Kiss the Wallflower: Books 1-3

by Gill, Tamara

  Chapter 4

  Mary came downstairs later that evening and found Lord Weston present. She had not expected him to arrive since when she had seen him last Season in Town he’d been less than pleased to greet her. His slight, even if not noticed by the ton had hurt more than she’d been willing to admit even to her parents and she had eventually talked herself into believing that it was all in her mind.

  And so it seemed to be if his animation and pleasure at seeing her again was anything to go by.

  “Lord Weston. Henry,” she said, using his given name, “it is so very good to see you.” She came up to him and laughed when he pulled her into an embrace. Her parents smiled at their familiarity, and didn’t seem inclined to chastise her over their conduct.

  “It is good to see you again too, Mary and Miss Grant as well. I’m sorry I’m late to arrive. I’ve only just returned from London.”

  Mary smiled at his lordship who seemed very happy indeed to be back in Derbyshire and talking to her. For years she’d harbored a little infatuation for his lordship. How could one not be with his golden locks and sinful gaze that made him look like a fallen angel? Mary might be somewhat skewed against marriage, but she was not blind.

  She supposed she had gravitated toward him so often because she’d known him since childhood and deep down knew he’d never look to her as a wife, and so he was a safe option to be amusing with.

  “Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Mama has invited quite a few families from Town so you should feel quite at home.”

  “I’m sure I shall,” he said, smiling down at her.

  Mary’s stomach flipped a little and she had to force herself to glance away from all his grandeur. How handsome he was. His perfect nose and lovely clear blue eyes that set him apart from most men.

  Mary’s gaze slid to the Duke of Carlton’s, surprised to find his eyes narrowed in contemplation as he watched them. She turned her attention back to Lord Weston. The duke was too good-looking for his own good as well, and probably well aware of it.

  The dinner gong sounded and forgoing formalities, her parents led everyone into the dining room. The dinner was five courses of fish and game, turtle soup and winter vegetables. No expense was spared for their guests and Mary would commend their cook on her dinner later that evening. The dinner lasted some hours, all of them enjoyable, full of conversation and laughter. Just as this festive time of year ought to be.

  Mistletoe ran along the center of the table with cuttings of holly to add a little color to the decoration. With the fires burning in every room, their mammoth home was transformed into a wonderland of Yuletide and cheer.

  After dinner Mary sat near the edge of the drawing room, watching those in attendance. She sipped her mulled wine and listened while Louise played a Christmas tune on the pianoforte.

  Her stomach fluttered as Lord Weston made his way toward her, his smile as wicked as ever. She’d known him most of her life, and there was something about him that she’d always been drawn to. Perhaps it was the fact he was in reality unattainable. She was no elegant, ethereal-looking beauty, she was dark of hair, and eyes a plain, unremarkable green. Her skin looked kissed by the sun.

  And he was simply too perfect to ever look at her. They were as opposite as night and day.

  “All alone, Mary? We’re missing your company and so I’ve come to drag you back into the fray.”

  She smiled, inwardly sighing at his beauty. For a moment her gaze slid to his lips, pulled back to show perfectly straight white teeth. He had lovely lips too. In all honesty there wasn’t much about him that wasn’t faultless.

  “A moment’s peace I assure you, but I shall mingle in a little while. We have missed you these past months. Have you enjoyed Town this Season?”

  He leaned back in his chair, sliding his arm to sit along the back of her own and she started when his thumb reached out and circled the bare skin on her shoulder. “I did, but I would prefer a stroll outdoors with you in its stead? I know it’s cold, but I remember that such a thing never bothered you before.”

  Mary jumped up, not sure her heart could take any more of his touch. “I’m not sure that is wise…”

  His lordship stood, mischief in his gaze. “Come, it’s only a stroll. We’re old friends, and have walked outdoors numerous times. No harm will come to you, I promise.”

  Mary glanced at her mother and seeing her nod of approval, relented. “Very well, my lord. Let me grab my shawl.”

  Only minutes later they made their way out onto the terrace which had earlier today been shoveled free of snow. A light dusting covered the flagstones still, and the chill was beyond what she expected. Their outing would be of short duration.

  The glow from the windows lit their way as they strolled slowly along. Mary glanced out into the gardens, not sure what Lord Weston wanted to discuss with her, if anything.

  “We have always been friends, have we not, Mary?”

  He said, pulling her to a stop. Her elbow burned from his touch and her heart thumped loud in her chest. More so than it ever had before.

  “Of course. Why do you ask?” She glanced up at him, a tentative smile on her lips. Was Lord Weston looking to court her? Mary thought over the possibility a moment. He would certainly suit her character and most importantly he was their neighbor here in Derbyshire. She would not have to leave the lands that she’d grown up on. She could remain close to her parents and her brother when he decided to marry.

  She’d not thought of the viscount as an option before, but all night he’d made certain to remain close to her. His lordship knew of her love for the outdoors, for fishing and hunting and was only ever supportive of it. He would not try and change her ways, or make her conform to society…

  His attention snapped to her lips and all thought flew out of her brain.

  “Have you ev–”

  Mary lunged at his head, kissing him before he could finish what he was about to say. Their teeth cracked together and horrified Mary felt blood across her tongue as she slid back to earth. She stepped back, heat suffusing her body at the bumbling fool she’d just been.

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I do not know…”

  He stared at her, his visage one of shock and pity and if the earth could swallow her she hoped it would do so right at this moment.

  He cleared his throat, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his lip that horrifyingly was bleeding. “I think you should return indoors, Mary. I need to ice my lip and will return to the drawing room soon.”

  She nodded, feeling all kinds of stupid. No refined gentleman such as Lord Weston would look at her with anything other than sympathy and she was a fool to think he harbored ideas of them marrying.

  Mary glanced down at her gown of lace and ribbons, absurd bows that were not the least fashionable on anyone over the age of five. “I apologize, Lord Weston. It will not happen again.”

  She ran, heedless of everything about her, and instead of returning to the drawing room, she entered another door further along that opened into a corridor toward the conservatory.

  Mary stifled back a sob as the prickling of tears stung her eyes. Her past five Seasons had been all disasters, and now, after trying to kiss one of her oldest friends she would prefer to die of mortification than have to face him again.

  She rounded a corner that led into the conservatory and clashed straight into a wall of muscle. Strong arms came out about her, but her near run had too much momentum and she took him down, landing with a thump on top of him.

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”

  Mary went to roll off him and heard a rip near her breast. Looking down she spied one of the gentleman’s buttons on his superfine coat was hooked onto one of her lace ribbons.

  “I’m stuck,” she mumbled, placing her legs on either side of him so to free her hands and try and unhook herself from the gentleman. His own hands came around her and he sat up, bringing her with him. She gasped, forgetting the button and ribbon as she glanc
ed up and died a second time that night of mortification.

  “Your grace, I did not know…that is to say,” she fumbled for words. “I do apologize for this.”

  He stared at her with dark hooded eyes, his mouth set in a thin displeased line. He was angry at her. She expected no less after tackling him just now.

  “Here let me.” His fingers joined with hers as they both fumbled to remove the button from the lace. Their heads bent close Mary caught a whiff of his scent, sandalwood and something else, something sweet and delicious that made one want cake.

  The duke mumbled something unintelligible, and unable to help herself she looked at him instead of concentrating on trying to remove herself from his lap. Up close he was as handsome as any she’d seen, even Lord Weston who was pretty where the duke was like a replica of a chiseled god.

  Certainly the duke’s shoulders were wider than Lord Weston’s, and his legs seemed quite muscular between her own. The thought brought awareness as to how they were sitting. She on top of his lap, her skirts hiked up about her waist and a…what was that hard bulge near her inner thigh?

  She gasped and their gazes locked. Mumbling a curse, one she heard as clear as day, the duke ripped them apart, the lace ribbon now an ornament upon his own button before he picked her up and deposited her on the floor beside him.

  He stood, his back to her as he adjusted his clothing. Mary could do little but stare at his back, the view from down on the floor giving her the perfect location to study the duke’s other assets, like his bottom.

  His Grace turned, the muscle in his jaw flexing when he caught her ogling his person. Instead of turning from her in disgust, he reached out a hand to help her up. “In a rush, Lady Mary?”

  All thoughts of Lord Weston fled from her mind after being entwined with the duke, and she gaped at him a moment trying to remember what her flight into the conservatory was about.

  And then she remembered. Her first kiss. Or, perhaps she ought to remember it by the first bloody lip she’d given a gentleman with her own mouth.

  “I apologize again, your grace. I needed to be alone and didn’t expect to find anyone in this part of the house.”

  He studied her, his brow furrowed. “Is something amiss? You look as if you’ve been crying.”

  She swallowed, shame washing over her in spades. Mary looked down at her feet, working her hands before her. “I made a mistake that I cannot take back and now I’ll never be able to face a certain person ever again.” Very well, it may have been a little over-dramatic, but the thought of what she’d done, of how Lord Weston had reacted, it certainly felt as though her life would never be the same. If only she’d not tried to kiss him. What had she been thinking!

  His warm hand clasped her elbow and he led her into the conservatory. “Come and sit. I know we do not know each other well, and maybe that will make it easier to unburden yourself.”

  She sat on the cold marble seat and went to pull her shawl about her arms, only to find it missing. She looked back out into the hall where she had collided with the duke and spied it on the floor.

  “Are you sure you wish to hear about my antics, your grace?” she said, huddling a little into herself, the room chilly in the night air. The duke shuffled off his coat and slipped it about her shoulders. His heat engulfed her, settling about her a notion of calm.

  “Of course I’ll listen to you. Whatever you have to say.”

  Mary bit her lip, reminded of what had happened with Lord Weston. The words spilled from her over what she’d done and how his lordship had reacted. Why she was telling his grace this information she did not know or understand, but his offering to hear her concerns were kindly meant and he was Peter’s friend after all. Peter would never be close with anyone if they did not have his trust. And heaven helped her, she desperately wanted to tell someone about what happened. “Lord Weston looked at me as if I’d grown two heads,” she continued. “I know I’m not as fashionable as other women in Town.” She gestured to her dress and the duke looked her over, pity entering his gray orbs. “I’m opinionated and perhaps a little wild. I ran into you and entangled myself in your buttons. But my parents are adamant I marry, and I worry that I’ll make the wrong choice. I do not wish to be trapped in an unhappy union.” She looked up at him and held his gaze. “Please tell me not all gentlemen are looking for simpering debutantes with no voice.”

  Dale stared at Lady Mary, utterly enthralled by her zest to make men see women, women such as herself more than the fripperies their mamas dressed them up in. To admire women who were educated and opinionated. Dale could admit that he might be a little biased against such features. He could only assume because his mother had been such a woman, and it had always brought out the worst in his father.

  Dale sighed, patting her hand in comfort. “Unfortunately, Lady Mary, men are not always that bright of mind.” He certainly was not. “Having a sister of my own, I’ve come to realize that the female sex is more often than not more calm and thoughtful toward others. Of course you get some degree to all sexes that are not so, and you’re not different.”

  She threw him a cautious smile and he noticed her dark, long eyelashes. Not to mention in the scuffle in the hall, her hair had come loose of some of the pins and cascaded over her delicate shoulders. His gaze shifted lower at he drank in the bountiful breasts that sat hidden beneath the ribbons and lace.

  That he knew what she felt like in his arms also did not help his constitution.

  “How will I ever face him again? I’m mortified.”

  Dale placed his arm about her shoulders, rubbing her arm in comfort. “You will face him like you would anyone. You will raise your chin and think no more of it. We’ve all made mistakes such as the one you made today. Laugh it off and forget about it. It was only a kiss after all.”

  He looked over to a potted rose across from them, but all he could smell was Lady Mary and the sweet scent of jasmine.

  “He’s so very well received in Town. He’ll never speak to me again, he’ll probably laugh at me and call me a silly child who needs to grow up.”

  “Are you?” Dale asked, meeting her gaze when she glanced at him.

  “Am I what?” she asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “A silly chit who needs to grow up?”

  She pulled back a little, clearly affronted. “Of course not!”

  He shrugged. “Well then, you have nothing to worry about.”

  She sighed, her breasts rising at the action. He tore his gaze away, concentrating on the plants about him. “I don’t know how to be fashionable and worldly. I’m simply too rough about the edges to ever change, I believe. I don’t particularly want a husband, but if I do have to marry, Lord Weston does suit my requirements. He’s our neighbor and we’ve known him for years, so he knows me very well. Knows that I’m too set in my ways now to change. You see, your grace,” she said, sitting back. “I like to experience all things. To be well versed in life. We must read, love, laugh and play. Swim, fish, dance and…”

  Dale removed his arm and watched her patiently. “Kiss,” he ventured, inexplicably entranced by her. He watched her, the line of her neck as she glanced up at the glass roof, looking at the stars beyond.

  “And kiss,” she whispered, longing echoing in her voice.

  Her eyes met his and a heady, dark emotion swirled inside Dale. This girl, woman, he should amend was dangerous to men like him. Such little temptresses made them want things they would otherwise steer clear of.

  He sighed, studying her a moment. As much as he disliked Lord Weston, if that was whom Lady Mary thought would suit her temperament and character, who was he to naysay her? “I’ll tell you what, Lady Mary. Do you want me to help you regain your Lord Weston and have him eating out of your hand like a puppy for the remainder of this house party?”

  Her eyes brightened, making her more beautiful than he thought possible. Damn it all to hell he didn’t need to think of her in such a way. He cleared his throat. “I will
give you one piece of advice, and you must follow it. To the letter.” Dale paused, looking down his nose at her. “Are we in agreement.”

  “Oh yes.” She nodded eagerly, which jiggled her breasts in his peripheral vision. Dear Lord in heaven he was in hell.

  “I would suggest you be honest with Lord Weston. If you think he suits you, then let him know that you’re open to courtship. Be flirty, charming, and honest with him. Forget about the kiss, his reaction, all of it. Lift that pretty face of yours and look him in the eyes, be bold and forthright. Talk of more than the weather, discuss what you enjoy, what you love to do, and if he is not a fool, he will fall at your feet. I promise you that.”

  “Is that what you like, your grace?” she asked.

  Dale started at her question before he stood, needing to distance himself. “I respect honesty above everything else.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” she said, standing. “My brother normally has good sense and I see he had the good sense to befriend you. You’re an honorable man.” She held out her gloved hand and he reached for it, bringing it to his lips and bowing over it slightly.

  “Good luck, Lady Mary and may the man who deserves you win.”

  She threw him a dazzling smile, striding to where they had clashed, swooping up her shawl, she glanced back at him one last time before she was gone. He smiled after her, shaking his head in amusement. This country retreat had just become more interesting. Now he could sit back and watch the games unfold. Or at least, the one Lady Mary was playing.

  Chapter 5

  Mary spent the following day adjusting all her gowns. She would not wait until next Season as discussed with her father, she would alter the dresses she wore now to suit her better. Mary tore at lace and ribbons, lowered her necklines and removed any sort of frippery that decorated her dresses. Underneath all the accessories, her dresses were handsome enough and would do before she could order a new wardrobe next Season.