Page 26

M ary sat in the window seat of her parlor, staring out at the garden.

It had been three days since she and Kit had gone on the picnic, and although he was very attentive and everything one could expect from a gentleman, something was wrong.

She had made sure he’d had several opportunities to kiss her, and just when she thought he would, nothing happened.

He had to kiss her. Otherwise she wouldn’t know if she could love him or he could love her.

This was very much the same as when she’d thought he would ask her to dance during her first and only full Season. If he was finding it that difficult to like her enough to kiss her she didn’t want him. She’d be no man’s penance.

Was it only the possibility of scandal that made him want to marry her?

She cast her mind back over all their conversations.

He apparently didn’t require her money, albeit no one would turn down such a fortune.

He’d complimented her housekeeping, but never her appearance.

Even her blackguard cousin had done that, for all the good it did him.

Perhaps Kit didn’t find her pleasing. She’d always been held to be pretty, some had even said beautiful.

Two gentlemen had offered for her that Season only because of her appearance, or at least that was what all the poems they had written to her had been about.

Papa had been alive then to protect her from the fortune hunters, and there had been several of them.

What a lowering thought that Kit may not think her even passable.

Maybe he preferred ladies with dark hair and eyes.

What else had he praised her for? He loved what she’d done in the garden and the property.

Her estate management . Kit remarked on that more than anything else.

He had said Featherton wives always brought something to the family.

Was that the reason he was content to wed her?

If so, he was no better than the others who wanted her solely for her looks or her dowry.

Why couldn’t a man love her for herself?

Why did there always have to be another reason?

Well, she would not be married for her housewifery.

Still, that begged the question of whether she loved Kit or could love him.

She liked that he took responsibility. He had even owned up to neglecting Rose Hill.

He had a good sense of humor. He enjoyed gossip and admitted it.

Not many of the gentlemen she knew, the number being pitifully small, would ever disclose that.

He was kind to her and to their tenants, especially to the children, and the servants.

It must mean something that she wanted to kiss him.

If only he would oblige her by kissing her, she would know if she loved him, and more importantly if he loved her.

“My lady?”

“What is it, Mathers?”

“It’s time to dress for dinner. Shall I put out the deep rose?”

“That’s fine.”

“What’s got you so blue deviled?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Mayhap Mr. Featherton could help.”

No, no, no! He was the last person she could turn to. Mary frowned. “I don’t think so. That is who I’m having problems with.”

Mathers stilled. “He hasn’t—”

“Oh, good gracious no!” Mary shook her head. “That’s part of the problem.”

Her dresser sniffed. “I think you’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.”

She would not go round and round with her maid about that. The only things Mathers read were sermons and improving works. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

Her maid muttered something about young ladies going to the devil. “Let me untie this gown and get you into the other.”

When Mary entered the drawing room, Eunice and Mr. Doust were in conversation, and Kit stood off by himself, holding a glass of sherry loosely in his fingers. She pasted a smile on her face. “Good evening.”

He came to her immediately, took her hand, and raised it. “I was beginning to worry something might be amiss. ”

Mary met his gaze as he searched her face.

He had been concerned. Did he really care about her?

“I could not decide what to wear.” A small smile appeared on his lips.

Oh, those lips. She’d dreamed about them last night and had woken kissing her pillow.

He touched them to her fingers, and she thought she’d gone to heaven. “I am sorry for being late.”

“You could never be late. I told Simons to put dinner back for a quarter hour.”

No wonder her dresser had been in a hurry. She was always on time. What was happening to her? “Thank you.”

Wrong. This was all wrong. She thought she might be falling in love, and he did not love her at all. Perhaps she should tell him she had found a way out of their grandmothers’ trap. But then everything would be even more uncomfortable than it already was, and their friends were arriving soon.

What a pickle! Perhaps when Phoebe, Anna, and Caro left for Edinburgh, Mary would go with them. Away from Mr. Perfect and all her less-than-perfect feelings.

Kit placed Mary’s hand on his arm. Damn if he hadn’t fallen in love with her. He dreamt of nothing else but her. He couldn’t even remember what had occupied his dreams before Mary had come into his life.

Last night he’d wanted to open the door between their chambers and show her how much he desired her.

If they had been alone, he would have run his fingers through her hair, allowing it to fall down her back.

That it was long, he’d surmised, but did it flow to her waist or her hips?

How he wanted to feel its silky texture, bury his nose in it and fill his senses with her scent.

He would have fused his lips to hers, nipped and licked his way down her graceful neck, then to the sensitive base.

Kit wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before.

How many times now had he almost kissed her?

But to act on his desires would be to dishonor her, and he could not do that to the lady for whom he cared so much.

If only he knew she had the same feelings for him as he did for her, then he could propose and put himself out of this misery.

“What do you have planned for dinner to-night?”

She dropped her gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was toneless. “I only remember we have cockle soup to start. ”

Drat it all, somehow he’d hurt her. He’d rather take a knife to his gut than injure her in any way at all. “It sounds wonderful.”

When Mary tugged her hand, he let it go. “As you are aware,” she said in a sour tone, “I am a good housewife.” She turned to Doust and smiled. “What a pleasure to have you join us again.”

He slanted a glance at Eunice. “The pleasure, my lady, is all mine. I hope I have not outworn my welcome.”

“No, indeed. We enjoy your company.”

At least Doust and Lady Eunice were happy. Kit was about to drag Mary out of the room and find out what the devil he’d done, when Simons saved Kit from himself. “Dinner is served.”

Kit placed Mary’s hand on his arm. She shivered as a spark ran up his arm. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her to his side. “I am told I’m a warm fellow.”

The jest appeared lost on her. “You are. I should have brought my shawl.” She moved away. “We should go in. I do not want Cook to be upset.”

The soup was good, as was the rest of the meal, yet with Doust and Lady Eunice making sheep eyes at each other and in general behaving like April and May, and Mary avoiding meeting Kit’s eyes, it was the longest meal of his life.

For the first time, he was relieved when she stood, signaling an end to dinner.

By the time he entered the drawing room, Mary had gone.

Perhaps it was a good thing his friends were due in a day or two. Somehow he’d managed to get on her bad side, and he didn’t even know how he’d done it.

Hell . This courting business was a deuced sight harder than he’d thought it would be.

Around eleven in the morning the next day, one of the younger footmen skidded to a stop on the polished oak floor in front of Kit. “Sir, there’s a mess of coaches coming up the drive.”

Reinforcements. Finally. He was fully prepared to be the butt of his friends’ jokes if they could just tell him how to go on with Mary. “Go find her ladyship and tell her she is wanted in the hall.”

The lad bowed. “Right away, sir. ”

Several minutes later, Mary came from the back of the house. Kit was at the door when she joined him. “What is it? Jemmy was out of breath when he got to me.”

Moving to her side, Kit placed his hand on the small of her back. For a moment she leaned into it, then stopped. If only he could ask her what was wrong, but he doubted she would tell him. “It appears our guests have arrived.”

Mary’s face lit up like the fireworks at Vauxhall. “I can’t wait. It has been so long since I’ve been able to spend any time with them. All I’ve had is letters.”

Kit hadn’t before considered how lonely her life must have been during the past few years. If she gave him the opportunity, he would ensure she was never isolated again. “Simons, open the door.” He placed her hand on his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”

“Yes, let’s.” Her smile grew wide, and he ground his teeth, wishing her happiness was directed at him.

They strolled through the doorway just as a team of gleaming, perfectly matched blacks came stamping to a halt.

Three gentlemen on horseback rode up to the wide, shallow granite steps.

Two had small children strapped to them.

He grinned. That was one way to do it. When the third carriage stopped, the door opened and two women piled out, quickly making their way to the horses.

Simons was about to open the lead coach’s door when Marcus called out, “Here, take him and give him to his nurse. I’ll get my lady.”

Kit fought the urge to chuckle as Arthur was handed to the butler.

Mary giggled, covering her mouth as she did. “I should not have laughed.”