‘We protect each other, don’t we? That’s our bargain, isn’t it—Marcella.’
She smiled. ‘So it is, Dellamont.’
‘My family calls me “Crispin”.’
‘Then I would be honoured... Crispin.’
She slipped down from the vehicle and hurried over to unlock the door to the servants’ entrance.
Crispin hopped down as well and went to his horses’ heads, rubbing their noses and speaking softly. He idled there until, a short time later, Marcella emerged, once again properly attired in skirts. He led the team beside her until they reached the nearby hackney stand, then waited until she climbed into a vehicle and waved goodbye to him through the window.
Watching her drive off, he was able finally to completely relax.
It had been an extraordinary adventure. Even now, he marvelled that he’d had the audacity and foolhardiness to go through with it. Although once he learned she was adamant about attending the lecture, he didn’t see what else he could have done. He had to protect her and make sure she didn’t come to grief.
A warm feeling expanded in his chest at knowing he had given her a memory she would treasure.
Now that the threat of disaster was over, he was beginning to think he would treasure it, too. He must set his to mind to figuring out how to guarantee he’d have the enjoyment and stimulation of meeting with her at her father’s office after their society bargain concluded.
Because he didn’t dare allow himself to contemplate sharing anything more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Two afternoons later, Marcella rode in the carriage with Lady Arlsley out of London towards Norwalk House in Highgate Village. Lady Norwalk’s annual garden party to display the beauty of her extensive grounds was one of the highlights of the early Season, her sponsor told her, the plantings magnificent and the view over the city to the south and the forests to the north incomparable.
A country girl at heart, Marcella was looking forward to some fresh air and perhaps a longer walk than was possible in Lady Arlsley’s small city garden.
A long walk with Lord Dellamont, who’d assured her he planned to attend.
It would be a relief to be able to converse freely with him, something she’d not been able to do at the crowded rout last night. She had little more than a week left of the month she’d promised herself to endure the Season. Though she was tempted to extend that deadline in order to enjoy more of Dellamont’s company, it would be wiser to hold to it...lest she grow fonder of him than she was willing to admit, to him or herself.
There was also the problem of her apparent inability to resist kissing him whenever an opportunity arose.
Yes, she’d been beyond thankful for the gift he’d given her by agreeing to accompany her to the Stephenson lecture. But she was too honest to attribute her impulsive kiss in Lady Arlsley’s garden—or the longer, more lingering, more passionate one on the tavern terrace—simply to a need to thank him.
The bald truth was she desired him, and had practically from the moment she first saw him. An attraction that had only deepened over time, while her consciousness of his presence when he was near grew ever more acute.
She’d wanted his kisses, and thrilled at the response she evoked in him. She’d never felt anything more wonderful than soft pressure of his tongue caressing hers, setting off explosions of sensation all over her body and a heated ache at her very centre.
Though she’d never experienced such feelings before, she was well aware of the dangers of indulging them. Were she and Dellamont interested in a relationship closer than friendship, she might be willing to risk ever more intimate moments. Like the feel of his hands all over her body that she dreamed about as she tossed and turned at night.
But with him uninterested in marriage and her unwilling to consider wedding into the ton, even if he changed his mind about wedlock, continually subjecting herself to a temptation she’d already demonstrated she was ill equipped to resist could end in disaster.
Disaster to her reputation...and her heart, which found him ever more appealing.
She couldn’t in good conscience try to entice Austin Gilling into marrying her if she’d already given herself—or her affections—to someone else. She’d be a fool to risk losing the possibility of securing Gilling’s love and commitment to savour a passion she found incomparable—and that an experienced gentleman like Dellamont, if he thought about his reaction at all, probably considered only the normal physical response of a healthy male for an attractive female. Pleasant, but nothing out of the ordinary.
It was time to return to her rightful place, to limited goals that were capable of being realised. Return this Cinderella to the ash-strewn hearth of domestic reality and leave the fairy-tale prince alone in his glittering world.
Despite how incredibly sweet and stirring it was to have his lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her, she must prevent it from happening again.
Besides, much as she desired him, she admired and cared for him even more. If she were sensible enough to resist his physical appeal, she would protect the possibility of maintaining her friendship with an exceptional man who appreciated the things she loved. Who accepted and even admired her unconventional talents.
Since, much as her heart sometimes imagined otherwise, she knew nothing more than friendship was feasible.
So she must concentrate on doing whatever was necessary to ensure she could continue meeting her dear friend after she abandoned society. At her father’s office, at least, and perhaps also riding in the park, properly chaperoned by her groom.
It was simply unthinkable now that she could give Crispin up completely.
Despite knowing that trading his almost daily escort for more occasional meetings was the smart, the prudent, the only course, the prospect still made her melancholy.
At least she had the event today, a few more balls and a handful of morning rides to look forward to before she was forced to reduce their interactions.
After the carriage halted, Marcella followed her sponsor out and through the gate into the walled Norwalk House gardens, curtsying to the hostess who’d set up a reception line just inside the door. After being directed to refreshment tables placed out on the lawn and given a map of the various paths and allées leading to a rose garden not yet in bloom, garden rooms of spring bulbs in a variety of hues, and several evergreen walks that led to a small maze, she accompanied her sponsor over to a group of Lady Arlsley’s friends.
She stood at Lady Arlsley’s elbow after greetings had been exchanged, smiling politely, hoping Crispin would arrive soon and that Lord Hoddleston would not arrive at all.
She’d encountered the Baron at each of the last two evening entertainments they’d attended, a ball and last night’s rout. Though she couldn’t avoid dancing with him, she’d been careful to make sure she was promised to someone else—last night, to Crispin—for the waltzes. But though the country dances kept him at a safe distance, he still walked too close to her as he escorted her on or off the floor and retained her hands too long after the movements of the dance dictated he release them. She made little attempt at conversation, leaving it to him when she was forced to endure his presence.
He could have no doubt about her lack of enthusiasm for his company, but still he persisted. And when she wasn’t dancing or talking with him, she felt his gaze fixed on her from across the room—the greedy eyes of a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse.
It was fortunate that she would quit society soon, before she felt forced to cut him, regardless of what Lady Arlsley might say. There seemed no other way to avoid him, since he persisted in asking her to dance and stopping by to converse, despite her several times baldly asserting that she had no intention of marrying him.
To which he inevitably replied that he’d wait to see what her answer was after Dellamont dropped her—an event he predicted to be imminent every time he
spoke with her.
An event, sadly, that was imminent, if not in the way Hoddleston meant.
To her relief, she spotted the Viscount’s tall form striding in through the entrance gate. Ready to be rescued, she turned to greet him as he walked over to join her.
Smiling, he bowed and paid his compliments to Lady Arlsley and her friends before turning to Marcella. ‘A lovely day, isn’t it? Lady Arlsley, might I be permitted to take your charge for a turn around the garden?’ He held up his guide. ‘I have my map, so I promise I won’t get us lost.’
‘As long as you keep to the main pathways where other couples are strolling. Do avoid the temptation of exploring one of the deserted side-allées,’ Lady Arlsley said with a knowing look. ‘Enjoy your walk.’
Putting her hand on his arm as they set off, Marcella murmured, ‘Not exactly overwhelmed with concern for my reputation, was she, sending us off alone with thinly veiled hints encouraging impropriety? I thought, with Mary not present, she’d insist on accompanying us. Apparently she’d rather us take advantage of her permission to do something compromising.’
‘With hopes that another strolling couple would see and report it.’
‘The sooner to have me affianced or disgraced and off her hands.’ Marcella sighed. ‘I shall have to be on my best behaviour, then—something I’ve signally failed to be thus far.’
‘A delightful failure I wish I could encourage,’ Crispin said wryly. ‘But that wouldn’t be a wise move—for either of us.’
‘How unfortunate that wisdom must be so—unfulfilling.’
‘Whereas rashness promises so much delight?’ He sighed, too, and pressed her hand. ‘We must both be on our best behaviour—no matter how difficult that is.’
It was probably unmaidenly to ask such a brazen question, but she couldn’t help it. ‘You also find it...difficult?’
He halted, looking down at her, the intensity of his gaze unmistakable. ‘I’ve found resisting you difficult from the moment we met.’
Both surprised and gratified by his response, she could think of nothing to reply but a brainless, ‘Oh.’
‘Exactly,’ he said, making her chuckle. ‘So, it is a lovely day, the sun bright with the hint of summer to come and that azure sky dotted with lazy white clouds. And Lady Arlsley, however ignoble her motives, has allowed us the chance to talk freely. Let us enjoy that gift and not mourn...what we dare not have.’
The sun seemed brighter, the day warmer in his company, she thought, that now-familiar ripple of response going through her as she placed her hand on his arm. Walking side by side through the garden, virtually alone, was an intimacy that could easily lead to her wanting more. Another reason to limit herself in future to intellectual discussions in her father’s office or forays on horseback, both of them mounted on their respective steeds, a safe distance apart.
‘Are you enjoying this event?’ he asked, startling her out of her reflections.
‘I like being in London, but I’ve missed the country. Though we spend a good deal of time in the city, accompanying Papa when he’s working in the office here, I grew up riding the trails and rambling along the paths of my grandfather’s country house outside Tynemouth. Mother and I always return there when Papa is off on his frequent travels.’
‘Indeed? I thought you lived all the year in London.’
‘Oh, no! My father has another office in Newcastle, and we almost always spend the summers at Faircastle House. Papa says the city isn’t salubrious in the hot summer months.’
‘Fleeing the city in the heat? See, you do share something with the ton, who also retreat to their country estates after Parliament adjourns. Do you enjoy garden parties like this one at your grandfather’s house?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s my first time to attend a petit déjeuner champêtre—such a pretentious name, by the way! Although I find it ridiculous to refer to an event held in the afternoon as a “breakfast”.’
Crispin chuckled. ‘Ah, but for ton fashionables who attend balls until the wee hours or gamble until dawn, this probably is when they normally breakfast.’
‘If so, another reason to dislike the group. I admit, the setting is lovely, but when I look at all the chairs that have been placed around the grounds, the tables brought out and loaded with refreshments that servants must scurry back and forth from the kitchens to replenish, all I can think about is how much trouble it must have been for the staff to set up and serve this event. I’m sure the maids and footmen with sore feet and aching arms wish the affair could have been held inside in one of the salons or ballrooms already furnished with chairs and tables that wouldn’t have to be moved. Where the kitchens in which the refreshments are prepared are much closer to the places where they are being served.’
‘Like the French, are you, ready to abolish the monarchy and create a republic?’ he teased.
‘No, just someone who appreciates the hard work of my staff and doesn’t wish to make it unnecessarily more difficult. But then,’ she added, ‘Lady Arlsley told me Lady Norwalk takes great pride in the excellence, grand scale and uniqueness of her affair. She—and aristocrats like her—probably never spare a thought for the extra work she creates for her servants. Yet another reason to be glad I—and my egalitarian beliefs—shall soon be exiting aristocratic society.’
‘Ah, but if Lady Norwalk had greater sensibility, we’d not be walking here with this backdrop of glorious spring flowers. The ladies do look like brilliant blooms or colourful butterflies beside the allées of greenery, don’t they?’
‘I grant you it makes a pretty picture. But the ladies could stroll just as prettily if the tables and refreshments remained inside.’
‘Point taken. Have you seen more of Lord Charles? I didn’t notice him hovering near you at the rout last night.’
Marcella sighed. ‘It appears you were right; he was about to make me a declaration. I tried to refuse him as gently as I could, telling him how honoured I was by his esteem, but that I couldn’t consider anything warmer than friendship. I hope I didn’t wound his sensibilities too much.’
‘I can understand his disappointment. He’s unlikely ever to find another treasure like you, with the sense to appreciate his good character and the kindness to overlook his lack of wit.’
His assessment sent a shock of surprise through her. Did Crispin think her a ‘treasure’? She was about to ask him, then remembered he’d already told her several times he never said anything he didn’t mean.
She felt immensely pleased to know she figured so highly in his esteem. Of course, she esteemed him pretty highly too. If only...
She jerked her imaginings to a halt before they could venture down that futile path. Not only was Dellamont neither an engineer nor someone from her world, he’d already assured her several times he did not wish to marry. What he wanted to treasure from her was friendship.
If she were lucky, Austin would end up deciding to make her an offer. She’d be able to wrap herself in his cherished, long-familiar affection. An affection whose warmth would insulate her from the chill of losing her close association with Dellamont.
She gave herself a mental shake, telling herself not to waste the time she did have being melancholy about the changes that must happen in the future. It was a beautiful day, she was walking through a lovely country garden accompanied by an enticingly handsome escort she liked and admired. How foolish of her to be anything but joyful!
While she ordered her emotions, Crispin had paused to consult the map. ‘We’re very near where the path leads off to the maze. What do you think, my engineering marvel? Do you believe you could figure out the pathways and beat me to the centre?’
‘I’ve never been in a maze before, but I’m ready to give it a try,’ she said, glad to be distracted by his light-hearted challenge.
He swept out a hand. ‘Ladies first. Choose your pathway, I’ll take th
e other. After we find the centre and make our way back, you’ll have had enough exertion that even you will be ready to snag an outdoor glass of punch from those poor overworked servants.’
‘Perhaps,’ she admitted. ‘Shall we be off?’
‘After you. I’ll be waiting for you at the centre.’
‘No,’ she said, waving a finger at him. ‘I’ll be waiting there for you.’
Marcella proceeded quickly to the first corner, then once out of view of Crispin, halted and went up on tiptoe, trying to see if she could get a sense of the way the pathways were laid out and what might prove the shortest route to the centre.
But the hedges were too tall and grew too thickly together. She would have to proceed by guess.
* * *
Ten minutes later, after being confounded by several dead ends and having to reverse course, her excitement grew as she realised she had to be approaching the centre. She turned one of the ever-tightening corners—and almost collided with Lord Hoddleston.
Stopping short, she stiffened with dislike. Standing before her was the very last person she wanted to meet along the twisting pathways.
‘Lord Hoddleston,’ she said coldly, giving him a curtsy. ‘You must have already found the centre and be making your way out. Don’t let me detain you.’
‘I have, but it’s you I wanted to find. I spied you enter the maze with Dellamont, a number of others following in your wake. Which means I’m sure someone will come upon us shortly.’
As he stepped closer, she stepped away. But he continued until he’d backed her into the corner of one of the pathway’s sharp curves. Truly annoyed now, she said, ‘You may have found the centre, but I have not yet. It’s not sporting of you to restrain me.’
‘Oh, the game’s not been sporting for some time. I admit, Dellamont has carried on his charade of courtship longer than I expected. Which makes me impatient. It’s time to take matters out of his hands—into mine. Since that requires taking you into my hands, I’m quite willing to proceed.’
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