She laughed in a tinny tone. “Oh, Your Grace, only Miss Drake would wish to hear about such a thing at a ball.”
“Miss Drake and I enjoy discussions on subjects other than the weather and gossip, even at balls.”
She blanched before recovering quickly. “Then perhaps you should like to call on me tomorrow, and we shall discuss any topic you prefer.”
Any topic he preferred? Louisa usually broached a subject of interest to them both. He had the feeling that Miss Turnbull was no bluestocking. But, could he settle for such a lady? And one from trade?
“Your Grace?” she asked expectantly.
“Of course.” His lack of attention had now forced him to call on the chit tomorrow.
Harry left her with her proud parents, who gushed over him. Seeing Blakely, he threaded through the crowd until he reached the viscount.
“Worthington, how are you?” Blakely asked.
“Very well, but I was wondering if you had a moment to speak in private.”
Blakely’s brows furrowed in question. “Of course.”
“Come out to the gardens.”
They walked toward the back of the gardens where others hadn’t reached yet. The crescent moon did little to light the way. Blakely pulled out a cheroot and offered him one, which Harry declined.
Harry wondered the best way to approach the question without blurting it out impolitely. “How have you been?”
Blakely blew out the smoke and laughed. “I have been well.”
“Excellent.” There was nothing else to talk about with the man, except one topic. “May I ask a delicate question?”
“If you must,” Blakely replied with a slight frown.
“I know at one point you had asked for Miss Drake’s hand.” He paused for a moment having second thoughts. But this was the right thing to do. He knew far more about Blakely than Collingwood. “Well, she is a fine lady and a dear friend. I was wondering if you would ever reconsider.”
“Reconsider? Your Grace, she rejected me.”
“Yes, but I believe she regrets that decision and would be receptive to a courtship now.” At least, Harry hoped she would. Blakely might bore her with horses, but he would be an excellent husband, loyal and stable, and she deserved that, and so much more.
Blakely shook his head. “After having time to consider things, I do believe Miss Drake made a sensible conclusion. We would not have suited. She’s a bit high-spirited for me.”
“High-spirited?”
“You know, always speaking her mind about things. And a bit of a bluestocking, if you ask me.”
“Of course, she is knowledgeable,” Harry replied slowly. Blakely’s description of Louisa was precisely what made her so unique amongst the ladies of quality. Perhaps the viscount, like so many gentlemen, didn’t wish to marry a woman who might be a partner instead of an ornament.
“And in truth, I find my heart has completely recovered from that chapter and moved on to another.”
“Oh, I apologize then.”
Blakely nodded with a smile. “I should return to the ballroom.”
“Good luck with your new lady.” The smell of the cheroot remained as Blakely strolled away.
“How could you!”
Harry cringed at the angry tone of Louisa’s voice from the other side of the hedge. She was never meant to hear what Blakely had said about her. Before he could apologize for the viscount’s comments, she strode down the path. Following behind her, he whispered just loud enough that she might hear, “Slow down.”
Ignoring him, she continued until she tripped over something, landing on the grass with a muttered curse. Harry swiftly assisted her to a bench.
“Are you hurt?”
She yanked her elbow out of his grip. “Hurt? Of course, I am hurt. How could you think for one moment that I would reconsider Blakely?”
Harry sighed. “I meant, physically.”
“No.” She glanced down at her grass-stained skirt with a sigh.
“I am sorry you had to hear what he said about you. I deliberately removed him to the back of the gardens so that no one would overhear.”
“You think I am hurt by what he said?” The acid in her voice contradicted the sadness in her blue eyes.
Confused by her tone, he said, “Of course.”
She stayed silent for a moment either to gather her thoughts or her wounded feelings. “What Blakely said about me is nothing but the truth. And nothing I am ashamed of or would ever change. He was correct. We would have been a dreadful match. What I am offended by is your lack of sense on the matter.”
“My lack of sense?”
“I told you in December why I did not marry him.”
His anger slowly burned. “I am doing my best to find you a gentleman of good standing. You didn’t seem terribly excited about Collingwood, and in my opinion, Blakely is a far better man. Higher standing in Society and far wealthier.”
She rose from the bench and walked toward the brick wall separating the Marchtons’ gardens from another family of lesser consequence. “I suppose you are right,” she whispered. “I should settle for any man who will take me at this point in my life.”
“Louisa, you are far from desperate.” Guilt flooded him. How was he supposed to find her a husband when she was everything he’d wanted in a wife but now could not have?
“Am I not? Look at me,” she demanded. “I have grass stains on my gown, and my hair is falling from its coiffure. What man would want me?”
He shouldn’t have looked over at her. Seeing her in such disarray made his heart pound. Her ivory gown did indeed have a rather large stain near her right knee, her hair had once again started to fall out of its upswept style, and all he wanted to do was kiss her.
No!
Kissing her was out of the question.
And yet, his legs seemed to have a mind of their own, forcing him to walk closer to her. He tipped her chin up with his thumb. Her pink lips gaped slightly.
“There are many men who would want you, Louisa Drake.” He lowered his lips to hers for a gentle kiss before whispering, “Far too many men.”
He kissed her again, harder this time. As she slowly responded, her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her slim frame against him. He backed her against the brick wall until she was caught between him and the wall. This was what he wanted, no matter how much his conscience railed against it.
The injustice of his plight troubled his mind night and day. The one woman he wanted more than any other was the one he could not have. What he did in India was unforgivable. But kissing Louisa made him want to believe in miracles. She could forgive him. She could love him.
With a groan, she pressed her hands to his chest to push him away. Harry stared down at her and realized his fantasy would never become a reality. The sadness in her eyes was now replaced with sparkling anger.
LOUISA STARED UP AT Harry in confusion. How could she be hurt and angry with him one moment and then kissing him madly the next? She needed some distance from him. But she also required some assistance. She couldn’t return to the ball with grass stains, her hair mussed, and her lips swollen from passionate kisses.
“I would be obliged if you could ask my sister to call for the carriage. I will meet her at the front of the house.”
“I will escort you home,” he replied. “It is my fault you are in this condition.”
“No, please ask Emma.”
He nodded. “How will you get to the front of the house?”
“There is a small walkway between the houses with a gate. I shall come around that way.”
“As you wish.”
As he walked away, Louisa touched her lips in wonder. He’d kissed her again. This kiss more passionate than the last. For a moment, she’d wondered if jealousy over her desire for a husband had caused his reaction. But her senses returned, and she understood Harry most likely was trying to keep her quiet so that no one would hear them.
With a quick look down the path, she
headed for the front of the house through the small alleyway that the servants used. She waited in the darkness of the alley for her sister and their coach. Hopefully, Emma would be able to steal away without drawing Mamma’s attention. Hearing the low rumble of a coach, she glanced around the corner of the house. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment noticing the fine black landeau slow to a stop. A fat drop of rain hit her head, followed by another as she waited. If Emma didn’t hurry, Louisa would be soaked.
“Come along, Louisa,” Harry said with an umbrella over his head as the rain increased. “Hopefully, the umbrella will shield you not only from the rain but the overly observant eyes of the gossips.”
“I asked you to get my sister.” Louisa scrambled into the carriage quickly followed by Harry, who then pulled the curtains over the large windows.
“She was dancing with her fiancé,” he replied, taking the seat next to her. “I did jot a message for her and left it with her friend, Miss Lancaster.”
“Oh, what a dreadful mess I’ve made. Mamma will be furious that I left the ball without dancing.”
A long silence filled the carriage as they headed home. Louisa wondered if Harry regretted that kiss in the gardens.
Finally, he spoke, “I must apologize for my actions this evening. I should never have asked Blakely to reconsider you without consulting you first.”
Louisa noted that he had not apologized for kissing her. “Thank you. How did you find Miss Turnbull?”
“Pleasant enough, I suppose.”
She’d convinced herself the issue of her family in trade would be an impediment, which is why she introduced them. It kept up her part of their deal without him realizing every woman she presented him to was not what he was looking for in a wife.
“That is hardly a ringing endorsement of the lady. What was wrong with this one? She was as close to everything as you had requested. Of course, you must wait to see how she would do with Charlotte, but I think she has a kind heart.”
“Hardly everything I wanted, Louisa,” he grumbled.
“What do you mean? She has height, intelligence, dark hair, a friendly demeanor, not the best of families, but they are generally accepted. She even attended Miss Simmons School for Young Ladies, which I hear is very exclusive. I believe your sister attended the same school.”
“That is certainly not all that I asked for in a wife.” He shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable with the conversation, his leg bumping into hers.
“You wrote she must be beautiful, of superior intelligence, taller than the average female, preferably darker hair, she must love children, have a kind heart for Charlotte and preferably one who doesn’t giggle.”
He chuckled. “I asked for more than that.”
“That is what you wrote to me.”
“That’s impossible,” he replied in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because that is...” his voice trailed off in the darkness of the carriage.
“Is...?”
“Nothing.”
The carriage stopped in front of her mother’s home. Harry opened the door and held out his hand to help her down. Even with gloves on their hands, a shock raced up her arms, thrilling her with the sensation. She could only hope he had felt the same.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsy as Davis opened the door with a frown.
“Good evening, Miss Drake,” Harry said with a nod.
“Miss Drake, where is your mother?” Davis asked, closing the door behind them.
“I took a fall in the garden, and the duke escorted me home. Emma and Mamma decided to remain rather than leave early.”
And tomorrow she would, no doubt, face the wrath of her mother.
AS THE CARRIAGE ROLLED away from Louisa’s home, Harry pressed his hands to his temples. The shock of Louisa’s description of what he wanted in a wife wouldn’t leave his mind. He could not have written that to her. Not to Louisa.
Damnation!
What if she had grasped what he hadn’t even realized until she spoke the words?
His list described her.
She was exactly what he wanted physically and mentally. He’d never stopped loving her, but he could not have her now. The only solution was to find her a gentleman straightaway.
And he must stop kissing her.
Perhaps he should offer to increase her dowry to attract more suitors, but her mother would never allow that because of how it would look to the gossips. There was Collingwood, but something niggled Harry with regards to the viscount. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he had to find someone else for her.
The other solution was simple. Harry must marry someone quickly and return to Northwood Park to forget Louisa. Mary Gardiner wasn’t such a poor choice. She’d proven her ability to have children. That was something. He hadn’t entirely determined her intelligence yet. While she’d participated in their conversation, he had noticed how her gaze roamed the room while they spoke.
Until he’d met Louisa, he resisted the notion of a bluestocking, but now it would be an asset for a duchess. It would help ensure his children’s minds were engaged. The world was changing, while slowly up to now, he felt there were enormous inventions on the horizon that would change the world forever. He and Louisa had discussed how these changes might impact the future of the aristocracy. His children would need the sense to look at options other than farming to retain the duchy.
Miss Turnbull might be that woman, but until he spoke with her more, he would never know. His stomach unexpectedly roiled in protest. None of the ladies Louisa had introduced him to made him think about marriage. Nor did Mary Gardiner enflame his senses like Louisa. No one had ever affected him as she had. But he could not marry Louisa Drake.
Chapter 14
LOUISA WANTED TO SKIP the poetry reading tonight but knew her mother would be furious if she did not attend. With her advanced age, it was anticipated Louisa would attend every event possible. Harry would likely be there, expecting her to have someone else to introduce him to, but she needed to find a lady who wouldn’t make him think she was deliberately making a blunder of their pact.
She also needed to discover what he thought of Miss Turnbull. There was a rumor circulating that he paid a call on her yesterday. Whilst Miss Turnbull might not wish to display her intelligence at a ball, with a caller in the privacy of her home, she could be more open.
Harry enjoyed intellectual ladies, and she might be what he wanted in a wife. Louisa prayed she hadn’t overplayed her hand. Hopefully, the issue of Miss Turnbull’s parents in trade would keep him from thinking of her as an acceptable lady.
“Come along, Louisa. We must leave now,” Emma said before staring at her in an assessing manner. “Are you well?”
“Well enough, I suppose.” Louisa sighed before picking up her shawl and then followed her sister to the hall. Thankfully, the incident with her leaving the Marchtons’ ball blew over quickly when Emma told Mamma that Louisa had departed the ball to return home because she was ill. Louisa smiled thinking about what a little schemer her younger sister had become.
“Will Bolton be in attendance tonight?”
“Yes,” her sister replied with a sigh. “I do wish he and his mother would decide on a date. The anticipation is driving me mad. People keep asking me when the wedding will take place. I feel like a fool saying we haven’t set a date yet.”
She hoped her sister realized just how much of a hold Lady Bolton had over her son. Louisa feared it might cause issues with their marriage. “Emma, have you asked Bolton about the date when you have been away from his mother?”
“We are seldom away from his mother. She seems to be everywhere we go.”
“Perhaps you should mention that to him while dancing,” Louisa murmured as they entered the carriage.
“I will, at the next ball.”
Thankfully Mamma decided she had a headache tonight. Or as Louisa knew, her mother had an assignation with Lord Hammond while the
y were out. She had explicitly told Louisa not to return before ten.
Upon arriving at the Gringhams’ home, Collingwood found her immediately. “Good evening, Miss Drake.”
“Good evening, my lord.”
He insisted on finding them seats for the reading. Louisa glanced around the room. What the devil was Harry doing standing next to Mary Gardiner? Louisa looked away from him as she pressed a hand to her aching belly. They appeared to be involved in a serious discussion. The sight of them standing so close was like a knife twisting in her stomach.
“Miss Drake, would you like some lemonade?” Collingwood asked as if eager to please her.
“A glass of wine would be lovely.”
“Wine?”
“Yes, wine,” she replied, trying not to show irritation at his questioning her choice of drink. Collingwood wandered off to the refreshment table.
“He looked quite taken aback by your request,” Emma said with a small laugh. “You’d best let him know how you do like your wine...and brandy...and port.”
“Hush. Oh, look here comes Bolton...with his mother, of course.”
“I had hoped that for just one night we might be alone without her chaperoning her son.”
“Oh, but you are one of those Daring Drake sisters who might influence her son in some immoral manner,” Louisa said with a smirk.
Emma chuckled. “Perhaps you and Tessa are daring, but I decided long ago to not follow in your footsteps. I have every intention of gaining a husband and a title in only the most proper of ways.”
Louisa stepped away as Lady Bolton approached, not wanting the dowager to find any fault with Emma due to her. Glancing over at Harry, she hated to admit how jealousy had overcome her seeing Mrs. Gardiner and Harry together here and at the menagerie. It was illogical. Mary, while a widow, was not Harry’s type. Before marrying, she had been the classic young miss out for a rich husband with no cares, except which new gown to wear. But watching Harry chuckle at something Mary said, made Louisa’s heart twist in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He seemed taken with Mary in a way Louisa hadn’t seen with any other woman.
A Deal with a Duke (The Daring Drake Sisters, #2) Page 16
