He didn’t move from the base of the ladder. He stood too close for me to wiggle all the way to the ground. His cheeks regained their color now that he was on solid ground again.
I groaned. “Would you move away? I can’t get down.”
He held his hands wide. “I’ll catch you.”
“I’m not going to fall. Just move. I’m not far now.”
He didn’t, so I thrust my rump farther into the air, hoping to make the room I needed as I got down. Instead, he reached around me to my waist, and plucked me from the ladder. I squealed, jerking away from him.
He lifted me easily to the ground and set me on my feet. “See? That was much easier.”
I glared at him, though it was weak.
“You’re still cold. We should hurry inside. With luck, the rest of the clues will be in the manor.”
Anything, as long as it put space between us. The moment was too quiet, too intimate. But that was Lady Dunlop’s design, wasn’t it?
I strode past him, schooling my emotions from my face. For all my practice, today it proved elusive. I shucked off his jacket and held it for him as I reached the stable doors.
“Here, take this back.”
“I couldn’t possibly. You’re still cold.” As he stepped abreast of me, he thrust my hand aside, closer to my body. I hurled the jacket at his face. He caught it and wrestled it down, exposing an expression of annoyance.
“Fine,” he snapped. He donned the jacket with jerky movements. “Freeze, for all I care. And here, I tried to be a gentleman.”
“You’ve already admitted that you’re no gentleman.” My voice dwindled to the faintest rasp. The words recalled the memory of our first racy encounter when he’d undressed in the library. Every contour of his chiseled chest was ingrained upon my memory.
It didn’t help that he stood so close. The gleaming golden buttons of his jacket were undone, and the lapels hung loose to display his taupe waistcoat underneath. A strand of straw leaped out of the seam, in full view. I reached out to remove it, but thought better of it and lowered my hand.
What was I doing? We weren’t familiar. We were barely acquaintances. When we reached the end of this party, we would go our separate ways and never see each other again. Or so I hoped.
Didn’t I?
A stirring enveloped my chest, a strange whirl of emotions. He wasn’t a boor all the time. In fact, sometimes, like when he had offered me his jacket, he acted sweet and thoughtful.
It was hard to reconcile that side of him with the scowling man standing in front of me. In fact, I didn’t want to. Better he remain a black-hearted scoundrel.
As I tried to step past him out the narrow opening into the dreary day outside, he blocked my path. He stepped closer, until we stood chest to chest. “With you, Rose, I doubt any man would be able to maintain a gentleman-like demeanor. You’re quite the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”
He pulled several strands of straw from my hair, one by one. He added low, under his breath, “And the most beautiful.”
My breath caught. I tilted my head toward him. His eyes darkened with intent as he lowered his head to meet mine.
No. Not here. Not ever again. The kisses we’d stolen had been a mistake. I needed to find a suitor, not a distraction. And he wouldn’t do. Not at all.
I recoiled, pushing away from him.
An exasperated look crossed his face. “What do you want from me?”
I gritted my teeth. “I want to be left alone. I want to finish this be-damned hunt so we can part ways.”
His face darkened to match the storm clouds brewing overhead. “If that’s what you want, then go. Hide in your room if you’re afraid to be seen with me.”
My mouth dropped open. I flinched. “I am not afraid of you.”
“No? You seem terribly eager to rid yourself of my presence.”
I stepped closer. The heat of his body burned me. I craned my neck to meet his gaze. “Maybe I don’t care about winning. I don’t have to be the best at everything.”
“No, you’re handed that title without having to work for it.”
From the venom in his voice, I couldn’t tell whether he insulted me or praised me. I clenched my fists. “Fine. Let’s play this stupid hunt. Where’s the next clue?”
His expression turned guarded, but the vehemence in his gaze dimmed somewhat. He stepped away, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. Paper crunched as he smooshed the envelopes hidden in there. “Forget about it. Enjoy your afternoon of freedom. I’ll take the blame for our lack of participation.”
He loathed losing. Why would he forfeit?
I swallowed as he stalked off into the open air, his demeanor and stance stiff. Had I made a mistake in turning him away? Without any other explanation, I’d assumed I’d posed a challenge, an annoyance to break with heated kisses and scorching embraces. If I was wrong… Could he have genuine feelings for me?
My chest tightened with emotions too raw to name. I didn’t know what to think anymore.
I purged the dilemma from my mind. Whether he liked me or not, it didn’t matter. He was engaged, or so he wanted me to believe. And if I didn’t find a suitor of my own to choose from by the end of the week, I would be, too—to a man I’d already turned down.
Chapter Fifteen
An invisible vine looped around my chest, its thorns digging deeper as I entered the manor. I thrust my shoulders back, keeping my head high. From the cacophony of muffled footsteps and chatter emanating from farther in the house, I wasn’t the only person to seek sanctuary indoors. Would I be able to sneak up to my room unnoticed?
The prospect of spending another afternoon alone didn’t appeal to me at all. Perhaps I ought to seek out Daisy. I was supposed to be her chaperone, after all.
Instead of mounting the staircase to the left, I meandered down the hall. Doors branched off, most of the rooms unoccupied. When I neared the back of the manor, outraged murmurs met my ears. I followed them to the library. Was Daisy in trouble?
I found two young debutantes and a gentleman huddled over a newspaper in the library. The fire chuckled merrily in the hearth behind the desk. I stepped into the room, scanning the shadows between the bookshelves in case Daisy lingered there over a scavenger hunt clue. The aisles between the shelves were empty.
“Look who’s deigned to join the party.”
The venom in the young woman’s voice sliced through me. I turned, meeting the brunette debutante eye to eye. Her cheeks were flushed with color. Her gaze sparkled with outrage. She slapped the newspaper onto the desk. The sound echoed.
The other debutante, a shy little mouse who didn’t meet my gaze, brushed ineffectually at the brunette’s arm. She didn’t appear to notice.
“Why are you here, Miss Wellesley?”
Heat pricked my cheeks at her hostile tone. The thorns around my torso dug deeper. I struggled to breathe.
I drew myself up. I refused to show that her tone cut. “I’m looking for my sister. Clearly, she isn’t in this room. Good day.” I congratulated myself on the evenness of my tone. She might want to be spiteful, but I didn’t have to retaliate.
When I turned on my heel, she stepped into my path.
“No. I mean, why did you attend this party? You’re already engaged. You don’t belong here.”
Anger stirred in my breast, like leaves rustled by the wind. Slow to move at first, though it soon gained momentum. “I am not engaged.” What lie had Warren spread? Surely he wouldn’t bandy it about that we were betrothed.
“Don’t lie.” The woman sneered. She pointed to the newspaper, folded into one long, narrow column.
Heat and ice warred in my limbs. I took a step toward the desk, then another. The young gentleman snatched up the newspaper and held it out to me. I gritted my teeth, trying to hide the tremble in my hands as I accepted.
It was the announcements section. There, the second on the page.
Miss Wellesley celebrates her engagement to—
&n
bsp; The rest was smeared beyond recognition from dried splotches of rain. No. It has to be a…a cousin. Not me.
The folded sheet shook. My thumb left a permanent mark in the paper, marring its smooth contour. An ache bloomed in my chest, growing stronger. Belatedly, I remembered to breathe.
“That’s not me. It can’t be.” My voice was small, as if I heard myself speak from a great distance. My ears rang, nearly drowning out the sound.
When I glanced up, the brunette speared me beneath her glare.
“Don’t play innocent. That newspaper is from Friday, the day we arrived. You’ve been engaged this entire time.”
She advanced on me with a malicious glint in her eye. Instinctively, I stepped back. The newspaper rustled as I crumpled it. She jabbed her finger through the air toward my chest, like she wished it was a bullet.
“It isn’t fair for you to monopolize Lord Hartfell’s affections. Stop toying with him and let someone else have a chance to catch his eye.”
Behind her, the mousy debutante turned as red as the flowers embroidered on her bodice. When she turned her head away, showing me her profile, I recognized her for Warren’s dinner partner on more than one occasion.
I turned back to her companion. “I lay no claim on Lord Hartfell. She can have him, for all I care.” I stormed from the room.
If I didn’t care, why couldn’t I breathe properly? It’s the fault of the announcement. I couldn’t purge those six words from my mind.
Miss Wellesley is not engaged.
The thought brought me no solace. Tears spilled onto my cheeks. I brushed them away with a hasty swipe of my hand. It couldn’t be true. But no matter how many times I consoled myself with the fact that the announcement must name one of my cousins, I couldn’t rid myself of the heavy weight on my lungs.
In that state, I stumbled into Francine and Mary, their hands bulging with clues from the scavenger hunt. Mary took one look at my face and passed off her items into Francine’s care. She straightened her shoulders, her lips thinning. “What did that lobcock do to you?”
I didn’t have any words to offer her. I thrust out the announcement instead. Francine peered over Mary’s shoulder. A furrow formed between Francine’s eyebrows. “You’re engaged? To who?”
Mary’s gaze, when she raised it, was murderous. “Look at her, Francine. She didn’t know.”
The next few minutes blurred together. Mary threaded her arm through mine and towed me through the manor, expertly making use of the emptiest passages until we reached her room unseen. She sat me on the bed and disappeared, leaving Francine to muddle out which clues they had found and which they still had to puzzle out. I counted ten items as she arranged her pile neatly on the writing desk. She was only two short.
“Forgive me.” My voice was hoarse. “I didn’t mean to bother you. You should finish the hunt.”
When she turned, her expression was fierce. “You think I care a whit about whatever prize Aunt Louise has arranged? For shame. You’re much more important to me, Rose.”
She sat next to me and squeezed my hand. The fog in my chest dissipated somewhat. I bent to lean my head on her shoulder. Stray wisps from her hair tickled my forehead.
After a moment, she whispered, “I’ve never been in love.”
I processed her words, soaking them in before I answered. “I know.” Though I’d often suspected otherwise, given the enthusiasm with which she received letters from her friend Julian.
She sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do if Papa forced me to marry. I want someone to accept me for who I am. Is that love?”
“I don’t know.” For all that I’d fallen in and out of love dozens of times over the years, I’d never shown a man who I was, at heart. It was all an act. Act poised, act serene, act the lady. It hadn’t earned me a husband yet, had it?
You’ve shown Warren. I silenced that small voice.
“Will you go through with it?”
The question cut me to the quick. “I can’t. I want love. If Papa accepted one of my outstanding offers…I don’t love them.” Not anymore. And never once had I fallen in love with a man again once I’d stopped.
“My parents had an arranged marriage. You might still fall in love.”
Might wasn’t good enough for me.
I was spared the need to answer as the door opened and Mary returned juggling a tray. “I brought tea. I wanted cookies or seed cake to go with it, but the cook didn’t have any to give me. I brought rolls instead. They’re hot from the oven.”
She set the tray down on the vanity and overturned three cups. She filled and offered one to me and Francine, along with a steaming bun. The outer edges were golden, but the inside was fluffy. It tasted heavenly.
“Thank you, Mary.”
She took a seat on the stool in front of the vanity and cradled the cup between her hands. Her eyes glinted. “Now. What’s this rubbish about you being engaged? Your father can’t force you to marry against your will. Why send you to a party notorious for its love matches if you are already off the market?”
“We accepted the invitation months ago.” The more I dwelled on her words, the more they rang true. “It might not be me. Most of that announcement is obscured. It might reference one of my cousins.” My voice gained confidence with every word. It had to be true. I couldn’t be engaged.
Mary leaned her elbows on her knees. “It might be, but if the announcement is for you, we should have a plan in place to rectify the situation. The last thing I’ll stand by and watch is you forced into something you don’t want. There is always another option. Your happiness is paramount.”
When Mary spoke like that, I believed she could move the world. I sat straighter. “What do you propose?”
“Let’s try the obvious first. We’ll find you someone at the party. You’ve been spending some time with Hartfell. How do you feel about him?”
His name conjured a dizzying wave of emotions, from the lust he stirred with his touch to the anger he provoked with his stubbornness. I shook my head. “Not him.”
Mary frowned, her eyebrows knitting together as she tilted her head to one side. She looked as if she was about to say something, but thought the better of it. Instead, she shrugged. “Not him, then. We still have five days at this party. Plenty of time for you to get to know the gentlemen invited.”
Setting her tea aside, she reached forward and wrangled my tea cup away in order to clasp my free hand. “One way or another, Rose, you will be in love by the end of this party.”
I fervently hoped so.
Chapter Sixteen
The magic Emily wrought on my hair and dress was wasted on this party. For all that it was supposedly the annual Week of Love, not a single man caught my eye. Seated at Lady Dunlop’s side with Mary for my dinner partner again, I had plenty of time to survey the prospects.
A title meant not a whit to me. It was the man inside I cared for. A romantic, charming man who loved me with a fierceness I matched. Not a hulking barbarian who didn’t believe in love.
And who didn’t stop staring at me throughout the entire meal. With the chatter Mary kept up, I tried to ignore him, but every time I glanced down the table, his face was turned toward me. With the shadows and the distance, his expression was indecipherable. I breathed a sigh of relief when the dinner concluded and Lady Dunlop led us down the corridor—this time, to a different sitting room.
We crammed into the room, decorated with so many flowers it resembled Francine’s greenhouse. The room didn’t offer enough places for the gentlemen and ladies to sit, so we stood in clusters while the chaperones claimed the seats of honor. Mary, Francine, Daisy, and Arthur stood in a close knot to my right.
Waiting to one side of the room for the mumblings to settle, Lady Dunlop drank in the attention of her guests. She fluffed her hair and let the silence drag on. Finally, she announced, “Our next game will be Magic Music, but there will be a twist.”
“Of course there will be,” Warren muttered under his bre
ath.
I jumped. He stood at my elbow. When had he managed to insinuate himself there?
Although he spoke too low for Lady Dunlop to decipher his words, she pinpointed his grumble. She grinned at him. “Thank you for volunteering, Lord Hartfell.”
Several other gentlemen sniggered. I covered my mouth with a hand to hide my smile. He had brought that one on himself.
Lady Dunlop sat at the pianoforte. Finally, the switch of sitting rooms made sense. She needed music to play the game. She stretched her fingers and caressed the keys.
“Instead of finding or moving an object,” Lady Dunlop announced, “Lord Hartfell will move around the room searching for the young lady he will kiss.”
Her gaze lingered on me. Oh no. Did she hold it against me that Warren and I hadn’t finished the scavenger hunt?
In a cheerful voice, the hostess explained, “The same rules of Magic Music apply here. When the music is loud, you are nowhere near your target. When it is soft, you grow close. When I stop playing, you have found her. Are we clear?”
Her eyes snapped, daring anyone to argue with the propriety of the game. At least she didn’t specify where the kiss would be. The hand or the cheek would do nicely.
Beaufort, a reprobate, chuckled. “Can I volunteer for the next round?”
“Of course.”
His smile slipped. I giggled. No doubt he’d expected a denial. He resumed his debonair air of carelessness. For the first time, I wondered if it was an act.
“Move to the door please, Lord Hartfell,” Lady Dunlop requested. “As soon as you do, we will begin.”
The moment Warren separated from my side, I shifted closer to Francine and Mary. Mary wore a glower on her face, daring Lady Dunlop to choose her as the culprit for the kiss. I almost wished she would. It would make for some exhilarating entertainment. Especially if Warren were the man destined to try to kiss her. Mary might try to punch the poor man in the mouth.
If he were shorter, she would do more than try. She would succeed.
Francine nibbled on her lower lip. Her dimples winked into existence. “Is this quite proper?” she asked me. “I don’t have any frame of reference. I mean, we’re chaperoned.”
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 17