Rhonda Woodward Read online

  Marina bit her tongue for a moment before replying. Her humiliation did not come from Mr. Sefton’s caddish behavior. No, Sefton had her contempt, her disappointment. This gnawing feeling of mortification came straight from the odiously condescending Marquis of Cortland. That he had known of Mr. Sefton’s perfidy all along, and had been laughing at her could hardly be borne.

  “I do not find Miss Brandon foolish, only very hurt and disillusioned. I do not blame her.”

  “She will get over it soon enough. At least she sees him as the dowry-hunting jackanapes he is. No doubt he’s already looking around for another fortune to woo.”

  “I’m sure he still has hopes of hunting mine,” she said with more acid in her tone than she ever recalled using. “My portion is not quite forty thousand, but a bird in the hand as they say.”

  He dropped the reins and moved to step in front of her, causing her to halt abruptly.

  “Would you care to explain why you seem so angry?” His expression was impassive, his tone polite, but his eyes smoldered dangerously in the overcast light.

  She glared back, feeling her anger growing as the last few minutes continued to sink in. “How can you ask? From the moment you arrived, you knew of Sefton’s intention to elope with your cousin. Every time you saw him speaking to me, or . . . or waltzing with me, or whispering to me in the church, you knew he was false and you didn’t say a word.”

  He took a step closer, watching her face intently, his arching black brows furrowed. “In truth, Miss Buckleigh? All this heat from one moonlit waltz and a few cow-eyed looks?”

  “Ooh,” she gasped in rage, clasping her hands tight within her muff. “You are insufferably arrogant. When you came onto the terrace and found me dancing with Mr. Sefton, you knew what he was and said nothing.”

  His frown grew fiercer, his gaze moved to her lips as she threw this at him. “True. I challenged him, but he refused to meet me on the field of honor. The coward.” The amusement had left his voice, replaced with a bite.

  “A duel? I have heard you are fond of the activity. You told me before that you do nothing unless it ensures your pleasure or amusement. You’ve certainly proved it, my lord.”

  The cool, unperturbed expression returned but a dangerous gleam lurked in his eyes and she could not look away. Her breath came faster as her anger continued to grow. She felt mortified, worse, she felt inexplicably hurt. How stupidly foolish she had been to think that beneath the odd tension that existed between them there had been something else—a kind of strange understanding.

  He took a step closer, but she held her ground and suddenly felt engulfed by the sheer maleness of him. Her gaze took in his broad shoulders, narrow waist, traveling down to buckskins that did nothing to hide heavily muscled thighs. Quickly, she brought her eyes back to his, feeling breathless and angry and strangely exhilarated. It wasn’t only the chill wind that made her shiver.

  “My dear Miss Buckleigh,” his low voice vibrated through her body. “I couldn’t share the whole ridiculous tale with you; you didn’t know me from Adam. But from our first conversation, I knew you were not taken in by his honeyed words.”

  The ache in her heart increased at the mild amusement in his words and she took refuge and relief in the towering anger driving her to lash out.

  “Did you? All along, you have not bothered to hide your enjoyment of this appalling situation. And I was in the dark. I could have been in love with him. Never in my life have I been treated so shabbily and I will never forgive you for it.”

  She paused and took a deep breath, shocking herself by throwing her muff to the side. It was either that or throw it at him, and she’d already lost too much of her dignity.

  In a flash, his powerful arms were around her body. She gasped, stunned beyond measure at the sudden intimacy of his hard body against hers, but she did not pull away.

  His eyes roamed her face. “Such is your beauty and manner that for the rest of your life dandies and beaux will trip themselves to flatter you. Why would I blame you for enjoying yourself? But do not lie to yourself or me by saying you could have been in love with that whelp.”

  Before she could absorb the full meaning of his words, his warm lips were on hers, shocking her to the core of her being. The world swirled and she closed her eyes against the dizzying feeling, snaking her arms around his neck as if that was where they were meant to be. Firmly, gently, his lips moved over hers, slanting them open. She felt one hand move to the small of her back, drawing her closer.

  Deeply, searchingly, his lips held hers in such an intimate caress her knees trembled. Slowly, a nameless need melted through her body, warming her, settling heavily in the pit of her stomach. Shifting again, his arms tightened even more, bearing most of her weight as she surrendered to growing passion.

  Mindlessly, her hands traveled down well-muscled arms then back up to his shoulders and around his neck. Needing more, she arched against him and felt rather than heard his muffled groan.

  The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, hungry. Exploring, demanding his lips drew from her sensations and emotions that held her in thrall. Time evaporated and she continued to kiss him back, reveling in the heady feelings.

  Only when his hand came up to the side of her breast did she pause, feeling a distant alarm. As if sensing the change, he pulled back slightly, dragging his lips from hers.

  “Marina—”

  The sound of her name so huskily spoken made her pause, and with half-open eyes, she stared into his passion-filled gaze. As much as her vanity, even pride, may have been hurt over Sefton’s perfidy, this was something else.

  Breathing heavily, she stared into his striking eyes with a sense of wonder. Nothing in her life had prepared her for even the possibility of this stirring need, this wordless want. This feeling was worlds away from moonlit waltzes and starlit skies. This overwhelming feeling had everything to do with him.

  He continued to gaze at her with smoldering, confident eyes, and the chill wind brought a wave of self-consciousness.

  She was Miss Buckleigh of Parsley Hay, he was Lord Cortland of gambling and duels, and scandalizing his family to the point of being cut off.

  Lord Cortland, cool and unflappable, always standing back and watching them all with barely concealed amusement, held her against his hard body.

  Still wrapped in his arms, she knew he felt the pounding of her heart. It hit her how dreadfully out of depth she was and she had no clue how to reach the shore. She may have looked silly over Sefton, but something deep within her warned that she was in real danger with this man.

  She pulled away, praying she wouldn’t stumble on her weak knees.

  Somehow, within her dazed thoughts, she understood that it was not concern for her reputation that made her pull away from Lord Cortland the way she pulled away from Sefton during their waltz. Primal fear of being hurt in a way she instinctively knew she could never recover from made her jerk from his arms.

  Gathering her self-control and dignity with a ragged breath, she wished she could think of something cutting that would leave him speechless.

  “Lord Cortland, this situation is completely untenable. I have nothing more to say to you, and you certainly have nothing to say to me.” Her voice caught at the sharp pang of loss that seemed to come from nowhere.

  Speculation now gleamed in his eyes. “That is not at all how I see the situation, but we’ll leave it at that for today.”

  She turned from the easy, confident voice, unable to reply.

  It took all her will not to run.

  When she finally reached the manicured hedges that bordered the formal garden, she could not stop herself from turning to look back. Her heart lurched when she saw him still standing where she left him, next to his horse, his head bare.

  He was too far to see his expression, but even from this distance, she could see his proud, powerful stance. She now knew what that power felt like, and her heart pounded anew.

  With effortless ease, he swung on to his
horse as if he’d been watching to ensure she returned home safely before he rode away.

  But Marina did not immediately return to the house. Confusion kept her walking through the formal gardens for some time, her head spinning with what had transpired in the last hour.

  Raising trembling fingers to her lips, she wondered if she looked as different as she felt.

  Lord Cortland had kissed her, and she had kissed him back.

  For those few moments, before the world had intruded, it had felt amazingly wonderful to be held and kissed by him—to feel his desire and to feel her own surge to match his.

  She pushed these overwhelming thoughts away, telling herself she had more immediate problems.

  Like what to say to Lady Meredith about why her daughter had not returned with her.

  Knowing she could wait no longer, she entered the house and crossed the foyer, pausing before the drawing room door to remove her bonnet. With a poise born from desperate panic, she put a pleasant smile on her face and swept into the room, almost losing her nerve when they all turned to look at her.

  “Why, Marina, where is Miss Brandon?” her mother asked in surprise.

  “We met Mr. Penhurst and Lord Cortland on our walk—they were coming to call—but Miss Brandon began to feel a bit ill and so the gentlemen offered to escort her home. They send their compliments, Mama.”

  “Oh?” Mama looked at her closely but said nothing more.

  Marina smiled at Lady Darley and Lady Meredith. The latter gave her such a sharply penetrating look that Marina was sure she suspected a fib.

  Deirdre sent her an odd look and pulling her gaze away, Marina sank into a curtsy. “Please excuse me, but my boots got quite damp and I should change.”

  “Of course, my dear,” her mother said with a nod.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Meredith, Lady Darley.” She smiled brightly as the ladies acknowledged her farewell with smiles.

  With great effort, she left the room at a serene pace. Once the door closed behind her, she ran across the foyer and up the stairs.

  ***

  Marina managed to avoid her family for the rest of the day, claiming a headache from walking too long in the cold. During supper, the conversation was solely on the preparations for the hunt, which was now only two days away. Marina was most grateful for Papa’s steady conversation for she could think of nothing to say. Before long, she excused herself to go to bed early.

  During the night, she lay awake in the firelit darkness of her bedchamber and found it easier to stay angry with Lord Cortland than to dwell on her unexpected feelings.

  After all, the kiss meant nothing to him. There had been such confidence in his kiss, she recalled with a shiver. And she was not such a green girl as to believe he had not shared intimacies with any number of women.

  Lord Cortland was a rakehell and a cad—well, not a cad exactly, in all fairness, she would leave that insult to Sefton—but disdainful and arrogant. He would rather watch her make a cake of herself, as if enjoying a play, than have told her the truth about Sefton. This galled her deeply.

  Before exhausted sleep finally claimed her, she sent up a near-incoherent prayer that Mr. Penhurst’s guests would cut their visit short and take themselves off, never to be seen again.

  The next morning, with a new resolve to behave with dignity and circumspection, Marina bathed and dressed in a lavender-gray morning gown and made her way downstairs.

  Papa was not at breakfast, which was not unusual for this sporting time of year. Mama and Deirdre talked of all the ladies they would entertain while the men rode to hounds in a few days, but Marina felt too subdued to join the discussion and only picked at her breakfast. Despite her resolve, she could hardly think of anything but yesterday’s disturbing events.

  Reliving the moments when Lord Cortland held her so close brought a fresh wave of heat to her face. How dared he, the dreadful man!

  She could not look on her own behavior without a hot blush, and could only add to his list of offenses that he had the vexing ability to bring out the worst of her character.

  Holmes came in to interrupt her thoughts, and with great ceremony usually reserved for honored guests, he intoned, “Miss Marina, his Lordship would like to see you in his library as soon as may be.”

  Marina felt herself gape at the butler, then turned a baffled, questioning eye to Mama.

  “Goodness my love, your bemused expression does you credit.” Her smile was conspiratorial, furthering Marina’s confusion. “Now run along, do not keep your father waiting.”

  Deirdre giggled and said, “Aren’t you excited, Marina?”

  “I daresay I might be if I knew what was going on.” She left the breakfast room and took the main hallway to the library, which acted as her father’s office as well.

  Never before had he stood on such ceremony with his daughters. A sneaking guilt over her behavior with Lord Cortland had her feeling apprehensive. What if one of their neighbors had perchance to see her in his arms yesterday?

  That could not be it, she decided, for Mama would not have looked so pleased a moment ago.

  Upon entering the large room, she saw him seated behind his large desk, fingers steepled, obviously waiting for her. “You wished to see me, Papa?” No matter how she tried, she could not quash her nervousness at her father’s unprecedented behavior.

  “Yes, my love, sit, sit,” he gestured to the wing chair in front of the desk. “I see you are confused, but I considered that this occasion warranted some formality.”

  She took the seat and waited. Papa was in a rare mood, she had never seen such a look on his handsome face—a mixture of pleasure, mixed with graveness.

  “Yesterday was one of the busiest days I have ever experienced. I had no less than three callers, wishing a private audience with me.”

  “Oh?”

  “It is not often a father has the bittersweet pleasure of receiving his daughter’s suitors.”

  “Suitors?” She could not quite believe that this was not some sort of strange tease.

  “Indeed. I defy my good friends, Mr. Tundale and Mr. Hollings, to be able to make such a boast.”

  Marina stared at her father, trying to puzzle together his words. “I do not understand, Papa. Did you say three suitors?”

  “Yes, one right after the other. By the time the third one left, I’d become quite an old hand at it.”

  “But who? I can’t imagine . . . ,” she trailed off. Henry Willingham must more than likely be one of the three. Could Mr. Sefton have the effrontery to be one of the others? After her encounter with Miss Brandon, Marina could believe him shameless enough to try.

  As for the third gentleman to visit Papa yesterday—she refused to let her chaotic thoughts go any further.

  “Your modesty does you credit. The first young gentleman to seek an audience was Henry Willingham, though that should not be such a surprise to you, seeing how fond you two have always been of each other.”

  “No, I can’t say that Henry Willingham is a complete surprise.”

  Papa nodded with some satisfaction. “He certainly expressed himself as he ought. But the next man to be announced took me by surprise, Marina. On the strength of a tour of the church and one dance here at our ball, Mr. Nigel Sefton has expressed his desire to pay his addresses to you. Yes, you should look surprised.”

  “Mr. Sefton!” She could not continue to meet his fondly proud gaze. “I hardly know what to say.”

  “His family, of course is one of the finest, and I have no objection to his manners. Being a younger son is a disadvantage, but it seems he has a respectable manor house and income from a small farm on the family estate in Kent.”

  “Oh? I did not know.”

  “Hmmm, yes, but we shall leave Mr. Sefton for a moment as we come to the third gentleman. I confess this one surprised me the most. Have you a notion of who your third suitor is?”

  “If you tell me it’s Lord Cortland, I’ll suspect some sort of hoax,” she blurted out
before she thought better of it.

  Papa frowned and sat up a little straighter. “Lord Cortland? Well, no, my love. However, I am glad, by the tone of your voice, that you are not disappointed that it’s not him.”

  She was certainly not disappointed. Feeling quite flustered, heat rose to her cheeks. How foolish to have entertained the thought that Lord Cortland could wish to pay court to her long enough for her to dismiss the notion.

  “I shall keep you in suspense no longer—the third man who seeks your hand is Mr. George Halbury.”

  “George Halbury! Why, I haven’t seen him in years and when we danced together the other night he hardly put three sentences together.”

  “Maybe so, but there you have it. Halbury is a sensible young man, the nephew of a baronet, and manages his small estate in Wilford with none too little success. So here we are, Marina, three very creditable young men, all expressing in the keenest way that they shall not be happy unless you consent to marry them.”

  “Oh my,” her tone was faint, “and what did you say to them, Papa?”

  “I take the matter of your and your sister’s marriage as the most important responsibility that I shall ever have. And as such, I believe I should take the matter under solemn consideration. These aren’t medieval times, my love, and so I wished to get your thoughts and opinions on each gentleman before I gave any one of them my consent.”

  “I see.” Still stunned by his disclosure, she had no real notion how to respond.

  “You are quite understandably overset by this abundance of flattery, so let me say this. I discussed this with your mother last night and her opinion was to give it a few days’ thought and have another chat before I speak to the young men again.”

  “Yes, I think that is most sensible, Papa. I am flattered, but I have not given any of them a serious thought as regards to matrimony.”

  “Your mama and I want nothing but your happiness, and although you are nearing twenty, I confess I did not think I would be put in this position for a year or two at least—or perhaps that was just my hope. If you care for none of these young men, then just say so and I shall discourage their suit as diplomatically as possible.”