“Good day, my lord.” Though he greeted the new arrival, Julian's gaze stayed on Molly.
“Mm.” A grunt and a sneer was the only greeting Daniel could manage.
“Mr. Crawford arrived not long ago,” Molly explained. “You are welcome to join us, if you would like.” If Julian's frown was any indication, he would not have extended the same offer.
“Am I interrupting something important?”
“Not at all!” Molly insisted. “Honestly, Daniel, you are more than welcome to join us!”
Lord Rocksavage sat on the settee beside Mr. Crawford, though he seemed reluctant to join him. Turning in the other man's direction, he asked, “Do you visit Molly often, Mr. Crawford?”
“Actually, my lord, this is the first time I have called on her, but it certainly won't be the last.” Julian kept his arms crossed; his hidden hands were clenched. “This is only the beginning of our courtship, you see...”
“Courtship?!” Daniel repeated, looking to Molly for confirmation. When she did not deny it, he knew it was true.
And just like that, Lord Rocksavage's world came crashing down.
Chapter Twelve
“I would like you to meet my mother, my lord.”
The sharpness of Miss Crawford's voice promptly ended his reverie. When Lord Rocksavage decided to attend Lady Huffington's ball, he did not expect to spend the entire evening thinking about Molly. The fashionable gathering should have been an opportunity to spend time with Iris, but all he could do was stare across the room. At the opposite end of the ballroom, Molly and Mr. Crawford had been conversing the entire time.
When he saw the woman standing in front of him, he had to summon the willpower to suppress a gasp. She had a beak-like nose, possibly the longest nose he had ever seen. Her turban was covered in so many feathers, it was a wonder she did not take flight. Mrs. Crawford, Iris' mother, strongly resembled a bird.
“Mrs... Crawford.” His greeting was a bit apathetic. “I have heard about you many times.”
“As I have heard of you, Mishter Wocksavage.”
When he heard her lisp, Daniel nearly swallowed his tongue. He was tempted to rub his eyes, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. How could such a ridiculous woman spawn a beauty like Iris Crawford?
“Mama...” Miss Crawford whined. “How many times have I told you? It is Lord Rocksavage! He is a viscount!”
“My apowogees, my ward,” Mrs. Crawford responded. “My dawter hash told me much about you.”
“According to Miss Crawford, you have been feeling under the weather?” Lord Rocksavage asked, and he wondered if her recent illness had anything to do with her strange speech. “You are feeling well, I hope?”
“Whale enough,” Mrs. Crawford replied. “Dough my nosh is shteel howwibly cwogged.”
As he tried to make sense of what she was saying, Daniel was squinting. “Your nose is clogged?”
“Indeed, my ward,” she said. “It is quite annoying.”
“Poor Mama...” Miss Crawford sighed. She laid a gloved hand on her mother's shoulder and gave her a comforting caress. “I told her she should have stayed home! I told her Uncle Julian would suffice, but--”
“Juwian wantsh to shpend time with Mish Moshley. He doesn't need to sphend hish entire evening wooking after you.”
At the mention of Molly's name, Daniel's gaze was pulled, once again, to the opposite side of the room. She was still standing beside Mr. Crawford, of course. He always thought Molly Moseley would be his Molly, as innocent as she was chaste. Nothing had ever threatened that. No one had ever threatened to take her away from him.
Until now.
“Tomorrow, Mother is taking me to the milliner's,” Miss Crawford said. “The last time I was there, I saw the most beautiful hat in the window! It was pale pink, with pleated taffeta silk. It had the most adorable lace trim... oh, but I would not mind to have a new bonnet as well. What do you think, my lord?”
“Hmm?” In truth, he had not heard a word she said.
“About hats,” Miss Crawford continued. “Should I get a bonnet, or should I get something a bit more formal? What sort of hat do you think you would prefer?”
“I am sure any hat would look splendid on you, Miss Crawford,” he soullessly responded. His eyes were locked on Julian Crawford, who had placed a hand on Molly's arm. They had only been acquainted for a short time—why would he act so familiar with her? And in public, no less!
“Did you like the bonnet I wore at the picnic? The one with the blue ribbon?”
Daniel wanted to tell her he cared nothing about hats. He wanted to tell her he had no opinion whatsoever, and that he had never spared a second thought for bonnets. But he held his tongue. “You were very fetching.”
“You are too kind, my lord.”
“Miss Crawford...” As he addressed the daughter, his gaze momentarily landed on the mother. There were immense bags under her glassy eyes, which made him wonder if wellness was a long way off. The poor woman. “Would you care to dance?”
“Absolutely, my lord.”
When he took Miss Crawford's arm and led her to the dance floor, his mind was consumed by a single thought:
Why had he never asked Molly for a dance?
* * *
“Should we be brave, Miss Moseley?” Julian Crawford's whispered words prickled her ears.
“That depends. What would bravery entail?”
“A dance.” A slight smirk tipped his lips. Molly swore it was the first time she saw any semblance of a smile on his face. “More bravery is required on your part, since I cannot promise I will not tread on your feet.”
“Do you want to dance, Mr. Crawford?” Molly asked. “I thought we both agreed to spare each other the misery of a dance?”
“We did. However, the next dance is a waltz.” His grin broadened. “The prospect of holding you close to me is rather tempting.”
“As tempting as it might be, I am afraid I will have to decline. The waltz makes me dizzy.”
Despite his distaste for dancing, Julian was disheartened by her rejection, but he tried to hide any trace of disappointment from his face. “What do you enjoy, if not dancing? I would like to know more about you.”
“What would you like to know?” Molly briefly turned her attention to the dance floor, where she spotted Lord Rocksavage with Miss Crawford. The more time she spent with Julian Crawford, the less she seemed to care. Molly certainly would not miss her heart's aching. “I am afraid I might be boring.”
“Then we have something in common. I am terrified because I know I am boring!”
“Wonderful. Then we can spend our days boring each other to death!” Molly teased him. “In all honesty, I enjoy a great number of things. Painting. Reading. Writing. Horseback riding, and--”
“Horses, Miss Moseley?” he interrupted. “I would have never guessed.”
“But of course! I have always had an affinity for horses. When we were younger, Daniel and I always used to--” When she mentioned Daniel's name, her voice died.
“Daniel is... Lord Rocksavage?” Julian noted the change in her disposition—and he did not like it. The truth had been painfully obvious since the first day he met her. Molly Moseley's feelings for his niece's beau were more than mere friendship.
“Yes... Lord Rocksavage,” Molly said with a sigh. “As I was saying, when we were younger, we used to go riding all the time. Some of my best friends were horses.”
“That must be inconvenient when you want to invite them to the garden for tea,” Julian quipped. “Your equine friends would trample the flowers.”
“True. Not to mention, their sugar consumption is simply outrageous!”
“I can imagine.”
Now there was a full-fledged smile on Julian's lips, and Molly reveled in the sight of it. He was such a stern man. Making him smile felt like a small victory.
Once again, Molly's gaze fell on Lord Rocksavage, but not because she sought him out. Daniel and Miss Crawford happened to be head
ing in their direction.
As they moved closer, Molly could hear Iris say, “We have danced two times now, my lord. If you dance with me again, people will think we have an understanding!”
Molly tugged on Julian's sleeve, so he brought his head closer to hers. Into his ear, she whispered, “Do you think your niece will marry Lord Rocksavage?”
“You mean Daniel?” Julian murmured his rival's name with a sigh. Whether he knew it or not, Lord Rocksavage was his rival. Anyone with a hold on Molly's heart was worth keeping an eye on. “I think she is very fond of him.”
“She has many suitors,” Molly noted.
“Indeed she does. But I believe she is most smitten with your friend.” Julian studied Molly's face, waiting for her to react. “Would it please you if they were to marry?”
“I... suppose.”
“You were the one who pushed Lord Rocksavage in her direction, were you not?” Julian inquired. With a twinkle in his eye, he added, “Miss Matchmaker.”
Suddenly, Miss Crawford and Lord Rocksavage were standing in front of them, which postponed Molly's reply.
“Julian!” Iris addressed her uncle a bit sharply. “You have been at Miss Moseley's side the entire night! You should share your company with the rest of us!”
“Should I?” Julian's hand landed on his hip. “I was rather enjoying her monopoly on my company.”
Miss Crawford flashed an affected smile at Molly. She wondered if the young woman's smile ever reached her eyes. “He has been on his best behavior, I hope?”
“Of course,” Molly replied. “Your uncle is a good man.”
When Molly made eye contact with Daniel, she caught him staring at her, and his gaze did not waver. His eyes were burning down on her, searing—and yet they chilled her from the inside out. Why was he looking at her in such a way?
“Daniel...” Molly's lips trembled as she uttered his name.
“Molly...”
“You are having a pleasant time, I hope?”
“Very. Yes.”
After their strained greeting, Molly swore she could feel her heart deflate. Was he so invested in Miss Crawford that he had lost all his warmth? Had they already become strangers to each other? It was a disheartening thought, to say the least.
“Well,” Miss Crawford spoke up, “we wanted to make sure we greeted you before the night was over. You are, after all, two of our favorite people!”
Our favorite people? Iris was already speaking on Daniel's behalf, as if they were a single entity, and that fact made Molly's stomach churn. Holding her chin up, she replied, “And you, of course, are two of our favorite people.” Molly glanced in Julian's direction and caught him grinning.
Seizing Lord Rocksavage's sleeve, Miss Crawford said, “Well, we should get back to Mama. I am sure she expects me to return.”
“Indeed, Miss Crawford. Lead the way.” As they turned away, Lord Rocksavage stared at Molly over his shoulder. He wanted to keep her in view as long as he could. “Good evening, Miss Moseley.”
Miss Moseley? She could not remember the last time he had addressed her in such a formal manner. Bobbing a curtsy, she responded with a very rigid, “My lord.” When they were gone, she expelled a tremendous sigh.
Mr. Crawford's next comment surprised her. “You care for him, don't you?”
“P-pardon?!” Molly gasped. “I... I do not know what you mean, Mr. Crawford. I care for him as a friend, but--”
“Unfortunately, your feelings for him are painstakingly obvious,” Julian said. “Even more obvious is the fact that he cares for you as well.”
“He cares for Miss Crawford,” Molly corrected him. “Your niece.”
“So you say... but I know better.” Julian could feel his timidity returning, crippling is eloquence. His jaw was twitching, his hands were perspiring—and suddenly, his cravat was entirely too tight. “However, I will not give up. I refuse to be deterred by such an arrogant adversary.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Pay no attention to the ramblings of a fool.” At the moment, Julian was having a difficult time expressing himself, but he knew what was in his heart.
Molly Moseley wanted a grand romance.
Julian Crawford was determined to give her exactly what she wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
Dear Madeline,
I never thought I would say this, but I believe I have a tendre for someone who isn't Lord Rocksavage. With each passing day, I find myself more and more fascinated by Julian Crawford. I will admit that I did not think much of him at first. When we first met, he was so quiet, I thought he had no personality. I cannot begin to tell you how wrong I was! The more I get to know him, the more I enjoy his company. He is a handsome, kind, witty, warm-hearted, clever man. I am sure he would be a wonderful husband, the sort of man who would dedicate his life to protecting and adoring his wife.
However, I am not sure I could see myself married to him. Perhaps I should not even spare a thought for such a thing... after all, it is not as if I know his intentions. However, if he IS courting me because he hopes to one day marry me, how will I react? It is difficult to imagine myself as any man's wife, particularly a man who is not Daniel. When I was younger, I confess I spent a great deal of time wondering what it would be like to be Lady Rocksavage. Me, a viscountess?! That thought is too ludicrous for words!
I may be getting ahead of myself, but what if Mr. Crawford proposed? What would I say? I can see no reason why I should not accept his offer. Perhaps I am not in love with him, but he seems amiable enough, and my affection for him is constantly growing. In time, I am sure I would realise he is more than worthy of my love. Sometimes, I even imagine what it would be like if Daniel proposed. That would never happen, of course, but it never hurts to dream. As unlikely as it is, I am sure I would accept. Does that make me pitiful? I am still pining for a man who has long since forgotten me. I
When she heard tapping on the window pane, Molly immediately lowered her quill. It was such a windy night, she assumed the tapping was caused by the branches of a nearby tree. However, the sound persisted erratically, and she saw no sign of the tree's branches scraping the glass.
A tiny pebble scuttled across the window, making Molly leap from her chair. She ran to the window, threw it open, and stuck her head outside.
The truth was shocking.
Mr. Crawford was standing below her second story window with a handful of pebbles.
“Mr. Crawford, what on earth are you doing?!” Molly gasped. “Do you have any idea what time it is?! It is nearly midnight! If my grandmother sees you...”
“I am romancing you, Molly,” Julian explained, and with that, he took a gallant bow. “I am your Romeo.”
“My Romeo?!” Molly touched her hair, which was spilling over her shoulders in cascading waves. Without her traditional bun, she felt naked. “Are you foxed?!”
“Of course not!” Julian laughed. “I have all my wits about me, I assure you. Since you expressed your love for Romeo and Juliet, I thought we could recreate the balcony scene.”
“Really?” Molly plucked a shawl from the nearby vanity and wrapped it around her shoulders. Ever since she opened the window, she had invited a chill into her bedchamber. Not to mention, she was wearing her nightrail. As if their midnight encounter wasn't scandalous enough! “Well, I would not want to ruin your fun, Mr. Crawford. By all means, proceed.”
“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks.” As he recited lines from Shakespeare's play, Julian clasped a hand to his chest. “Molly is the... the east and... I am the... the sun.”
“I do not think you have that line entirely correct, Mr. Crawford,” Molly said with a chuckle.
“Blast!” he cursed. “I should have studied the play before I arrived, so as to not mangle my lines. How does it go?”
Molly closed her eyes and recited from memory. “It is the east and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale wit
h grief... that thou her maid art far more fair than she.”
Julian scratched his head. “Yes. That is precisely what I meant to say!”
“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand,” Molly continued. To illustrate her words, she cupped her palm against her cheek. “O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.”
“You aren't wearing gloves.”
Molly rolled her eyes at him, even though he was not near enough to see the gesture. “Indeed, I am not.”
“Well, you are clearly much better at this than I am,” Julian commended her. “I am a failure as a Romeo.”
“Romeo? Who is Romeo? I am not familiar with anyone by that name.” With a twinkle in her eye, she bellowed, “Mr. Crawford, Mr. Crawford... wherefore art thou, Mr. Crawford?”
“Mr. Crawford?! That sounds a bit... stilted. Perhaps you should start calling me Julian, at least until the night is over?”
“Very well.” Molly took a deep breath and recited again, “Julian, Julian. Wherefore art thou, Julian?” As soon as she uttered the words, her nose involuntarily wrinkled. “No, that is not much of an improvement. Julian sounds too similar to Juliet.”
“Then mayhaps we should switch roles, fair damsel?” Julian suggested. “Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
“I am quite fond of Julian,” Molly said. “The name, as well as the gentleman.”
“Are you saying you are fond of me, dearest Molly?”
“Certainly. I hold you in the highest regard.”
Julian started eyeing the nearby tree. He wondered if he, like Romeo, could climb to his paramour's side. “I must look like a fool right now... approaching you at such an obscene hour.”
“You could never look foolish. Do not doubt yourself, Julian. It is a romantic gesture, even if it is a bit... peculiar.”
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