Luke knew exactly what she meant. “Let me guess. You’re proceeding along quite brilliantly—”
“And then something spooks the horses,” she said, using the dramatic voice she had learned in theatre class.
“A runaway team, threatening everyone and everything in its path,” Luke said, imitating her dramatic delivery.
“Rearing up and neighing,” she said, as one gloved hand pantomimed a rearing horse. “The reins escaping my hold and dragging on the street below.”
“Your father jumping onto a horse to take control—”
“Settling both horses until they come to a halt right in front of our destination,” she finished with a musical laugh.
She turned to find the viscount gazing at her. A frisson shot through her body and she sighed, knowing full well her bonnet did nothing to hide her blush.
“And where might that destination be?” Luke asked, his voice barely audible above the sounds of the horses’ hooves.
The delightful grin reappeared. “Gunther’s Tea Shop,” she replied with a giggle. “Where he’ll order a bergamot pear ice.”
Luke angled his head. “What will you order?”
“Lemon. Or strawberry,” she murmured, her manner sobering.
“Why not both?” he countered, wondering if he could get away with taking her there for an ice that very moment.
She gave a sound of disbelief and then shrugged. “I’ve never thought to ask.”
As they took the sharp turn to go through the gate, Parker let out a squeak, her precarious position on the bench made more so. She tightened her hold on Analise’s arm, which had Analise jerked sideways—away from Luke. Reacting without thinking, Luke wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. “I’ve got you!” he assured her, just as their thighs collided.
When his hand remained gripping the side of her waist, Analise turned to stare up at him. Parker, still overcome with fright, didn’t even notice how the viscount held onto her mistress. “Thank you, my lord,” Analise whispered, tempted to lean a bit more in his direction so she could end up pressed against his entire side, her head tucked into the small of his shoulder.
“Wessex,” he whispered. “Or Luke, when we’re alone.”
Analise stared at him a moment, wondering when that might be. She blinked when she heard shouts of greeting from another carriage that had come up alongside them.
Aware of how cozy they must appear, Analise wrapped a gloved hand across her waist to cover the evidence of his black kid-gloved hand that rested there. “Hello,” she called out as she leaned forward to see beyond Parker. All four of the Simpsons exchanged greetings with them.
Analise resisted the urge to mewl when the arm behind her waist pulled away, but she did nothing to reposition herself on the bench.
“You’re looking lovely as ever,” Luke said, his attention on Lady Simpson as he tipped his hat using the previously pre-occupied hand. “If my mother ever again deigned to live in the capital, she would be green with envy.”
Sarah Simpson dimpled. “You’re a bounder, Wessex,” she said, leaning over her daughter, Hannah, to make the good-natured accusation. “Please let her know I insist she pay a call if she ever does come to London. It’s been an age since I’ve seen Laura.”
Luke nodded. “I will, my lady,” he replied, at the same moment he noticed Miss Hannah and Analise exchanging meaningful glances. He was sure Hannah had pursed her lips to imitate a kiss, but he had no idea how Analise had responded. The edge of her bonnet hid her face from his view.
Hannah’s brother, Henry, who had also been watching the two young women, merely rolled his eyes before catching Luke’s gaze. He lifted his head in acknowledgement, although Luke had the distinct impression he was not happy to see Analise in his company. “Pull on ahead, Mr. Simpson, and we’ll follow you,” Luke said when the older gentleman gave a wave.
“Much obliged,” James Simpson said just before he urged his matched pair to quicken their pace.
Once they were in line with the other carriages making up the parade on Rotten Row, Luke angled his head in Analise’s direction. “Has Miss Hannah’s brother always held a candle for you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
Analise turned to regard him, her shock apparent. “Henry?” the word said in obvious disbelief. “He’s but a friend. I have known him since... since we were in leading strings, I suppose,” she explained.
Luke allowed a grin. “Hmm.”
Analise’s eyes widened. “What do you know?”
The viscount continued to grin as he regarded her, his gaze darting to the horses to ensure they stayed in line behind the Simpsons’ equipage. “I had the distinct impression that if his eyes had been capable of shooting daggers at me, I would now be full of them.”
Although her first thought was to deny there was—or ever would be—any attraction between her and Henry Simpson, Analise instead said, ”He’ll be an excellent catch for any young lady, once he’s a bit older and has finished his education.”
The Green Monster made a quick visit to Luke just then, and he struggled to keep a pleasant expression on his face. “Does that include you?”
Analise inhaled sharply and regarded the viscount for perhaps a moment too long. How dense could a man be? Didn’t Wessex know that if she had wanted to spend time in Henry’s company, she would be riding in their carriage instead of with him on his phaeton? Then she let out the breath she’d been holding and gave her head a shake. “It does not include me,” she admitted.
“And Lord Haddon? Will you be riding with him on the morrow?”
Blinking in alarm—Analise was sure she heard jealousy tinge his query—she was about to allow her indignation to show. She thought better of it, though, deciding she didn’t want to torture the man if he really did have feelings for her. If he wasn’t just taking her for this ride to appease her father, as Parker had suggested earlier that afternoon.
Angling her head in an effort to see more of the viscount’s face, Analise said, “Not that it’s any of your concern, but Lord Haddon hasn’t invited me to ride with him.”
Luke frowned. “He hasn’t?”
Analise shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, deciding she could tease him just a bit. She slumped then. “I apologize if you’re only doing this because my father put you up to it—”
“He did no such thing.” When Luke saw her look of disbelief, he added, “I was the one who suggested it.”
Unable to stop her mouth from dropping open, Analise stared at him for a moment before she schooled her features into a pleasant expression. “But, why?”
It was Luke’s turn to slump a bit, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He directed the horses to pull over to the side of the road before bringing them to a halt. “I don’t want Christopher Carlington anywhere near you.” Henry Simpson, either, he thought to add, but didn’t put voice to it.
Surprise had Analise’s eyes widening, their cornflower blue irises nearly the color of the afternoon sky. “Oh?” she managed to say, at the same moment he looked in her direction.
With her head turned as it was, her bonnet no longer hid her face from him. He was momentarily mesmerized when their eyes met. “Not that I think he will try anything—he would be a fool to do so—but...” He sighed and was about to lean closer when he was aware of how Parker was staring at him. “Perhaps we could go for a walk?” he suggested.
“I’d like that,” Analise murmured. Sitting so close as they were, she was well aware of the heat of his body, of his thighs still pressed against hers. And poor Parker was probably hanging onto the bench for dear life.
Luke paused a moment before he stepped down and tied the reins to the post. Then he came around and helped Parker down, noting how she seemed relieved to have solid ground beneath her feet.
When Analise moved to step down, he simply lifted her beneath the arms and lowered her until her slippered feet touched the lawn below. “Thank you,” she murmured. She placed her hand
atop his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her along a crushed granite path. Parker followed a few steps behind.
“I have reason to believe your father doesn’t want you to wed,” Luke began in preamble.
“He’s just teasing me,” Analise countered.
Luke didn’t look convinced and said, “But I think he would be amenable to your betrothal should he find a new wife.”
Analise narrowed her eyes. “Are you referring to Lady Wadsworth?” she asked.
He nodded. “I have known your father for some time, and I have never known him to pay any mind to a woman since your mother died,” he commented. “But since the Attenborough ball...”
“He’s in love with her,” Analise finished for him.
Allowing a wan grin, Luke said, “So you’re aware?” he half-asked.
“We talked of it during dinner.”
They walked in silence for a time, passing by trees and hedgerows until they were no longer visible from Rotten Row. “Does it... does it bother you that he wishes to take another wife?” Luke asked.
Analise shook her head. “When I first learned of it, I suppose. But only because he said Lady Wadsworth wanted a daughter.”
“And you don’t wish to be hers?”
Angling her head to one side, Analise considered the query for a time. “I suppose I should feel differently, but I had a mother I loved very much, so I admit my reaction was not very nice.” She paused. “In fact, I was a bit cruel to him.”
Luke gave her a quelling glance. “I don’t believe that.”
Ignoring his comment, Analise continued. “But then he said the countess wants a daughter of her own, and that he’d like to be the one to give her what she wants.”
Luke had to suppress the urge to grin. Poor Lancaster! The man was truly in love.
“Would you accept a child of theirs as your sibling?” he asked then, rather surprised by how personal his questions were and how willing she seemed to be answering them.
Analise made a sound in the back of her throat. “Of course I would,” she said finally. “By the time that happens, I might be married. I might have a child of my own.”
Had he heard such words just a few weeks ago, Luke would have been relieved at knowing he wasn’t the one who had fathered said child. But just then, he had an overwhelming desire to be that father.
What the hell?
Before he even knew what he was doing, Luke paused and turned to regard Analise. She stared up at him, a look of surprise once again widening her eyes. “I would like to kiss you,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. Apparently he had forgotten the lady’s maid was with them.
Analise blinked. She glanced over at Parker and was stunned when the maid dipped a curtsy and simply turned around to face the other direction.
When she turned back to face Luke, his head lowered until his forehead rested against the top of her bonnet. A moment later, and his lips brushed over hers.
Feather light and barely there, the touch of their lips ended far too quickly. So when her hand reached up to grip his lapel for support, she raised herself on tiptoes and did the same to him, this time gratified when his lips captured hers more completely.
Lost in the moment and in the scent of honeysuckle that seemed to surround them, Luke wrapped an arm around the back of her waist and held her up, returning her kiss for several seconds before finally pulling away. “I wish I could do that every day.”
Analise swallowed, her gaze going between his heavy-lidded eyes and his lips. She was aware of his arousal, aware of how his cologne had changed to include a hint of musk. And aware that his expression had turned to one of lust. “Why do you make it sound as if you cannot?” she asked in a whisper.
Luke blinked. Why indeed? “Your father will have my head—”
“My father needn’t know.”
Analise could barely believe what she had just said. Luke must already think her fast. She had allowed him to kiss her in broad daylight.
And she had kissed him back!
A quick glance in Parker’s direction showed the lady’s maid had wandered off the path to a flower garden, her attention on the mums that were still in bloom.
Luke raised his face to the sky and took a deep breath. He chuckled and allowed a sound of disbelief. And then he lowered his head back down to hers and kissed her again, this time placing a hand along her jaw, then sliding it down her neck.
When he finally pulled away, he regarded Analise with an expression of wonder. “I do hope your lady’s maid can be trusted to keep quiet,” he murmured. “Or I really shall be a dead man.”
Analise allowed a wan grin. “I’ll speak with her, of course,” she replied, before her expression changed. “Do you think me... fast?”
Luke frowned and shook his head. “Of course not.” He knew she hadn’t been kissed before. Knew she hadn’t kissed another man before, at least on the lips. Her manner had been too tentative, too careful. There had been a sense of wonder surrounding their kisses. A sense of innocence he found refreshing. “Was mine your first kiss?”
A blush colored her face and she dipped her head. “Was it that obvious?”
Luke’s smile brightened his face as he once again kissed her, this time a stolen kiss she barely had time to return. “It was perfect.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “That bad, huh?”
He laughed then and pulled her into a hug. “You’re going to steal my heart, aren’t you?”
Sobering, Analise dipped her head. “I cannot steal it if it’s freely offered.”
Damn, but he couldn’t believe what was happening. They were speaking of hearts, which meant they felt affection for one another. “And what about yours?”
“A bit afraid of being broken,” she replied.
“As is mine.”
“Do you feel affection for another?”
“I do not,” he replied with a shake of his head. “And you?” After all their talk of Lord Haddon and Henry Simpson, he would feel like an utter fool if she mentioned someone else.
“Of course not. I’ve only just had my come-out,” she replied with a grin.
Luke inhaled and said, “Then let us spend some time in courting and discover what we must of each other.”
Analise nodded and gave him a brilliant smile. “Agreed.”
“And hope your father doesn’t kill me.”
Her gaze once again going to where Parker stood next to the garden of mums, she said in her dramatic voice, “Fear not, for I will defend you, my love.”
Unable to help himself, Luke laughed.
At least he would die a happy man.
Chapter 24
Tea for Three and a Will
The following afternoon
Marcus returned from Parliament to find his daughter waiting for him in the parlor. Another young lady was with her, a shy girl who appeared almost frightened by his appearance on the threshold.
“Miss Fulton, may I introduce you to my father, Lord Lancaster?” Analise said after she had bussed Marcus on the cheek.
Although she seemed glad to see him, Marcus was startled by his daughter’s lack of a smile. Her usual happy countenance wasn’t in evidence.
He bowed and reached for Marguerite’s hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. When she dipped a curtsy, he noted how her gown was cut from fabric of quality, and the shoes that peeked out from beneath her hem were covered in satin.
“It’s very good to meet you, my lord,” Marguerite said with a nod. After a moment, she offered him the document she had been holding in her other hand.
Gripping in her other hand.
From the bruises in the parchment, he could tell she had been holding onto it as if her life depended on it.
Perhaps it did.
Marcus took the document and then a seat directly across from Marguerite. He was heartened when his daughter poured him a cup of tea. The two young ladies had already finished at least a cup of the aromatic brew, and t
he crumbs on their plates suggested they had finished a biscuit or two as well.
“Thank you, my dear,” he murmured as he unfolded the multi-page document. He made an appreciative sound and then, his attention on the will, said, “According to my daughter, your father made arrangements for you and your mother that your brother has since rescinded. Is that what this is about?”
Marguerite’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “It is, my lord. I’ve read the will, and I believe the terms are spelled out quite clearly.”
Having scanned the first few paragraphs of the document, Marcus lifted his gaze to hers. “This was written not long before his death,” he murmured, having noted the date.
“Mother said he knew he was not long for this earth when he met with his solicitor. His physician...” She stopped, swallowing hard at the memory of learning her father was expected to die before she reached her majority. “He told him to see to his affairs.”
Marcus suppressed the urge to wince at the word affairs. Edmund Fulton, Earl of Wadsworth, had apparently engaged in many of them over the years, although, towards the end, he had settled with just the one mistress, presumedly Marguerite’s mother. “Fortuitous he did so,” Marcus murmured, his gaze once again going to the will.
Although he secretly hated Edmund Fulton for having ruined and then married Charity all those years ago, he had to respect the man for having seen to those who relied on him for their livings. “Tell me, do you and your mother have... accommodations?” he asked.
She nodded. “He let a townhouse on our behalf. Saw to a two-year lease even. But the rent is only paid through the end of the month. After that...” She blinked back tears. “My mother thinks she is too old to secure another man’s protection,” she whispered, her eyes darting sideways when she realized she shouldn’t speak of such things with Analise present.
“And funds? Do you have any?” Marcus asked, keeping his voice as businesslike as possible. He didn’t want to be frightening the girl anymore than she already seemed, but he didn’t want to offer sympathy, either. At least, not until he knew the full story.
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