A scoundrel was attempting to steal the woman he was interested in from right beneath his nose. That was a shade more than inconvenient. He had to be stopped.
A most inappropriate solution vaulted to the front of his mind. He could compromise Miss Knox here, now, and then she would be his. But he wasn’t a scoundrel. He was, however, desperate to keep her from marrying Lindsell. Even if Miss Knox didn’t become Ned’s countess, he couldn’t bear to see her with a cretin like him.
He led her to a break in the path and drew her to a halt. Turning, he laid his free hand over hers and gazed down into the stirring blue of her eyes. “Miss Knox, though our acquaintance has been somewhat short, I hold you in very high esteem. I should very much like the opportunity to court you. May I write to your father immediately?”
Aquilla blinked up at him, disbelieving. Her mind, already tumbling with thoughts and emotions, went blank for a moment.
He said nothing, just stared at her
, his gray eyes deep and intense, like a rain cloud just before it let loose its moisture. His hand moved over hers, lightly stroking. Goodness, if someone looked at them right now they would glimpse a scene of perhaps too much intimacy. She needed to step back, to keep moving, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Entranced, she worked to find words.
“My father has made up his mind.” That was all she could think to say?
“Your father doesn’t know an earl wants to court you.”
He had a point there. An earl certainly trumped Lindsell, a mere baron.
But courtship led to marriage…or embarrassment if they didn’t wed. She could live with the latter, while the former still filled her with dread.
She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut again as her mind warred with itself. She started to walk, tugging him along with her.
His question from earlier screamed above the other noise in her head—what was her heart’s deepest desire?
Freedom? Yes. Happiness? Yes. Love? She’d never dared to imagine…and she wasn’t sure she could. But she knew she’d have none of those things with Lindsell, so it made sense that she should do whatever possible to avoid that marriage. Accepting Sutton’s courtship didn’t mean she had to marry him.
“You’re considering,” he said, jarring her from her tumultuous thoughts. “I won’t pretend your lack of response isn’t a bit disconcerting.
The self-deprecation in his tone made her smile. “Yes, I’m considering.” Whether it was terrible to encourage him when she had no intention of marrying him any more than Lindsell.
But he’s the Duke of Deception, her mind argued. He doesn’t intend to marry either.
Except that he said he did. She looked askance at him. “Courtship…not marriage.”
“You want the opportunity to walk away if we find we don’t suit.”
She nodded, knowing that she’d still bear the brunt of any negative gossip should that happen.
“Won’t you be forced to marry Lindsell, then?”
“I am hopeful that I’ll have found an alternative…situation.” She doubted her father would ever let her take the companion route—not so long as Lindsell was waiting in the wings. “Or perhaps Lindsell will marry someone else.”
He flashed her a half smile. “That’s what we ought to do—find him a different bride.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I’d wish that on anyone.” Her mind turned to some of the young ladies who’d been cruel to her over the years as they’d married and she’d remained on the shelf. No, she wouldn’t even wish it on any of them. Not that any of them were unmarried and available.
“You’re very kindhearted, Miss Knox.”
She tried to be, but she still felt guilt about not being honest with Lady Satterfield from the start. And now she felt bad accepting Sutton’s courtship when she had no intention of marrying him. Maybe it was difficult to be kindhearted when one’s heart had been hardened from years of neglect and abuse.
“Thank you. I’ll accept your offer of courtship, provided my father agrees. I’m not certain he will.”
“I’ll persuade him. Surely there’s nothing Lindsell can offer that I cannot.”
She recalled the parcel of land. “Actually, there is. He’s giving my father some land he wants in exchange for marrying me.”
Anger ignited in his eyes. “The blasted cur.” He stroked her hand, provoking a delightful spark that jolted through her wrist and shot up her arm. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”
She believed him. She just wasn’t sure it would be enough. Darting a glance toward Lady Satterfield and her mother, she saw that Lindsell was no longer there. “We should return.”
His gaze followed hers. “Yes, I suppose we should.” He slowly withdrew his hand from hers, and she was shocked to find she had to stop herself from drawing it back. She lifted her eyes to his and for the briefest moment felt a rush of excitement trailed by a sense of peace. Neither were emotions she was used to experiencing.
Perplexed, she walked beside him along the path. She liked him, she realized. She’d never really liked any of the gentlemen she’d met, but then very few had spent as much time with her as Sutton had. Or had displayed anywhere near the same level or caliber of interest. Actually, none of them had done either of those things, including Lindsell.
Could Sutton really want to marry her? The temptation to entertain that notion, to imagine the future she’d long ago abandoned, was nearly overpowering.
But she mustn’t do that. She had to keep her head and focus on avoiding this hideous marriage her father had arranged.
When they reached their destination, Lady Satterfield beamed at them. “Did you have a nice promenade?”
They both answered in the affirmative while Aquilla’s mother delivered a withering stare. “You were gone an awfully long time,” she said, her voice dripping with reproach. “Lindsell was here, but he couldn’t stay.”
“Yes, pity,” Lady Satterfield said with a smile. “I’m so glad you had a lovely walk.”
“Regrettably, I must return Miss Knox to you.” Sutton withdrew his arm.
Aquilla was sorry to see him go.
“I look forward to seeing you on Saturday,” he said, making an elegant bow to the three of them. “Good afternoon.”
Aquilla watched him depart. The tails of his bottle-green coat grazed the backs of his thighs. He was a very fine specimen of man—not just in how he looked, but in how he felt. Even through his clothing, she could feel that his arm was strong and well formed, something she’d also noticed when they’d danced. She’d given up hoping for intimacy with a gentleman, and for the first time wished things could be different.
Well, she supposed they could if she was forced to marry Lindsell. Bile gathered in her throat, but she shoved the sensation away in favor of focusing on Sutton’s departing backside.
Lady Satterfield moved close to Aquilla. “How was your walk with Sutton? You looked like you were talking somewhat intimately.”
Aquilla ought not have been surprised that they’d observed her and Sutton on the path. She’d known how it would look, had told herself she should back away. And yet she hadn’t. She glanced at her mother, saw the familiar cold, distant look in her eyes, and blurted, “He asked to court me.”
Her mother’s eyes widened but didn’t lose their frigid cast. Lady Satterfield smiled broadly. “How wonderful.”
“He plans to write to Father immediately,” Aquilla said, looking at her mother.
“I’m not sure it will matter,” Mother murmured.
Lady Satterfield turned and directed a perturbed stare at Aquilla’s mother. “Why not? Sutton is an earl. He has impeccable standing and is incredibly wealthy to boot.”
Mother’s mouth tightened in her familiar grimace. “He’s also notorious for showing interest in young ladies and doing nothing about it. Why would Aquilla be any different?”
It was a valid argument cloaked in a subtle insult. Aquilla wasn’t offended—she was far too immune to things her mother said—but she could see that Lady Satterfield was. The countess’s jaw dropped slightly, and her eyes narrowed. “Aquilla is different because she’s a lovely young woman, and I can see that Sutton thinks so too. He wants to marry. He’s just been waiting for the right bride.”
Aquilla still wasn’t convinced that was her, but she acknowledged that for now he was hoping she might be. That alone was exhilarating—if she allowed herself to dwell on it.
Eloise Knox lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. Clearly her daughter’s future meant about as much to her as the weather. “Sutton might have potential, but Lindsell is a guarantee. The banns are to be read on Sunday. I don’t see my husband postponing that to wait and see if Sutton comes up to scratch.”
Lady Satterfield shot Aquilla an apologetic glance before shaking her head at Aquilla’s mother in disbelief. “I can’t imagine why you, her mother, wouldn’t want to intercede on her behalf. She doesn’t wish to marry Lindsell. Sutt
on is an excellent alternative—preferential, in fact. I may write to Sir Chester Knox myself, since it seems you will not.”
Aquilla allowed her gaze to flit to her mother, who was looking at her with pain deep in her gray-green eyes. She blinked and it was gone, replaced with the unemotional flatness Aquilla was most used to. “I’ll write to him, but you mustn’t think it will do much good.”
Of that, Aquilla was certain. She was tempted to tell her not to bother, lest it would invite his wrath upon her. But she didn’t want to say anything in front of Lady Satterfield. There were some things that weren’t ever meant to be shared. Some things that were best buried and avoided at all costs.
Lady Satterfield straightened, her expression cooling in the wake of Aquilla’s mother’s capitulation. “It’s better than doing nothing. In the meantime, we’ll simply do what we can to encourage Lord Sutton along.”
Aquilla’s gaze snapped to the countess. What did she mean by that? Aquilla didn’t want to marry him any more than she wanted to marry Lindsell. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. If she had to marry someone, she supposed she’d take Sutton over Lindsell. Could she keep either one from happening? A knot of anxiety formed in her gut. She was fairly certain she’d be Lady Lindsell before a month was out.
Lady Satterfield gave her a warm smile that was meant to be comforting, but Aquilla only grew more agitated as she felt inescapable walls closing in around her. The notion of running away enveloped her mind as they made their way to the carriage.
How would she manage it? She had some pin money tucked away, but not enough to sail to America. She needed to consult with Ivy. Or Lucy. Yes, Lucy would help her, and Lucy had means. Perhaps she could convince Ivy to take a trip to Darent Hall tomorrow to visit Lucy.
She began to relax as she realized she wasn’t alone. She had good friends who would help her. Including Nora, a duchess. And Lady Satterfield.
But, in the end, was there anything to be done if one’s father was insistent on marrying one off?
Chapter Seven
