by Amelia Grey
“Oh, I know.”
Marlena rose from her chair. “They’re beautiful and lyrical.”
It was Justine’s time to say a very noncommittal, “Mmm.”
Marlena could have added that the garden, the study of flowers helped fill the days in her life, but she wasn’t sure that her cousin would understand. If Justine was thinking about Justine, she needed nothing else to occupy her time.
Being a widow with an adequate allowance, Justine had freedoms not afforded to Marlena and more things to occupy her time. She could attend parties, teas, or an afternoon of card game. Marlena must wait until she made her curtsy before the Queen and made her debut before she would be accepted at any of the social gatherings.
She and her cousin were very different in so many ways. Marlena would love to live on a sprawling estate somewhere in the countryside and have a garden so large it would take her half a day to walk through it. And she’d be happy to do it, winter or summer. She’d make sure the grounds were completely filled with shrubs, trees, plants, and flowers of every kind and color she could find. There would be arches, trellises, and waterfalls built into the landscape. Statues of the Three Graces, the four seasons, and plenty of cherubs, too. She would have a formal garden, a knot garden, and a field of wildflowers at the end.
Just thinking about it made her smile.
Perhaps a garden was something she should ask about when considering a husband. And she supposed she’d have to soon start thinking about the possibility of getting married. If the duke were to have his way. Though she truly had no interest yet in doing so. Marlena’s foot started tapping at the thought of it. Surely she’d be happy living with a man and being his wife, if he had a lovely garden where she could go every day—as long as he didn’t mind her helping the gardener check the soil, cut the flowers, and pull a stubborn weed or two.
“It’s not wintry outside today, Justine,” Marlena decided to argue politely. “It looks quite pleasant, and I’d never suggest you read any of my materials on flowers.”
“Thank heavens.”
“But I do think a little fresh air will do you good. You seem overwrought.”
“You’re right. I suppose I am. The duke knows I was the diamond of the Season, that we danced, more than once. Probably. It’s simply unforgivable he’s making me wait so long to see him again and renew our acquaintance and tell me his intentions for me—and you, of course. Maybe I will walk next door and say hello to Veronica and Mr. Portington and see his latest fossils, urns, tapestries, or whatever oddities have come in. I’m sure he has some since last I was there. He always does. At least the things he buys are interesting to look at and he knows how to pronounce them.”
Tut’s ears had perked up at the mention of Veronica and fossils. He rose and barked at Marlena, his tail quivering excitedly. If anyone was going next door, he wanted to go, too.
“That’s a lovely idea. You know the sisters enjoy your visits. Perhaps Veronica has been to a party recently and has some interesting news to share with you that you can share with me.”
“That would be a nice change from talking about the duke, wouldn’t it? Yes. I think I will go over there.”
“She does seem to know the latest on-dits. And with her husband’s family being related to the Duke of Norfolk she does get invited to more dinners than most. I’m always pleased when she invites me to be her companion. Would you like to join me this afternoon?”
Marlena looked down at her writings. She didn’t even have the opening sentence worked out. “No, thank you. Not this time. I’ll finish what I’m working on.”
“Dull as it might be,” Justine said under her breath.
Marlena heard and took no offense. Her cousin’s ire over her writing was to Marlena’s advantage.
“No doubt you’re writing about flowers again,” her cousin said in a normal voice.
“I do believe Tut would like to go with you,” Marlena said, putting the quill in its stand and rising from her chair. “If you don’t mind. You know how he enjoys sniffing around Mr. Portington’s latest crates.”
“I suppose I can take him with me, but I won’t be carrying him the way you do. He’ll have to walk.”
Did Justine really think that after almost three years of living with her Marlena didn’t know that Justine had never once picked up Tut, rubbed his back, patted his head, or even offered to let him out in the back garden for a scratch, sniff, and search around the grounds? But it was best not to say anything and ignore Justine’s comment. Now that she’d decided to go next door for a little while, Marlena didn’t want to hinder her with more chatter and delay her.
“He really prefers to walk anyway so he can do a little exploring along the way.”
“You will send for me immediately if the duke arrives.”
“I promise to send Mrs. Doddle for you.”
Chapter 7
He could be a rake if he brings a young lady a gift she can’t show to her mother.
MISS HONORA TRUTH’S WORDS OF WISDOM AND WARNING ABOUT RAKES, SCOUNDRELS, ROGUES, AND LIBERTINES
A few minutes after Justine and Tut left, Marlena had finally settled on the first few lines of her article. It was so much easier to concentrate when she had silence. But after a few more sentences, she decided Justine had disturbed her thoughts so much she needed to take a walk in the back garden herself. Sometimes during the winter months it was difficult to come up with new gossip because most of Society wintered at their country estates. The parties in London were few. At those times she’d rely on a new twist to an old story to get her past the weeks neither Veronica nor Justine had anything new to tell her.
She supposed that is what she’d have to do today.
Usually she’d have the sheet finished and given to Eugenia before dark but she wasn’t sure that would happen. Not that it mattered much either way. Marlena could always use what they called their night plan. There was a side gate in the fence between their two houses. They often stopped there to chat, or to exchange books or other things during the day. It was also where, when necessary, their clandestine meetings took place.
When the scandal sheet was finished, Marlena would light a lamp in her bedchamber before taking Tut out for the last time in the evening. That was Eugenia’s sign that Marlena would be waiting at the gate for her with article in hand. Since it was a weekly sheet and not a daily one, as Mr. Trout had wanted her to do, their timing always seemed to work out. On the rare occasions they needed to have a nighttime exchange, it hadn’t been a problem.
Marlena opened the desk drawer, slipped her sheet of musings inside, and closed it. After capping the ink jar, she headed toward the back door to don her cape and gloves. Just after entering the corridor she heard a knock at the front door.
She stopped and listened. Her heart pounding in her ears was the only thing she heard.
Could it be the duke? Justine’s friend Lady Westerbrook? It could even be Mr. Bramwell since he lived next door.
Mrs. Doddle came out of the kitchen with flour on her hands, her apron, and her face.
“I’ll get that for you,” she told the housekeeper.
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Doddle asked. “It won’t take me long to clean my hands.”
“I’m sure,” she answered, realizing there was a knot of anticipation in her stomach. “You continue making the bread.”
After several deep breaths and much more expectancy than she should be feeling Marlena walked to the front door and opened it. She caught the duke with his hand midair, obviously ready to hit the door knocker again. He smiled at her and she would have sworn to anyone in the world that her heart flipped over in her chest.
There couldn’t be a man alive who was more handsome than the one standing before her in a three-tiered black cloak, his white neckcloth showing above it, looking as dashing, dangerous, and devilish as the rogues she wrote about. Feminine desires Marlena hadn’t known existed until she’d met the duke made themselves known again. Her pulse increased r
apidly, her breaths grew short, and her lower abdomen clinched reflexively.
He removed his hat and said, “Miss Fast.”
She curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“May I come in?” he asked with a hint of humor in his tone. “Or should we stand on the steps for a few minutes and converse as we did the last time I was here?”
So as she remembered, he was a man who liked to tease and obviously not one to hold a grudge, either. She could accept that quite nicely. What she didn’t know was if she could handle the fast beating of her heart and the womanly desires curling inside her every time she saw him.
“Well, it is an unusually sunny afternoon,” she answered in the same light tone and easy smile he used. She deliberately looked past him to see a light-blue sky above the rooftops. “And it’s so near springtime there are probably a few bees buzzing about in the garden. I know of no reason for us to hurry inside, except I believe my cousin would be quite perturbed with me if I didn’t insist you join me in the drawing room without delay.”
“Then I shall.”
Marlena opened the door wider, stepped aside, and allowed him to enter. That’s when she noticed he was holding an unusual package. Something about the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in white lace and tied with a fancy blue ribbon.
She shut the door behind him and said, “Allow me to take your hat and cloak.”
“I’ll handle it.”
He put his hat and the package on the side table and swung his expensive-looking woolen cloak off his wide shoulders, laying it beside the hat. He wore a dark-brown wool coat and a lighter-brown waistcoat. His neckcloth didn’t seem to be tied any better than it had been the last time she saw him, but there was something about the careless bow that added to his charm. Most gentlemen were very precise in how their neckcloths were secured, but obviously that wasn’t a concern for this duke. That more relaxed appearance appealed to her.
“I expected Tut to meet me at the door,” he said, looking down the corridor past her. “He must be in the back garden.”
“No,” she said, pleased that he’d missed her beloved pet and expected to see him. “He’s with my cousin visiting a neighbor.”
The duke then picked up the package and said, “This is for you, Miss Fast.”
Marlena looked at it. Flowers, confections, and books were about the only gifts appropriate to give a young lady, and this didn’t appear to be any of those things. But no matter that, she was fairly certain that nothing should be wrapped in such a fine stitching of lace. She reluctantly took it from his hands.
It wasn’t heavy, so it couldn’t be books. In fact, it was very light. Confections, she would have thought, but still asked, “What is it?”
“Why don’t we go into the drawing room and you can open it and see for yourself?”
“All right.”
The corridor wasn’t long but it was wide and the duke walked right beside her. Though their shoulders never brushed, she felt his warmth, sensed his strength, and matched the determination with which he took every step.
At the entrance to the drawing room she stopped, looked up at him, and said, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Your Grace, I need to ask Mrs. Doddle to go next door and let my cousin know you’re here. She’s been most anxious to talk to you again.”
“Again?” he questioned. “I don’t believe I met her the last time I was here.”
“No, you didn’t. Not then. She says the two of you met some time ago. A few years, I think. And danced. She’s recently seen you at some parties as well.”
He seemed to study on that. “I’m not sure I remember her. Mr. Olingworth only said that your widowed cousin was your companion. What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Justine Abernathy.”
He gave her another slight smile. “If she says we’ve met, I’m sure I’ll remember her when I see her.”
“Make yourself comfortable inside. I’ll return shortly.”
Marlena stared down at the package as she walked into the kitchen. She decided it had to be fruit tarts. As for the lace covering, perhaps that’s how dukes chose to wrap their gifts. Though it was still extravagant.
“Mrs. Doddle?”
The woman looked up from the kitchen table where she was thoroughly working a mound of dough. “Yes, miss. Do you need me?”
“I’d like for you to go over to Mrs. Portington’s house and tell Mrs. Abernathy the duke is here.” And then, having no idea as to why, her hands tightened on the lace box and she added, “Please feel free to finish what you’re doing first.”
“Thank you, miss. I’d like to get this in the bowl to rise. And then I’ll go as soon as I can wash.”
Marlena nodded and headed back to the drawing room feeling as if she’d done something decidedly wicked and yet feeling quite giddy about it at the same time. She’d deliberately given herself more time alone with the duke before Justine returned. Which, of course, was an utterly ridiculous thing to do!
It was impulsive, too, but she couldn’t bring herself to be upset that she’d done it.
In truth, the less time she spent with the duke, the better for her. She must remember he was the main gentleman she wrote about in her scandal sheet. She must be careful around him at all times, and manipulating a reason to be alone with him, no matter the length of time, was the last thing she should be doing.
Reprimanding herself about it didn’t help, either. She still wasn’t sorry she’d done it.
The duke stood in front of the fireplace when she walked inside the drawing room and heaven help her, she swore her heart flipped again at the sight of him. He stood tall, comfortable, and so divinely inviting. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him.
She would have to do something drastic to change her unexpected feelings and desires. So she walked straight over to him, extended the package, and said, “I thank you, Your Grace, but I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to receive a gift from you.”
A wrinkle formed along the top of his brows. “I am your guardian.”
“Still, I don’t think I should accept.”
He relaxed his stance and continued to gaze into her eyes, clearly not wanting to give up without a fight. “It’s not a personal item, Miss Fast. It’s a necessity.”
That sounded rather odd to her. “A necessity?” she questioned. “What does that mean?”
He folded his arms across his chest and gave the kind of roguish grin she’d seen on the faces of the pirates she’d seen in paintings. And it was tantalizing.
“I guess you’re going to have to open it and find out.”
Marlena sighed. “You aren’t making this easy for me, but all right.” She pulled on the ribbon and the lace fell away from a plain tin box. After dropping the ribbon and lace onto a nearby chair she took the lid off and was immediately struck by such strong scents they almost took her breath away. There were several little satin pillows and three beautiful, colorful bottles of perfume.
Stunned, she looked up at him. “Contrary to what you think, perfume is not a necessity for a lady. Nor is it appropriate. I can’t accept this from you and you should realize that.”
The wrinkle suddenly extended to between his eyebrows and deepened. His bit of smile faded. “The only thing not appropriate about the package was me walking down the street to my carriage carrying it, but I did for you. Besides, it’s not perfume, Miss Fast. It’s smelling salts. I thought you might benefit from having some on hand in case Miss Everard faints again.”
“Smelling salts come in a small clear or brown vial with a plain cork stopper, not in a beautifully shaped crystal bottle with a silver closure!”
The duke shrugged in a noncommittal way. “I suppose that depends on whether you go to an apothecary’s shop for it or a la—” The duke stopped abruptly for a second or two and then continued. “Or a different kind of shop. It doesn’t matter where they came from. I assure you they are smelling salts.”
In what appeared to be one seamless motion he re
ached down, picked up one of the bottles, pulled out the stopper, and waved it swiftly under Marlena’s nose.
A strong, offensive whiff assailed her. “Heavens!” She quickly turned her head away but not before her eyes watered and she coughed. “What is that?”
“Mostly ammonia, I would assume. Now do you believe me when I say it’s not perfume?” he asked, replacing the top and settling the bottle back between the sachet pillows again.
Marlena coughed again. “You—you have vividly made your point, Your Grace, but there are three bottles and at least four or five sachets in here. How many did you think I needed?”
“I don’t know,” he said innocently.
He was impossible. “Well, let me enlighten you. This is enough for almost every house on this street to have one.”
Seeming to remain quite comfortable with the conversation as it was going, he said, “Miss Everard faints a lot.”
“No,” Marlena said, wanting to stomp her foot in frustration at the imposing man. She managed to resist the urge. “I told you she really doesn’t. Except that one time.”
“Twice,” he reminded her as one side of his mouth lifted with an attractive grin again. “She fainted twice.”
“All right,” Marlena agreed, reluctantly, and found herself giving in to a smile as well. “But the second time she woke with a strange man carrying her in his arms. I’m sure that would unsettle anyone.”
“She seemed terrified.”
He was right, but that was one admission Marlena would take to her grave. “She was dazed.” Which was also true.
“Then perhaps she simply needs to eat more, Miss Fast. She’s slight and fragile-looking. She hardly weighs more than a few feathers. It might do her good to go into the garden with you once in a while and get some natural color to her cheeks as you have. Whether or not it’s fashionable to do so.”
Marlena lifted a hand to her face, and her fingers caressed her cheeks.
“Yes,” he said softly, his dark-brown gaze sweeping slowly up and down her face. He stepped closer to her. “You look as if someone dipped a paintbrush in gold dust and skimmed it across your cheeks.”