That’s when she realized she was stretched out on a settee, Max seated next to her, his hip snugly fitted against hers.
“Very good,” her mother answered. “She insists on touting her status as an outcast, a stance I have never personally understood. She should be working on becoming a blooming flower of society, not—”
“Thank you, Mother,” Marigold interrupted quickly. She turned to look over Max’s shoulder to realize that both Daisy and Lily were there as well. Wherever ‘there’ was.
Lily was shooting daggers at her mother while Daisy winced sympathetically.
Just to the right, she noticed the marchioness looked decidedly...pained. Her lips were drawn tight as she looked over at Marigold’s mother.
Marigold attempted to sit up as she cleared her throat. “My lady, I would like to apologize for my behavior. I did not intend to pull you or your son from the party. Unforgivable. It was just that I...that we...” She stopped, aware she was beginning to ramble again. Drawing in a breath, she shook her head. “I hope you can accept my apology. My mother and my friends can attend me from here if you would both like to return.”
Marchioness Arundel’s eyebrows rose as she stepped closer. “Most kind but we’ll see our guest attended before we leave. Are you all right, Miss Clearwater?”
“I am fine.” She pushed herself up and Max’s hand came to her hip to steady her. Heat flushed her cheeks again. “The room was very warm and—” How did one explain that embarrassment and the touch of one marquess was wreaking havoc on her senses.
Her mother waved her hand. “Happens all the time, dear. You’re not used to the exertion of dancing and your corset is likely too tight.”
Marigold shook her head. Had her mother just brought up her lack of social standing and her underthings in the same sentence? Dear Lord, she said in a silent prayer, please help me through this night.
The marchioness’ lips pursed. “I am glad to see you’re well now.” She looked at her son. “Please let us know when you’re well enough to return to the ballroom.”
Marigold inwardly winced. Of course, she was keeping her hosts hostage. And Max had confided in her that his mother had plans for her son. Plans that did not involve a wallflower. “I’m ready.”
Lily stepped forward with a grimace. “Are you certain? I’ve never known you to faint before. Perhaps you should return to your room.”
“Out of the question.” Her mother gave Lily a glower. “Tonight is Marigold’s night. She must return. Fainting is almost as good as dancing with a marquess.”
Marigold let out an audible sigh. Was it any wonder she was socially awkward? Must her mother be so...obvious? “Of course, I’ll return.”
She swallowed and attempted to swing her legs over the side of the settee. Unfortunately, there was a rather large marquess in her way. Their hips pressed together again.
His fingers on her other hip tightened and...perhaps her mother was right and her corset was too tight because she nearly fainted again.
“I must insist that you stay here for a few more minutes and recover.” Max leaned closer, his brow still knitted in concern. “And when you’re ready, I’ll return you to the ballroom and make any introductions you wish.”
His frown deepened.
She gave a tentative nod. “Thank you, my lord.” Then she drew in a deep breath. “Truly, I have taken up enough of your evening. I’m ready.”
Both her mother and the marchioness sighed with relief. She and Max gave each other a long look. Marigold wondered if he was thinking exactly what she was thinking. Heaven save us from meddlesome mothers.
But he slowly raised himself off the settee and then reached his hands down to help her up.
He tucked her hand into his arm and they walked slowly toward the door, the other occupants of the room trailing behind.
She hoped for a brief second that they were far from the ballroom but the second they stepped out of the sitting room, noise from the crowd filtered into her ears. Standing just outside the door were the three men who’d been waiting at the end of the dance.
“Miss Clearwater,” Lord Wright stepped forward, his jowls jiggling. “Are you quite all right?”
“I am fine.” She gave him a weak smile. The introductions were far less disconcerting without a crowd of onlookers. “Thank you for asking.”
“Miss Clearwater,” Max rumbled from next to her. “I’d like to introduce you to Major Mayfield.”
She dipped into a curtsey and he flashed her another of his perfectly pleasant smiles. “Miss Clearwater.” He gave a stiff bow.
“A pleasure, Major.”
“Would it be terribly forward if I asked for a dance?” Then he winced. “That is if you’re recovered enough.”
“I would be delighted.” She removed her hand from Max’s arm as she allowed the major to fill his name in on her dance card. “I look forward to it.”
Max tilted his chin as he took a step away. “Thank you, Miss Clearwater, for a very interesting and entertaining set.”
She dipped into another curtsey as she watched Max walk away. His plan was already working and, now past her fear, she was grateful. So why did she wish she still had her hand in his arm, walking away with him rather than staying here?
Chapter Seven
She looked beautiful.
Max watched Marigold whirl around the room in the major’s arms. Some color had returned to her cheeks, he was pleased to see, and despite her recent fainting spell, she looked much the same as before.
Which was to say...she looked beautiful.
He tilted his head to the side to follow her movements.
But did she look happy?
He frowned. He thought not. There was no laughter in her warm brown eyes and no brilliant joy in that placid little smile she wore as she gazed up at Alex.
He narrowed his eyes to catch a glimpse of Alex’s expression.
What was his old friend about asking to dance with Marigold?
Well, he could imagine what he was about.
But still... The man hadn’t even had the decency to allow Marigold time to breathe before whisking her away for a waltz.
Awfully ill-mannered for a man as chivalrous as the major.
“They make quite the pair dancing together.” His sister’s teasing tone had him glancing over. Her knowing smirk told him he’d been caught.
He forced his gaze to the other side of the room where their mother was laughing over something that Abigail woman was saying to her.
His sister’s shoulder nudged his arm. “They would make a fine couple, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
Her laughter was equally charming and irritating and he cast her a narrowed glare that made her laugh even harder.
His own lips twitched up with amusement as well. He never had been much good at staying angry with Sarah, not even when she was purposefully trying to antagonize him.
She pointed, her finger directly in front of his face so he was forced to follow where it led.
It led to Alex and Marigold, of course, who did indeed made a handsome couple. Unassuming, perhaps, but elegant all the same.
“They look all right,” he murmured uncharitably.
She laughed. “They dance together better than you two did. Although—” Her expression turned to chagrin as she added. “I suppose that was because of your leg injury.”
He looked away, his irritation as this waltz continued on for what seemed to be an unusually long amount of time.
“What did happen to your leg, Max? No one will tell me.”
He frowned. That was because he would never say.
At his continued silence, she sighed. “Very well. I suppose it is something too difficult to discuss.”
He winced. Yes. But not for the reasons she likely believed.
“Why are you not dancing?” he asked, turning away from Marigold and her smile to face his sister head on.
Her smile fad
ed. “No one asked, if you must know.”
Max frowned, opening his mouth to ask any number of no doubt unwanted questions about her season and her hopes of finding a match.
“Please.” She cut him off with a raised hand and a shake of her head. “I have enough of that from Mother.”
He let out a short laugh. “I can imagine.”
They shared a knowing look before his gaze moved back to the dancing couples, and to one lovely brunette in particular.
A moment later his mother’s voice on his other side gave him a start. “Please stop staring, dear. You’ve already created enough gossip by sharing a dance with the girl.”
He stiffened. Something about the dismissive way she said ‘the girl’ had his nostrils flaring and his muscles tensing.
“I’m certain Miss Clearwater is grateful for your kindness, but one must set one’s sights quite a bit higher now that you are a marquess in need of a bride.”
He turned to find her hovering at his side, worry etched on her features.
“Mother, I have been home for all of one day. I am in need of nothing so much as a good night’s sleep.” He arched his brows. “Certainly not a bride.”
“But, dear, you must marry and—”
“And there will be time for all that.” An age-old irritation made his voice sharper than intended. Years of having grown men follow his commands, trust his judgement, and follow him into battle and now this.
He’d come home to be ordered about by his mother.
Old arguments seemed to echo in the back of his mind as he looked around this ballroom, looking but not seeing the dancers who swept past, ogling him and his family as they went. He took a deep breath and struggled for calm.
“I know you have my best interests at heart, Mother, but when it comes to choosing a bride—”
“I’ve already told you,” she interrupted. “I’ve selected three young ladies—”
“No.” His voice was too harsh, and he stiffened at the feel of Sarah’s wide-eyed stare. How many times had he gone down this road with his father, and his mother, too. “I will choose my bride if and when I am ready,” he said, making sure to keep his voice low and even. “I always value your opinion, Mother, but you will have no say in my final choice.”
His mother’s lips parted, her eyes widening in shock and outrage. “But I—”
“Perhaps it would be best if we discuss this later, Mother,” Sarah said, hurrying to her mother’s side to take her away before they caused a scene.
His mother’s chin tilted up. “That will not be necessary.”
His heart sank as he saw a flicker of hurt, but her shoulders were pushed back and she looked as stoic as he’d ever seen her. “If your brother does not wish for my help to find a bride, then I shall step aside.”
“Mother, I—” He cut himself off with a sigh as Sarah gave him a meaningful look.
Not now, not here, her look said.
He knew she was right, but the disagreement ate at him. He’d only just returned, he didn’t wish to be at odds with his mother. But he also couldn’t sit back and let her navigate his future the way she’d always done when he was a child.
The way his father had done right up until the day he’d died.
He winced as he stared out at the dancers. There it was, the truth he’d been avoiding. He did not wish to have this argument with his mother because it was the same one he’d had right before he’d left this home after his last visit.
Those words still haunted him, nagged at him.
“If you both will excuse me,” his mother said. And then she was off, making small talk with people he hardly knew. He and Sarah were left alone as the waltz came to an end and another dance began. He eyed the crowd of dancers, scoffing aloud as he saw two gentlemen approaching Marigold as she attempted to make her way back to her beloved wall.
The crowd blocked his view as the dancers took their places and he and Sarah fell into a tense silence as they avoided the drama that had just unfolded.
Sarah broke the silence first. “So...”
He let out a huff that was part amusement and part resignation. “So...”
“You really like this girl, don’t you?” she asked.
He shot her a sidelong look. “I did not say that. If either of you had deigned to ask I would have told you that Marigold is merely a friend.”
“A friend you have not stopped looking at since we arrived in the ballroom.”
He didn’t bother denying it. “She is a compelling friend.”
A flash of concern was his warning and he knew what she would say. “I just do not wish to see her hurt by your attentions, Max. I—”
“Tell me, Sarah, does she seem hurt to you?” He arched his brows in challenge. “I brought attention to a sweet young lady who deserves to be noticed.” He waved a hand toward the dance floor. “As you can see she is dancing quite happily with...” He turned to look, curious which of the gentlemen had won out.
“Actually she does not appear to be dancing with anyone,” Sarah said, echoing his thoughts.
He frowned at the dancers. She was not out there. A quick glance told him she was not resting against a wall or hiding behind a fern, either.
She was gone.
He found her friends, but they were both engaged in conversations with their fiancés, which meant that Marigold was...where, exactly?
“Excuse me, Sarah,” he said as he headed toward the place where he’d last seen her. “I really ought to find her.”
“You?” Sarah’s voice was high with excitement as she followed after him. “Why does that fall to you, dear brother? Surely her mother or her friends should be the ones who—”
He stopped walking just long enough to whip around and face his highly amused and terribly irritating little sister. “I am the host this evening, and she is our guest.”
“I see.” She pressed her lips together to try and tamper a smile.
It did not work.
“Besides...I’ve already saved her once before this evening, did I not? That makes her my responsibility.” He was already turning away, a new sense of urgency hurrying him toward the open doors. If she’d been feeling faint she would have wanted fresh air.
He headed out to find a few party guests lingering on the veranda that bordered the gardens. The ones he found were couples lost in their own romantic interlude to have noticed a stray wallflower passing by.
But he knew she was out there. He wasn’t even entirely sure how he knew, but he was certain. His little Marigold would be amidst the flowers.
He spotted her slippers first. Peeking out from behind a small picket fence that separated the path from the garden. He approached slowly, sinking down on the opposite side of the fence and letting out a loud exhale to announce his presence. “I find you have the right idea, Marigold,” he said softly, tilting his head back to gaze upon the stars. “This is a perfect night for stargazing.”
He heard a swift inhale and then, to his delight, a sweet musical laugh that had his grin broadening and the tension in his chest relaxing.
They sat for a moment in silence before he broke it with a question. “Did he offend you?”
“Who?”
“The major.”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “He was most considerate.”
“Hmmph.” He should have been pleased. He supposed he was pleased on her behalf. It was not as though he wished to see her dance with some brute. But still...
“Did one of the other gentlemen offend you? Make inappropriate advances?”
“No.”
He remained silent this time, giving her time and space she clearly needed. But if she thought he was going to leave, she was mistaken.
“Are you still there?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I’m here.” He sat upright again. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I just got overwhelmed, that is all.” He could hear her shifting on the other side. “I h
ope you are not angry. I know you went to some trouble to make it seem as though—”
“All I did was enjoy a dance with a beautiful young lady.”
“Oh.” It came out on a sigh that made his lips curve up in a grin.
His heart was beating too fast considering he was sitting here stargazing. Sarah’s words of warning were still with him and he found himself opening his mouth and shutting it again several times to avoid saying anything that might be construed as flirtatious.
“You do not have to sit with me out here all night, you know. I am certain your mother has other ladies lined up for you to dance with.”
He could not stop his groan. “I am sure she does.”
“Was she terribly angry you danced with me this evening? I do not suppose I am on her list of eligible young ladies.”
He found himself chuckling despite the topic. “Have I told you how much I adore your straightforwardness.” He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of her, but she was well hidden behind the fence. “You are so refreshingly honest...when you deign to speak.”
She sighed heavily. “That is the problem, you see. When I ‘deign to speak’ as you say, I have no filter. Anything could come out. Just like...”
He heard her mouth clamp shut and chuckled. “Go on and finish what you were about to say.” When she still hesitated, he added, “You can tell me anything and I promise not to be shocked or offended.”
“Yes, but you might think me a fool or a silly scatterbrained dolt or an embarrassment—”
“Nonsense.” His voice grew lower and filled with conviction. “I could never think you are anything but honest and kind and thoughtful and genuine and...” He cleared his throat when he realized he’d gotten carried away.
“Yes, well, I share my mother’s tendencies to speak first and think later, and I don’t wish to follow in her footsteps.”
Ah. Now he understood. He did not know her mother well but from the little he’d heard, there was no denying what she meant by that.
“For my part, my parents are stubborn in the extreme,” he admitted. “They always think they know what’s best for me, even now that I am grown.”
Her silence lasted for a long while, but it was a nice, companionable sort of silence. “I am sorry about your father,” she said. “I never knew him, but I heard he was a wonderful man.”
A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances Page 28