Page 22 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

“F orgive me, my wayward hands. I lost myself. You make me forget,” Nick said, as though she hadn’t just professed her love for him. The idiot!

She wanted to cry so badly. She battled back the tears, refusing to cry in front of him.

She didn’t want him to accuse her of manipulating him with her tears.

She also wanted to hit him in the chest repeatedly to work out her frustrations.

Why had he touched her so intimately, making her entire being come alive, only to then retreat, leaving her hurt and chilled down to the bone?

But if he wasn’t going to acknowledge her declaration, she wouldn’t either.

No, it was a lie. She had to.

Swallowing down her disappointment, in both herself and him, she stepped back and out of his arms. “Perhaps we should return.” He would not meet her eyes.

She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

She struggled to speak and then the words flowed.

“Don’t look away from me, Nick. It makes me feel less than who I am.

I’m sorry I said those words, though it’s not as if you couldn’t have deduced the truth of it.

I had suspected it, but didn’t admit it to myself or you till now.

I will not regret, when we kissed the first time, that I refused to admit the intense connection we shared, but I now understand how disappointed you were that I wouldn’t discuss it.

And now I believe our fake courtship has run its course.

Because, as you said once, we both have trouble remembering it’s not real.

I’m not upset. So don’t concern yourself with me. ”

Her lips brushed across his, then she pivoted and walked back the way they came.

Her feet shuffled, heavy and awkward. She could barely lift them off the ground.

Her heart, which beat steadily inside her chest, wanted to cease to exist. Her mind called her a love-sick fool.

But alas, she smiled as she joined the guests enjoying this wonderful ball.

If only she could enjoy it. She had become good at masking her emotions and would tonight.

She refused to give Nick any satisfaction in seeing her hurt by his rejection.

He may not have spoken his rejection aloud, but his silence said it all.

Tonight, they had turned a pivotal corner in their relationship.

There was no doubt he wanted her physically, and God help her, she wanted him so desperately her entire body ached for his touch.

Yet, he was unwilling to profess his love or offer for her hand.

They could have an affair, except that she knew she would never recover if she gave her body fully to him.

With him, she was afraid it would be all or nothing.

Unfortunately, it looked as though nothing had won.

Finally understanding this, she would look to the future, though she felt nearly paralyzed from a broken heart.

It was time to seriously consider David as a potential future husband and father to her children.

There was no time like the present as another waltz began to play, and she looked around for him.

He was at her side in seconds, bowing and offering his arm. “My dance, I believe.”

Her hand rested on his forearm as he led her onto the wooden dance floor.

He held her gently as they danced around gracefully.

His dancing had improved since their last waltz.

“I’ve been looking for you. You disappeared on me,” he said without condemnation.

“Hollingsworth took you into the gardens, I presume.”

How refreshing to be with a man who spoke his mind. He didn’t accuse her of anything either, only stated facts. She hoped his lack of jealousy wasn’t because he hadn’t true feelings for her. “Yes. We strolled through them.”

“Would you do me the honor of showing them to me when the dance ends?”

“I would like that very much. And just so you know, Hollingsworth and I are no longer courting.”

One brow rose. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” That was all she would say about the matter.

“Then I look forward to spending more time with you. You do realize we have yet to take that ride in the park. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you tomorrow.”

“Oh dear, I forgot about the park. It seems as if the weather or some other interference is always against us. I will sleep tonight praying for a warm, sunny day.”

“Thank you. For giving me a chance. For not just seeing the man with the damaged reputation. For seeing me for who I am now and not holding my past against me.”

“I didn’t know you then. All I see is the man before me.” And it was the truth. She had trouble equating the man before her with the man she had heard unpleasant things about. She didn’t always believe gossip, but by David’s own admission, the gossip was true.

“Once again, thank you.”

“The music ended. We’d best leave the dance floor. People are beginning to stare.”

“Let them,” he said with a laugh. He offered his arm, and she wrapped hers around it.

Priscilla didn’t want to go down the same path she went with Nick, so she maneuvered David into the gardens toward the back of the dance floor. “This is a different path. That way, we can explore together.”

*

David, against his nature, let Priscilla choose the garden path.

He must not show his domineering personality until they were married.

He had taken a hiatus from gambling and visiting dens of iniquity for the time being.

He had to prove to everyone that he had changed, mostly his brother.

But James was tough, and David was still trying to convince him that he’d changed.

If he managed to fool his younger brother, he could fool anyone.

Especially Priscilla, who tended to believe everything he said.

And now that Hollingsworth was out of the way, he could step up their courtship, seduce her, and wed her. Once he bedded her, she would be his.

The dowry she came with was generous, but it wouldn’t last long with his lavish lifestyle. Taking over Norton’s lucrative crime business had come at the perfect time. Realizing he’d been musing longer than he should have, he said, “You were correct when you said the gardens are beautiful.”

“Indeed. It must have taken dozens of workers to plant wagonloads of flowers and plants to make such a vibrant display of color and blooms.”

“Yes.” How droll to be talking about flowers. Such insignificant things.

She tugged her arm from his and stuffed her face into some white flower he recalled seeing in many gardens around London. “Jasmine is one of my favorites. The scent is potent for such a delicate flower.”

Ever the gallant gentleman, he plucked a flower from the plant and handed it to her. “It is as delicate and beautiful as you are, my dear.”

Her eyes lowered, and her cheeks turned red. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

“Not at all. What I say is true. Shall we continue? I see a small alcove made by some tall shrubs. Ever since the other night, I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”

Her face turned even redder. Whoever thought blushing was becoming was an idiot. She resembled a lobster cooking in a pot of boiling water to him. Not attractive at all.

When she hesitated a moment, he forced himself to relax and smile that smile he had that no lady seemed to refuse.

He’d practiced it in the mirror and perfected it years ago, and it never failed to get him what he wanted.

In this case, whom he wanted. And he wanted Pricilla.

Not because he cared for her but because one female was as good as the next, and he needed to solidify his claim for her hand in marriage, and he needed a son to inherit the title.

Eventually he would send her to his country estate to raise his heir and any other children, and he’d be free of her.

He reached for her hand and led her into the opening created by a wall of trees or shrubs. He didn’t care what she called them. “Ahhh, we are finally alone,” he whispered into her ear. And he grinned when he saw her relax. She was not very good at hiding her feelings and emotions. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she said as she leaned into him.

He enveloped her within his arms, pulling her tight to his hard body, and kissed her.

He tried to take it slow and use finesse, but her scent suddenly had his senses scrambling.

He fought to control himself and eventually won.

“Forgive me. I lose my mind when I kiss you.” It was the first time in his life that a woman had made him forget himself.

It was unsettling, to say the least. He would have to be careful around her in the future.

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said softly. “I enjoyed the kiss.”

His lips caressed the soft skin of her neck. His hands made a path up and down her back and eventually to her side. He eased his hands between their bodies and cupped both breasts with his large, warm hands. One moment, a sigh escaped her lips, and the next, she stepped out of his reach.

“I shouldn’t have come here with you. Because if you are only looking for a tryst, you may as well bow out of this courtship.”

What the bloody hell? He ran his hands—which he was shocked to see were shaking—through his hair.

Where the devil had his hat gone? He looked behind him, picked it up, and stuffed it on his head.

He took Priscilla’s hands in his. “Look at me.” Her eyes fluttered up to his, and she looked wary.

“Forgive me.” He turned on the charm. “I care deeply for you. I would never take advantage of you.”

“But . . .”

“I know. Saying is all well and good, but doing is another matter. It won’t happen again. If our kisses lead us down this path again, you have my permission to slap my cheek.” He said it with a smile and teasing nature, and she smiled shyly back at him. She was making it too easy.

“It’s good to know I have your permission.” She glanced down at her feet and back up to him. “Perhaps we should return.”

When the gardens were behind them, and they joined their group of friends. Priscilla’s friends really, although his brother and sister-in-law were part of that gathering. He forced himself to bow. “Lady Priscilla, I enjoyed our time together immensely. But I must leave. Goodnight.”

She curtsied, giving him a peek at the breasts he had recently fondled ever so briefly. “Goodnight.”

David left the gardens and made haste to his lover.

If he were capable of caring for anyone, it would be her.

According to her, she loved him, and she didn’t need his money.

She had a provider who no longer shared her bed but continued to pay her living expenses and a quarterly stipend.

The man was a fool to think the child she carried was his.