He sat back with a furrowed brow. Perhaps that was the problem. Hadn’t Bethany been dropping hints all along that she would prefer a man like Garrison Wylde to woo her—someone dangerous, unpredictable, and magnetic? In short, she desired someone who was the exact opposite of well-bred, educated, mannerly Nicholas Masters.
“Some women like their men a trifle devilish,” he murmured. “Coincidentally, that’s one of my better qualities.” He bent to work.
When Bethany joined him, he gestured toward the bar cart. “Will you join me in a brandy?”
“Why…yes, thank you.”
As he poured the drinks, she examined his newest illustration. “This is perfect. I don’t even have to describe things to you anymore. You just get it right the first time.”
“We work well together.” He gave her a snifter. “Pity it’s our last one.”
“For now. I have another idea for a story. Once it’s finished, you can illustrate it for me.”
“Perhaps.” He took a sip of brandy. “I’m going out tomorrow, to look at art studios in West End. If I can find a satisfactory space, I expect I’ll spend a great deal of time there going forward.”
“Oh.” Bethany’s gaze lowered to her glass.
“Now that you’ve dismissed Masters, have you any other marital prospects?”
Her blue eyes widened. “Nobody serious. Mr. Halliwell seemed eager to see me again earlier this summer, but I put him off.”
He frowned. “Tell me about him.”
“Mr. Halliwell is very nice and earnest.” She shrugged. “He’s quite likable.”
“Nice, earnest, and likable?” Will grimaced. “You’re moving in the wrong direction entirely.” He took another sip.
“It can’t be helped. I must circulate in society if I’m to cultivate another suitor and I doubt the remainder of this Season will produce a satisfactory candidate.”
“I’m not so sure.” He perched on the stool behind his drafting table. “The thing is, if you don’t have a fiancé by the end of the Season, I’ll be obliged to marry you myself.”
For a moment, he feared she would drop her glass.
“Obliged?” Bethany bristled. “You make marriage to me sound like a duty.”
“Indeed it would be. You said yourself that Jane needs me.” He shrugged. “You will sacrifice a bit of social standing, I’m afraid, but no worse than at present. Call it an accommodation between us, if you like.”
She stiffened. “How dare you!”
Will knew an invitation when he heard one. “How dare I?” As he put down his glass and moved toward Bethany, he gave the delightful pink ribbons on her low, square-necked bodice a meaningful glance. “I’ll happily show you exactly what I dare.”
She slid him a glance of disbelief as she backed away. “You’re bluffing.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I never bluff.”
Bethany put her snifter down on a low table and darted around the back of a wing chair.
“Stop this right now, Mr. Winter.”
“We’re back to being formal with one another?” Will pouted. “I thought you weren’t afraid of me.”
“I’m not, but I know what you are doing. You’re trying to bully me into marrying someone I don’t love.”
“If you are referring to me, I’m quite capable of making our marriage exceedingly entertaining. Love is optional.”
She lifted her chin. “Now you’re being vulgar.”
“I should hope so. Come out from behind the chair, Bethany.” He nodded toward her glass. “Finish your brandy and waltz with me.”
“No. If I come anywhere near you, you’ll take liberties.”
“I would never take liberties unless they are freely offered.” He chuckled. “But you cannot stop me from thinking about them.”
“Gah! You’re in a strange mood tonight.” Bethany’s color was high as she came out from behind the chair. “I’ll take my brandy upstairs.”
To his disappointment, she retrieved her glass and moved toward the door. Evidently, he’d misjudged the situation once again.
“Good night, then,” he murmured with a frown. “Sleep well.”
She whirled around. “What do you mean by that?”
His eyebrows rose. “I am merely wishing you a sweet slumber.”
“Fine.” Bethany drained her brandy. “One waltz and then I’m going upstairs. Otherwise, you’ll think you’ve won.”
In that moment, he knew he already had. His manner grew sober as he took the glass from her hands and drew her into a proper dance hold. As they waltzed slowly around the library together, he became lost in the clear blue magic of her eyes. Twice, they traveled the circumference of the room and finally ended up in the center of the oriental rug. Will released Bethany, sketched a deep bow, and then pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
“Thank you for the dance, Bethany.”
Several expressions on her countenance seemed to be warring with one another. “I refuse to be an obligation.”
Will pulled her into his embrace. “Does it seem as if I’m merely going through the motions?” His gaze flickered toward her lips. “You must know I’m in love with you.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Am I?”
He traced the curves of her neck and décolleté with his mouth, working his way upward. As he pressed passionate kisses on her cheeks and forehead, Bethany closed her eyes and arched toward him. He whispered her name as her hands roamed the muscles of his back, reveling in the soft moan she made deep in her throat. Although she lifted her face toward his for a kiss, his mouth hovered at a tantalizing distance.
“Miss Bethany Christensen, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her eyes opened and her lips curved into a soft, inviting smile. “Mr. Willoughby Winter, I shan’t answer you right now.”
The shock of her reply made him release her. “What?”
She glanced up at him through her lashes. “After all your talk of obligations and accommodations, did you think I would make it easy, particularly when you stand to gain a great deal by seeing me married?”
Will stood with his arms akimbo. “You wicked minx! I’ve been quite honest with my feelings and you step on them as if they were nothing?”
She giggled. “Good night, Mr. Winter. Sleep well…if you can.” She winked.
Bethany turned and left the library, affording him a last look at her pert bustle. After she disappeared, he stared after her in admiration.
“Fine, then.” He chuckled. “The game is afoot.”
∞∞∞
As Bethany prepared for bed, she was still reeling at her audacity—and inner strength. Although she would have liked nothing better than to accept Will’s proposal and remain in his arms until dawn, she had to be sure he truly cared for her. He’d spoken of love, but didn’t all men say as much in pursuit of a lady? His talk of obligation had been merely to twit her, she suspected, but he deserved a bit of punishment as a result. Besides which, was the prize not worth a little more effort? Just because they resided under the same roof did not mean he should take her affections for granted.
As she slid between the sheets, she giggled at the memory of his caresses. Surely Nick’s polite affections could never have weakened her knees or her resolve as effectively! The fire in Will’s gaze tonight and his heavy-lidded glances had awakened true passion within her, but she was no naive fool. Let him woo her properly before she gave him an answer.
Before she nodded off, she threw back the covers and hastened over to turn the key in the lock. This time, however, it was not so much to keep Will out but to buttress her convictions. Although she reveled in her newfound passion, she would not give into it until after vows were exchanged properly—however sorely she was tempted.
Chapter Seventeen
To Woo
Will glanced at Mr. Pace as he helped him remove his jacket. “How does a gentleman go about wooing a lady?”
The valet’s eyebr
ows lifted. “Well, I can’t speak from personal experience of course, but I understand romantic letters are required.”
“Blast.” Will held out his arms so Mr. Pace could remove his cufflinks. “What else?”
“Well, er, perhaps flowers, although that can be tricky. There’s a code to these things.”
Will gaped. “A code, you say?”
“Yes, different flowers have different meanings.”
“How in blazes is a fellow supposed to know that?”
“There are books that deal with the secret language of flowers.” Mr. Pace chuckled. “You can’t go wrong with red roses, if your feelings are of a passionate nature. Whatever you do, however, avoid yellow. Yellow roses mean friendship and yellow carnations indicate disdain.”
Will shuddered. “An ignorant, lovesick swain gives his fair maiden a bouquet of flowers, only to discover he has committed a mortal sin?”
“More than one romance has been derailed by such a dreadful misstep.”
Mr. Pace helped Will disrobe and then brought him his nightshirt and wrapper.
Will tied his sash with a snap. “Flower sellers pass by Summerland every morning, don’t they, Mr. Pace?”
“Indeed, they do.”
Will crossed over to his dresser to retrieve a few coins out of a leather purse. “When you go downstairs, will you ask one of the footmen to dash out early tomorrow and fetch an armful of red roses for me?” He dropped the coins in Mr. Pace’s hand. “Actually two armfuls. I need to make a rather large gesture, I think. Oh, and some sort of nosegay.”
“Would you like the flowers brought to your room?”
“No, no, of course not. One rose should be put at Miss Christensen’s place at the breakfast table, the nosegay is for Miss Jane, and the remaining roses should be arranged in bouquets and brought to Miss Christensen’s room, with my compliments.”
The valet peered at him. “Do you know what you’re doing, sir?”
“Do I act as if I don’t know what I’m doing?” Will held up his hand. “Don’t answer that.”
“It’s just that—”
“Mr. Pace, I’m in desperate need of help. Perhaps you could find me a few lines of romantic poetry I might copy out for a letter or whisper at the proper moment? I’m out of my element on this, but I don’t think, ‘Rowley Powley, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry’ is quite suitable.”
“Poetry?” The man’s tone was strained. “Yes, sir.”
Will slapped him on his arm. “Come on, Mr. Pace, I know you’re up to the task. You might even get the notion of wooing some lady yourself.”
The man groaned.
Will gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s the spirit.”
∞∞∞
Bethany woke up in the morning to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She jumped out of bed, turned the key in the lock, and was greeted by Minerva and another maid in the hallway, carrying vases full of long-stemmed red roses.
“Oh, how lovely!” Bethany stepped aside to let the maids pass.
“It seems you have an admirer, Miss Christensen,” Minerva said.
Bethany bit back a smile. “I can’t think who.”
The second maid blurted, “They are from Mr. Winter, of course.”
Bethany exchanged a glance with Minerva. “How terribly kind of him.”
She noticed a folded piece of paper by the threshold, just then, as if someone had slid a note under her door in the middle of the night. When she opened it, a flush of pleasure ensued. The sketch depicted a gentleman down on one knee, presenting a rose to a young lady wearing a flowing gown with a distinct bustle. The gentleman and lady resembled both her and Will, and he’d signed the sketch at the bottom. She giggled as she hastened to tuck the sketch away in a drawer.
The second maid left after arranging her vase next to the window, but Minerva remained.
“Have you any gown in particular you wish to wear this morning?”
Bethany bit her lip. “Since I’d like to tuck one of those roses in my hair, have it be something with a bit of red in it.” She crossed over to the window to breathe in the heady fragrance. “What a wonderful way to wake up.”
Minerva smiled. “I wish a certain gentleman of my acquaintance would send me even a sprig of parsley.” She rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to know I exist.”
Bethany took one of the roses out of the vase and gave it to her. “This is for you, then. Perhaps you could give it to the fellow, to start things off.”
“Thank you, Miss Christensen, but I think not.” The maid giggled as she nuzzled the flower with her cheek. “If I did that, he might faint.”
“In that case, make sure to give it to him when he is sitting down.”
As Bethany went about her morning toilette, she had a smile on her lips. Red roses and the equivalent of a love letter was a good beginning, admittedly, but she would not consent to marry Will until the time was right.
∞∞∞
When Bethany entered the breakfast room wearing a white lawn gown accented with a red sash and tiny bows, she noticed a rose at her place setting and a nosegay at Jane’s. Will was certainly taking their courtship seriously!
He appeared a few minutes later with noticeable shadows under his eyes. “Good morning! Since you look fresh and beautiful, you must have slept well.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I did, thank you, but it appears you did not. You must have had a late night again.”
He chuckled. “I was exceedingly restless, as you must have been well aware.”
Bethany pretended to ignore that, even as a giggle escaped her lips. “Thank you for your note and the flowers.” She nodded toward the nosegay. “Flowers for my sister are a very nice touch. You are determined to play the gallant to the hilt, I see.”
Will shrugged. “I cannot expect to win your heart unless I also have Jane’s approval. Furthermore, since my judgment is compromised in the matter, it is your sister who must give her consent for our union.”
“Our future is in the hands of a twelve-year-old child?” Bethany laughed. “You do like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
He brought her hand to his lips. “You have no idea.”
Bethany’s smile slipped. “It’s a trifle warm in here, is it not?”
His eyes were smoky. “Wickedly hot, I would say.”
When Jane skipped into the room, Will released Bethany’s hand with a regretful smile.
“How pretty!” Jane dove for the nosegay. “Is this from you, Mr. Winter?”
“It is.” He sketched a bow. “The nosegay is not as lovely as you are, but perhaps you’ll find the scent pleasing.”
Jane giggled and curtsied at the same time. “I do.” She hastened over to the buffet. “Mr. Pace and I are to visit the Natural History Museum today. He is determined to fill my head with knowledge.”
“I’m to spend the morning copying the first three chapters of Wylde Eyes for Mr. Gerard, but this afternoon I’m going to visit Mrs. Halliwell. She has twins about your age, Jane, so you can come with me and meet them.”
Jane brightened. “All right. I would love to find some playmates here in town.” She brought a plate of food to the table and reached for the marmalade. “I thought you didn’t care for Mrs. Halliwell’s eldest son. Have you changed your mind?”
Bethany could feel Will’s eyes on her.
“I might wonder as much myself,” he said. “I was given to understand he was outside the realm of possibilities.”
“Er…you never know. At any rate, I’m not going to visit him in particular. Mrs. Halliwell knows everybody and I wanted to hear her news.”
Jane nodded. “Oh, you want to gossip.”
Will snorted into his tea.
“How else am I to find out what’s going on?” Bethany cleared her throat. “And what about you, Mr. Winter? I believe you mentioned looking for an art studio?”
“Yes. Since there are quite a few properties to see, I
might be gone most of the day. I expect I won’t be here for lunch.”
Jane beamed. “I want to visit your studio once you’ve found it. Are you going to paint portraits and such there?”
Will nodded. “I would like to do exactly that. Perhaps I’ll have you and your sister sit for me before the end of the summer. Then we can hang the finished painting alongside that of your parents.”
Bethany’s throat closed up. “What a lovely idea. We can all be together again that way.”
Jane frowned. “But who will paint you, Mr. Winter? We must have our guardian in the entryway as well.”
Will chuckled. “I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve never attempted a self-portrait before.”
“That’s not true.” Jane spread a huge dollop of marmalade on her toast. “Every illustration you drew of Garrison Wylde looks exactly like you—before you became civilized.”
His grin broadened. “Don’t let the genteel exterior fool you. I’m still uncivilized.” Will’s eyes flickered toward Bethany and he gave her a slow wink.
She felt her cheeks warming and quickly turned her attention to her plate. “Well, it looks as if Mrs. Deedle has outdone herself this morning. The bacon is exactly the way I like it—brown and crisp.”
∞∞∞
Will walked around the empty space, taking in the light, the ceiling, and the view from the window. He glanced at the property manager.
“I like the skylights, but do they ever leak?”
“Not if they’re properly closed.” The man produced a long pole from brackets on the wall and demonstrated how to open and close the skylights with it. “If you give them a little extra tightening, you will be fine.”
My Fair Guardian Page 19