Page 8 of Marquess of Stone (Braving the Elements #2)

CHAPTER 8

“ R ace you to the orangery!” Nicholas called out, his challenge carrying on the morning breeze like a thrown gauntlet. One day had passed since their rendezvous at the lake, and Nicholas had been itching to spend time with her, biding his time until she could sneak away from her mother’s ever watchful gaze. Now, as he watched Marian’s expression shift from surprised indignation to barely concealed delight, something in his chest tightened at the sight.

The morning sun filtered through the canopy above them, creating a dappled pattern that danced across her features as she urged her horse forward. Nicholas found himself oddly transfixed by the way the light caught in her hair, transforming the rich brown into threads of burnished copper.

“You are falling behind, Marian!” he called over his shoulder, allowing himself a moment of pure, uncomplicated joy as the wind ruffled through his dark hair. It had been too long since he had felt this light, this free from the weight of responsibility.

Her response carried on the breeze, a sharp wit and warm with humor. “It is only fair to let you have a head start, Nicholas. God forbid I bruise your ego!”

“My ego? I assure you, it is quite resilient,” he called back. “Though, your concern is touching.”

“Oh, I am not concerned for your ego, My Lord,” she retorted, her voice carrying on the wind. “but merely for the inevitable moment when you must concede to defeat.”

“Such confidence, Marian! And here I thought modestly was a feminine virtue.”

“Along with silence and compliance, no doubt?” The arch of her eyebrow spoke volumes. “How fortunate that I have never been particularly skilled at either.”

He could not help but laugh. He slowed his horse, allowing her to draw alongside him. The rhythmic sound of hooves against packed earth created a steady backdrop to their banter as natural as breathing.

He studied her profile as they continued onward, noting the way she sat on her horse with unconscious grace, her posture perfect without being rigid — unlike so many ladies of his acquaintance who treated riding as merely another social accomplishment to be mastered and displayed. Marian truly enjoyed the act; that much was plain to see.

“And here I thought you were competitive,” he said, unable to resist provoking that spark in her eyes that appeared whenever she was challenged. “Have I overestimated you?”

The look she gave him was pure mischief wrapped in mock propriety. “You will find that I prefer to win — when it matters .”

“And racing to the orangery does not matter?” He tilted his head.

“Not nearly as much as making you believe that it does,” she replied with devastating sweetness, and before he could parse the layers of meaning in her words, she had urged her horse into a steady gallop, leaving him momentarily behind, stunned.

Nicholas barked out a laugh before spurring his own horse forward. “Clever, aren’t you?” he murmured, admiration coloring his tone. “Always three steps ahead.”

“Only three? You underestimate me, Nicholas.”

“Never. That would be a grave mistake,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Though, I do wonder what game you are truly playing at sometimes.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, something tender flickering beneath her teasing tone, “I am simply enjoying the freedom to play at all.”

“Well, it seems freedom suits you, Marian. Rather too well, I fear.”

The trees blurred past them as they raced, and he found his eyes watching her more than the path ahead.

The orangery appeared ahead of them, its glass walls catching the morning light like captured sunshine. As they slowed their horses in the clearing, Nicholas could not help but notice how the exercise had brought a most becoming flush to Marian’s cheeks, how her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter.

He dismounted first, his mind already racing ahead to his next improvised adventure. “Hold this,” he instructed as he passed her the leather reined for his horse before she could protest.

The ancient orange tree that grew beside the orangery had been his childhood companion. How many times had he visited his friend Elias, and they would climb these same familiar branches when seeking refuge from their parent’s constant demands? He scaled the massive tree with practiced ease though he was still acutely aware of Marian’s gaze following his progress intently.

“Are you always this impulsive?” she called up, her voice carrying notes of both disapproval and awe as she stared up at him with wide eyes.

Nicholas grinned as he reached for a perfectly ripe orange nestled among the leaves. “Impulsive?” he plucked it free and tossed it down to her waiting hands. “I prefer to think of myself as… resourceful.”

“Of course, you do,” she muttered, but he caught the smile she tried so hard to hide as she examined the fruit. Then she surprised him — as she seemed increasingly capable of doing — by looking up with challenge brightly beaming from her eyes. “That seems rather unfair. Why should you get to have all the fun?”

He leaned against his branch, studying her with growing fascination. Most ladies of his acquaintance would have been horrified at the mere suggestion of climbing a tree, yet here she stood, practically vibrating with the desire to join him .

“You are not suggesting you want to climb the tree, are you?” he asked though he already knew the answer. Marian Brandon, he was learning, rarely suggested anything she was not prepared to follow through on.

“And why not?” she asked as she secured both sets of reins to a nearby post, her movements quick and decisive. “I am more than capable.”

Nicholas felt his smile soften into something dangerously genuine. “Very well then, My Lady. Allow me to assist you.”

He watched with barely concealed admiration as Marian gathered her skirts with practiced efficiency, approaching the tree with the same determined grace she seemed to apply to each and every one of her small rebellions. Her face bore the same focused expression he had come to recognize — the one that suggested she was about to defy yet another one of society’s arbitrary rules about proper feminine behavior.

“Mind your footing here,” he instructed, positioning himself to assist her.

“I believe I can manage, thank you,” she said archly though she did not refuse his help. “I had spent half of my childhood in trees before my mother declared it unladylike.”

The revelation delighted him. “Did she now? And what other pursuits were deemed undesirable for a young lady of your standing?”

Marian reached for a higher branch, her movements becoming more confident with each step. “Oh, the usual suspects… reading novels, expressing opinions, showing any sign of possessing a functioning mind.”

Her dry tone made him laugh.

“And what other scandalous skills did the lady acquire before propriety intervened?” he asked, watching her navigate another branch with surprising grace.

“Would it not be more thrilling to leave you wondering?” she teased though there was a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “I once convinced our gardener to teach me knife throwing.”

“Knife throwing?” His dark eyebrows shot upward. “Good God, woman, you are full of surprises!”

“Are you disappointed?” she asked earnestly.

“Quite the opposite. Though remind me to stay on your good side.”

She laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained. “Wise of you, Lord Stone,” she said as she reached for another branch. “Though I was utterly dreadful at it, truth be told. My mother caught me before I could properly master the skill.”

“What a shame. Though perhaps it is for the best — you seem dangerous enough as it is.”

“Dangerous? Me?” She affected an innocent expression that fooled neither of them. “I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“No? Then perhaps I am not the only one underestimating someone.”

She laughed again, the sound light and cheerful. “Touche, Nicholas.”

“Careful now,” he cautioned as she navigated a particularly tricky section. “I have to admit, you are doing splendidly.”

She paused in her climb to look at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Your surprise at my competence is well noted, Lord Stone.”

“Not surprise,” he corrected, following her progress with careful attention. “Appreciation, Marian. There is a difference.”

The sunlight splashed onto her face as she processed his words, and Nicholas found himself memorizing the way it played across her features. She opened her mouth as if to reply, but then her gaze caught something in the distance, and her expression transformed into one of wonder.

“Is that where we are going?” she asked, gesturing toward the cliff that rose majestically above the rolling hills that sat beyond the orangery.

Nicholas felt an unexpected surge of pleasure at her enthusiasm. “You are thoroughly ruining my surprise, Marian,” he said though he could not muster any real disappointment.

Her descent was less graceful than her ascent, but it gave him another excuse to touch her, to steady her as his hands found her waist with perhaps more familiarity than was strictly proper. When her feet touched the ground, she didn’t immediately step away, and for a moment, they stood in a pocket of silence that seemed to exist outside the normal rules of propriety.

“Shall we?” he asked finally. The loss of contact felt strangely significant, like a door closing in a room he hadn’t fully explored.

“Tell me,” she said, brushing leaves from her skirts, “do you make it a habit of corrupting young ladies with these… adventures, Nicholas?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a genuine question swimming in her eyes.

“Only the ones who are already plotting their own corruption,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Though I must say, you are by far the most entertaining conspirator I have had.”

“How many conspirators have there been?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

His expression softened. “None quite like you, Marian. None who have understood the difference between rebellion for its own sake and the pursuit of genuine freedom.”

She turned away, but not before he caught the flush rising in her cheeks. “And which am I?”

“Ah, that is what makes you so fascinating — you are both and neither.”

They retrieved their horses and set out for the cliff, the trail winding through ancient woodlands that held more memories of Nicholas’ childhood adventures. He found himself sharing them with her, pointing out the massive oak that had been his favorite hiding spot and the hollow tree where he had once discovered a family of foxes.

“You must have been even more mischievous as a child than you are as an adult,” Marian observed, her tone warm with understanding rather than judgement.

“I prefer curious,” he corrected, enjoying the way her lips curved at his deliberate echo of their earlier conversation. “And what of you, Marian Brandon? Where you always as prim and proper as you seem now?”

The look she gave him could have set paper aflame. “Prim and proper? Hardly. You have a remarkable talent for misjudgment, Nicholas. I was a terror, according to my governess.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said though the twinkle in his eye betrayed his words. In truth, he could perfectly imagine a younger Marian, her spirit yet unbridled by duty and expectations, wreaking havoc on any adult foolish enough to try and contain her wildness.

The trail narrowed as they approached the cliff, forcing them to ride single file. Nicholas took the opportunity to observe her reaction as the vista slowly revealed itself. He noticed every detail — the way her breath caught in her throat, the way her eyes widened as she took in the sweeping panorama — and it made something warm unfurl in his chest.

She dismounted without waiting for his assistance, drawn to the cliff’s edge as if pulled by an invisible thread. Wildflowers swayed around her ankles, their colors pale echoes of the fierce joy painted across her features.

“It is… magnificent,” she whispered, and Nicholas found himself, once again, watching her rather than the view, captivated by the way wonder had transformed her entire being.

He joined her at the edge, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body but not quite touching. The breeze carried the sweet scent of summer grass and something uniquely Marian.

“You seem rather enchanted,” he teased gently, settling himself on the grass beside her. “Though I must admit, your expression makes the view pale in comparison.”

She turned to him with mock severity. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I would not dare,” he replied though his eyes danced with mischief. “I merely observe that you seem to have forgotten all about propriety in your wonderment today.”

“Propriety?” She glanced down at her stained skirts as they spread across the grass, her lips twitching. “I suppose I have rather forgotten myself. How shocking,” she jested.

“Thoroughly shocking,” he agreed. “Whatever would your mother say?”

“Oh, I imagine she would have quite a mouthful to say,” Marian laughed then sobered slightly. “She always does.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the clouds on the horizon.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice soft, but earnest.

“What for?”

“For this. For…” She gestured vaguely at the view, at the space between them. “For helping me with my ridiculous list. I would never have managed without you.”

“Ah, the infamous list.” He turned to study her profile. “Might I ask… why did you make it?”

She was quiet for a long moment, plucking absently at a blade of grass. “Because I suppose — by society’s standards — I am a spinster already,” she admitted finally with a self-depreciating smile that made his breath catch. “I simply wanted to… live a little… before my life is declared over and done with.”

“I was under the impression that spinsterhood offered certain freedoms,” he ventured carefully.

“Perhaps for some.” Her laugh held little humor. “My parents are… different. I chose not to marry knowing I would likely spend my days helping them marry off my sisters, maintaining the household and so on… but after Lydia managed to secure a match with a Duke …” She sighed heavily. “… well, it seems my mother and father cannot help themselves.”

Nicholas watched a hawk circle lazily overhead, considering her words carefully. “I understand. I was nineteen,” he said finally, “when my father died, and I inherited the title. I barely left the estate for six years, determined to repair what he had…” He paused, searching for a diplomatic word that was fit to use in the company of a lady.

“Ruined?” she supplied gently.

“Quite.” He offered her a wry smile. “And after I succeeded, after everything ran smoothly again, I found myself rather… lost. I excel at business, at restoration, but life…” He chuckled cynically. “… that is another matter entirely. Your list…” He glanced at her, something warm unfurling in his chest at her attentive expression. “… it reminded me that there might just be more to life than ledgers and responsibility.”

“If I were to lend my ears to the gossip that precedes your reputation, I would have thought you had already figured that out,” she teased.

Nicholas laughed lightly and nodded his head. “Touche.”

“Sometimes,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the horizon, “I do wonder if this is what birds must feel like… this sense of endless possibility.”

“And do you wish to fly away then, Marian?” he asked, his voice unusually curious.

She turned to face him then, and the look in her eyes made his breath catch. “Perhaps,” she whispered, “I am already flying.”

The weight of unspoken words hung between them like morning mist, neither quite ready to acknowledge the dangerous truth that was becoming harder and harder to ignore: that some walls were worth the risk of breaking.

The moment shattered as Marian suddenly registered the sun’s position. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “We need to get back!”

Their return to the manor was a blur of barely suppressed laughter and careful stealth, ducking through the servant’s stairwell and nearly startling a poor maid out of her wits. They managed to make themselves presentable just before the dinner bell’s imperious summons rang through the house. Marian slipped into her seat just as the first course was being served, aware of her mother’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Marian,” Lady Prudence’s voice carried that familiar blend of concern and criticism that only mothers are able to achieve, “you look rather… flushed. Perhaps your headache requires more rest? Should we send for the physician?”

Marian almost choked on her wine. “That is not necessary, thank you, Mother. I took a walk in the garden earlier,” she said while carefully arranging her napkin. “I found the sunshine and fresh air quite… restorative.”

“Did you encounter anyone else taking advantage of the fine weather?” the Baroness Hountshire inquired, her eyes gleaming with barely concealed curiosity. “Lord Stone, I noticed your absence in the village yesterday.”

Nicholas’ attempt at disguising his laugh as a cough earned him a sharp pinch under the table as Marian shot him a warning look, and her heart melted at the smile that curved his lips.

He retaliated by clearing his throat in earnest and addressing the table at large. “Speaking of intellectual pursuits, has anyone read Mary Wollstonecraft’s latest work?”

“Good heavens,” Lady Prudence murmured, “must we discuss such… worrisome topics at the dinner table?”

“I find her arguments regarding educational reform quite compelling,” Marian could not resist adding her own opinion, and she watched her mother’s expression shift from mild disapproval to genuine concern.

Diana, who usually was quiet and reserved, joined in unexpectedly, “I… I actually found her chapter on emotional intelligence quite fascinating.”

“Did you indeed?” Jane grinned at her twin. “And here I though you only read those gothic romance novels I spotted under your pillow.”

“I do not think —” Lady Prudence began, but she was cut off by a loud, authoritative voice.

“Ladies,” their father warned from where he sat across from his wife and daughters though his tone held more resignation than real censure.

“Actually,” Nicholas interjected smoothly, “her views on emotional equality are perhaps even more revolutionary than her educational theories. Would you not agree, Lady Marian?”

“Oh, certainly, Lord Stone.” Marian’s eyes sparkled with intellectual challenge. “Though I find her argument about the artificial constraints society places on female intellectual development particularly relevant.”

“Relevant to what, precisely?” the Viscount Crowton cut in, his tone carrying that particular edge of aristocratic disdain that made Marian’s spine stiffen. “Surely you are not suggesting that ladies should be afforded the same educational opportunities as gentlemen?”

The atmosphere suddenly thickened around the room with all of the guests intently following the conversation. Some had hope in their eyes, and others looks of damnation.

“And why ever not?” Marian countered, earning herself a warning look from her mother and an appreciative glance from Nicholas. “Unless gentlemen fear competition?”

The Duke of Myste chose his moment to intervene. “I rather think education, like wealth, benefits from diverse investment strategies. Would not you agree, Lord Stone?”

Nicholas caught Elias’ raised eyebrow from across the table but chose to ignore his friend’s knowing look. “Indeed,” he replied, his knee brushing against Marian’s under the table. The touch might have seemed perfectly accidental, but it definitely wasn’t. “Though, some investments do tend to prove more valuable than others.”

“Speaking of investments,” Lady Prudence said rather desperately as she attempted to change the subject, “has anyone heard about the new conservatory they are planning to erect at Hampton Court?”

But Nicholas was barely listening to the conversation’s safer turn. He found himself too captivated by the way Marian’s eyes still danced with the fire of debate and the way her fingers played with her wine glass as she contemplated arguments she was too well-bred to mention in polite conversation.

He looked at her then — really looked at her — and he caught himself. This was dangerous territory, even for him. But he pushed the thought from his mind. Some dangers, after all, were worth risking everything for.

Later that evening, in the privacy of her chambers, Marian smiled gleefully to herself as she carefully crossed another item off her list.

1. Have a romantic moment with a stranger.

2. Swim in a lake, or the ocean.

3. Go on an adventure.

4. Gamble, smoke, or drink.

5. Read Mary Wollstonecraft’s ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Women’.

6. Fall in lo Kiss someone.