A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances

by Maggie Dallen

  He fully intended to.

  It was possible this night might not be so painful as he’d thought. He could have his fun and help the sweet little wallflower in the process.

  “Are you ready to make your entrance into society as a marquess, my dear?” His mother’s voice was breathless with excitement.

  His smile felt grim. “As ready as I will ever be.”

  Chapter Four

  Marigold peeked around the fern, watching the handsome Marquess of Arundel make his way into the ballroom.

  Now there was a man made for romantic fancy.

  Tall, broad, well-muscled, he filled the room with his very presence. His hair, perfectly trimmed, waved back from his forehead... Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she leaned forward for a better look. There was something familiar about his hair but she couldn’t quite place it. Who did he remind her of?

  She blinked, setting the thought aside. It didn’t matter who he resembled and she surely didn’t know the man. Daisy had told her he’d been on the frontlines since before she’d entered society and had only arrived at the party today.

  The marquess made his way through the crowd, his large shoulders swaying with a bit of a limp. Had he sustained some sort of injury?

  She gasped as a story began to spin in her mind. A heroic duel with a dastardly Frenchman. The sun was rising as the two men faced off. The marquess tall and broad, the Frenchman, short and heavyset. Both guns fire at the exact same moment. Perhaps he’d taken a lead ball to the side but emerged the hero—

  “Marigold, are you listening?” Lily asked from her right.

  Marigold gave her head a tiny nod, attempting to shake out her daydreams and attend her friend. She turned toward Lily, whose red hair gleamed in the candlelight. “Of course, I am.”

  “Liar,” Daisy chuckled from her left, her blue eyes dancing with merriment. “Even I noticed you eying the marquess.”

  At his mention, Marigold allowed her gaze to settle back on the striking figure of a man steadily making his way through the crowd. “He is exceedingly handsome, isn’t he?”

  Lily gave a tiny snort. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’ve only just gotten engaged and you can only attend your soon-to-be husband.” Marigold didn’t bother to look away from the marquess. Her friend was surely picturing her own knight in shining armor. Lord Merrick had rescued Lily from near ruin in a fairy tale sort of way that had ended with a dramatic public proposal.

  “True.” Lily gave a small tinkling laugh. “But you’ve clearly noticed the newcomer which brings us back to the topic at hand.” She arched her brows meaningfully. “You.”

  Marigold grimaced. “Yes. That.” She’d pulled her friends from the sides of their fiancés earlier this evening to discuss a problem which was in desperate need of a solution.

  Her future.

  The longer she’d sat in that shed this afternoon, the more desperate she’d become.

  Somehow, landing in a stranger’s lap had sharpened her vague feelings of worry and dread. Because Lily and Daisy were about to leave her side and then she’d have no one to help her navigate society.

  Her friends impending marriages meant she’d be that last wallflower standing, which meant she had a very narrow window with which to solve the nagging problem of her impending spinsterhood.

  “Are you certain you want to attempt to pursue a match?” Daisy asked. “You’ve never shown any real interest before.”

  That wasn’t true but she didn’t bother to correct her friend. She’d always been interested. She’d just been too shy to do anything about it. Still was. But if she didn’t force herself to act, she’d be alone...forever. “The problem,” she murmured, “is that I will need help. And with the two of you about to marry...”

  Lily touched her shoulder. “You do understand that we’re not leaving the country, right? We’ll still be able to help you even if we’re wed.”

  “Perhaps we’ll be even more helpful,” Daisy added with a hopeful smile. “We’ll have better connections and can invite you to events with the most eligible bachelors and...”

  Her voice trailed off as Marigold shook her head. That wasn’t true. Oh, she knew they would do everything they could. They’d attend the occasional ball with her, but they’d have new duties, new obligations. And soon enough, they’d have children to care for. Everything would change.

  “I’ve been out three seasons.” She could hear the desperation in the breathiness of her own voice. “I’m dangerously close to being put on the shelf. It’s time for me to act.”

  “What is it you need from us?” Daisy reached for her hand.

  Marigold finally tore her gaze from the man who’d captured her romantic visions. She’d spent too much time romantically daydreaming already. What she needed was a dose of reality. “I need a list of men who might be willing to marry a wallflower.”

  There. She’d said it.

  “A list?” Lily asked, her voice growing excessively loud. Fortunately the noise from the other guests drowned her out.

  “That isn’t...” Daisy paused, tilting her head to the side. “Very romantic.”

  Marigold twisted her hands together. No. It wasn’t. And as a long time lover of romantic stories, it hurt her heart a bit to give it up but these were desperate times and a girl had to be practical. “I don’t think I’m the sort of person who gets a romantic fairy tale. I’m too...” She paused, looking for the word.

  “Kind?” Lily supplied, reaching for her clasped hands.

  “Lovely?” Daisy asked, rubbing her arm.

  Her heart squeezed in her chest. “You’re both wonderful friends. The best.”

  Lily gave her fingers another squeeze. “Marigold, when are you going to realize that you are the best. The most wonderful sort of friend and ally. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

  “Honestly,” Daisy added. “Don’t talk as though a man would have to settle if he married you. Any man here would be fortunate to have you at his side.”

  Daisy glanced up to see the Marquess of Arundel conversing with Lady Abigail Franks. As pretty as she was conceited, she was a darling of the ton and exactly the sort of woman a powerful marquess would want for a wife. She’d already grabbed the attention of a romantic fantasy come to life.

  A small sigh escaped Marigold’s lips. “Lucky.” “Did you have anyone in mind to begin your list?” Lily asked, finally letting go of Marigold’s hands.

  Marigold shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling as her gaze cast down toward the floor. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. “Lord Roger Wright.”

  Lily tsked. “Him? Sincerely? He’s so...”

  “Earnest.” Daisy shot a glare at Lily over Marigold’s head, but she caught the look anyway.

  Lily frowned. “That wasn’t the word I was going to use. Physical appearance aside, he’s not very gracious or even nice. He’s rather—”

  Daisy held up her free hand for Lily to stop. “Who else do you have in mind for this list, Marigold?”

  Marigold nibbled on her lower lip, a bad habit her mother was forever attempting to break. “I do not really have any other ideas. I have not given it much thought yet.”

  This was a lie. She’d done nothing but think of names for this list ever since her unfortunate run-in with a stranger this morning. The problem was, she could not seem to get far before she was forced to toss the list aside in despair.

  She only half listened as Daisy and Lily bandied about names of gentlemen who might fit the bill. She did not need to pay attention because she’d already mentally catalogued this very same list earlier today and only one thing had been clear by the end of that exercise.

  Her options truly were dismal. Every eligible gentleman she could think of was either completely uninterested in her or thoroughly repugnant in some way.

  It was not as though she was such an unmarriageable prospect. Her family might not have been powerful, but she had enviable connecti
ons to an earldom as well as a Viscount for an uncle. Her dowry was decent, her health hale and hearty, and her looks...well, perhaps she was a bit plain, but not so very unappealing as to drive gentlemen away.

  No. Her biggest fault was her personality. Or rather, her lack thereof. She’d never gotten over the shyness that her mother swore she would one day outgrow. She had no idea how to speak to members of the opposite sex, and when she attempted to it nearly always ended in too little words or too many.

  Her tongue either froze in her mouth or it ran away from her, as was the case earlier today. This morning’s shed debacle was exactly why she typically kept her mouth shut at social functions such as this one. But the problem with keeping quiet in the corner was that no one seemed to realize she existed.

  She was invisible, for all intents and purposes.

  “Perhaps there is someone we are not thinking of,” Daisy offered once she and Lily had run out of ideas.

  “Or,” Marigold said slowly, her voice resigned. “Perhaps I need to focus less on finding the perfect option and put more attention into cultivating any option.”

  Lily pursed her lips in dismay at that and Daisy’s pretty features furrowed in concern.

  Daisy was a fellow romantic so Marigold supposed she more than anyone understood how disheartening that was.

  Disheartening but practical.

  “How can we help?” Lily asked.

  Marigold offered her friends a sad smile. “Teach me how to get noticed?”

  Lily laughed. “Getting noticed? That’s the easy part for me, unfortunately. But I suppose you do not wish to cause a scandal.”

  Marigold shook her head. “No scandals, thank you. I merely wish to be noticed. Perhaps then—”

  Her voice was cut off by Daisy’s hand on her arm. “Marigold?”

  “Yes?”

  Daisy’s gaze was focused on something or someone behind her. “Does it seem as though the Marquess of Arundel is looking at you?”

  “What?” Marigold whipped her head to the side to follow Daisy’s gaze and froze.

  The marquess was staring in their direction.

  No...at her.

  Daisy’s other hand tightened on Marigold’s arm, her fingers turning into a vice. “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say that he’s making his way over here.”

  “Perhaps he’s interested in Marigold.” Lily stroked her chin thoughtfully. “I think we should add him to the list.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Marigold answered but the final word came out in a whisper because the man was staring directly at her. She swallowed a lump, resisting the urge to shrink behind Lily’s statuesque figure.

  Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. She swallowed again as she took a half step back. Or tried. As it turned out, there was a wall in her way. A decided drawback to being a wallflower.

  “He’s definitely headed this way.” Daisy’s vise-like grip loosened as she once again began patting Marigold’s arm. Though it felt a bit more like being thumped after choking on a pasty. “Perhaps we need not make a list after all.”

  Marigold silently shook her head, her tongue refusing to work. It was all well and good to fantasize about a man while he was across the room, but she was not the sort of woman to gracefully entertain such a gentleman. Her head swam as he moved closer.

  Fortunately, the wall held her up because otherwise, she worried she might actually swoon. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her erratic pulse.

  The marquess walked beside his mother, and for the first time this evening, Marigold looked at their hostess. The woman’s brow was knitted with the same confusion that clouded Marigold’s mind.

  But despite any trepidation on the marchioness’s part, they stopped in front of Marigold and her two friends and dimly, Marigold was aware that the marchioness was making introductions.

  Daisy nudged her when it was her turn to curtsey.

  “Miss Mary,” the marquess' deep voice rumbled. Again, she got the impression that something was familiar about the sound but the noise from the crowd around her kept her from pinpointing where she’d heard it before. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  She froze. For a heartbeat she stood there in silence as she waited for...what? Laughter, perhaps? Or a pinch as someone woke her from this daydream? When the pause stretched into awkward silence, she realized they were honestly waiting for a response.

  From her.

  She nodded, unable to speak and her fingers trembled in his as he placed them on his arm and began to lead her out to the dance floor. She looked back at Daisy and Lily who both gave her smiles of encouragement. Marigold resisted the urge to squeak in fear. Blessedly her feet worked as they moved into an open spot and he gathered her into his arms.

  Her feet only tripped a little before they fell into step and as he didn’t try to speak, she was free to concentrate on not making a fool of herself physically.

  That waltz picked up in tempo, but his movements were also deliberate and, somehow, that made it easier for her to move with grace.

  A minor miracle considering the feel of his hand at her waist and the scent of him... sandalwood and...

  Her mind once again settled on his familiarity. “My lord,” she murmured, fluttering up her gaze to meet his. “Have we met before?”

  A grin parted his lips as he looked down at her. They entered into a spin and she felt his steps falter and his body stiffen as his smile disappeared. “Apologies. Days spent in the saddle have made the leg worse than usual.”

  A sick dread settled deep into her stomach. Wounded leg, soldier back from war...warm rich, wavy brown hair. She gasped in surprise. “My goodness. You...you’re...” Her words died.

  He gave her another grin. “I told you we’d meet again, Marigold.”

  Chapter Five

  It was entirely possible that Max was finding too much enjoyment in Marigold’s shock.

  He’d realized right away that she hadn’t recognized him. There had been nothing but surprise and trepidation in her eyes as he’d dragged his mother over to Marigold and her friends.

  It was not that his mother had anything against these young ladies, he knew. It was merely that she had her own agenda for this evening.

  And it was one he was determined to thwart.

  His mother was nearly as stubborn as their father, almost as bullheaded as his sister, even, but they all paled in comparison to Max—a fact of which he was more than a little proud.

  Usually.

  He flinched as memories of his last interaction with his father came back to him.

  “Oh I am so sorry,” Marigold said in a high breathy voice that was as sweet and unassuming as the girl herself.

  “You are forgiven.” He arched his brows and tightened his grip as he whirled her around, ignoring the ache in his thigh which made dancing more difficult than it ought to be. “But might I ask...what exactly are you apologizing for?”

  “You flinched, my lord.” She bit her lip and then released it quickly, but he found his gaze unable to look away from those delightfully full, pink lips. “I assumed I’d stepped on you or hurt you.”

  Amusement and bewilderment had his lips curving up as he tilted his head down to study her and her tiny frame. He had to confess, she was a great deal prettier and far less plain than he’d assumed from her half-hidden view behind the fern. As he looked at her warm brown eyes and her pert little nose, he found she was almost...beautiful. “Miss Clearwater, I am not certain you could hurt me if you tried.”

  Her brows drew together in confusion. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  “Merely a statement on your dainty stature.”

  She stared at him for a long moment and he saw the moment she decided to let that go. “I should also apologize for not recognizing you earlier.”

  “Should you?” He was teasing her, but it was impossible not to. She was so very easy to tease.

  Her cheeks pinkened and her gaz
e dropped to his clean-shaven chin. “It is just that...you look so different now then you did when...”

  “When you were in my lap?” He kept his voice mild, but he felt her stiffen even further, which was saying something as he had the distinct impression that she was one tiny ball of tense muscles from the moment he’d taken her into his arms. He leaned down and lowered his voice. “In the dark?”

  She pulled her head back slightly to frown up at him. “You are teasing me.”

  “I am.”

  She blinked a few times, clearly uncertain what to make of that. “Well, anyway, I do apologize for not realizing who you were and—”

  “There is no need,” he said. “In fact, I’ve already decided to take it as a compliment.” He grinned and watched her blink dazedly in response. “I was not exactly in my finest form when I first arrived home, now was I?”

  She kept silent, clearly uncertain of how she ought to respond without offending him.

  He adored the fact that her first response was not to protest and try and convince him that he looked just fine or lie and say she had not noticed.

  She stared straight ahead and he focused on the dance. More specifically, he focused on the feel of a young lady in his arms, surprisingly graceful when she forgot to be nervous. The scent of her that was just as heady and delicate as he’d remembered. The sight of her light brown hair and smooth white skin gleaming in the candlelight.

  “I did not realize you were a marquess,” she suddenly blurted out.

  For some reason that made him choke on a laugh.

  Everything about this girl made him smile. Perhaps it was her sincerity. There was nothing fake about her, nothing forced.

  She was simply Marigold.

  But that meant it was nearly impossible to predict what she might say next, and that was a rarity at events such as this one. One of the reasons he’d been so eager to flee society and all its trappings was because of evenings like tonight. The tedious boredom, the unrelenting small talk that never varied, the gossip and rumors that passed for entertainment and news, but most of all the insincerity of it all. The fickleness of popularity that was directly tied to wealth and power. The false smiles and fake laughter that had always followed his father and made a young Max cringe.