Page 5 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

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If every gentleman was as difficult to understand as Marcus was, then Emma’s Season would be a challenging one.

Her first one had been disappointing because Papa hadn’t given her much freedom, and she hadn’t attended all the events she’d wanted to.

But the next one would be different. She had every intention of having fun, something Marcus didn’t seem to have often.

They’d met several times in the past six months, what with Papa being interested in working with Sir Albert and Sir Horace’s construction company, Kingston & Sindall. Sir Albert worked with several of Papa’s friends, too. So she’d had plenty of opportunities to meet with Marcus.

On those occasions, Marcus had never spoken more than a handful of words, remaining stiff and serious whenever she talked to him. Only his eyes had lit and focused on her, but she hadn’t known if it had been in a good or bad way.

Trevor claimed Marcus was as stiff as a barge pole, but at least he talked to him about boxing and cricket.

She’d asked him to dance, and he’d refused. She’d wanted to introduce him to her friends, and he’d seemed horrified. She’d offered him tea, and he’d nearly shouted at her.

Her conclusion was that he didn’t like her. Perhaps he thought she was too silly and shallow. The spoilt daughter of an earl who knew nothing about the world, which might be true, but he shouldn’t judge her without knowing her better.

His eyes had the same metallic grey colour of a stormy lake and could be so icy cold she worried she might get frostbite. His raven hair and the dark suits he favoured added to his brooding persona.

But as she watched him now talking with Trevor in the drawing room, he smiled and seemed relaxed, the opposite of how he behaved with her.

And it wasn’t a case of one of those gentlemen who didn’t feel comfortable around ladies because he hadn’t had any problems talking and joking with other young women her age. She’d watched him having conversations with maids and seamstresses.

It was her.

A mystery, because he had been nothing but polite to her, aside from the tea incident. He’d never argued with her, made rude comments, or made fun of her. It was his being quiet and simply nodding at whatever she said, compared to his more lively attitude with Trevor, that proved her theory right.

Even now, she had the feeling he avoided glancing in her direction.

Marcus stood up after finishing his cup of tea. “I need a moment, if you’ll excuse me.”

Trevor waved him off before biting into another sandwich.

When Marcus left, she sagged in the armchair.

“You look sour. Is it because of my comment?” Trevor asked.

“Which one? You always make comments about everything.”

“A gentleman needs opinions, even the wrong ones. Especially the wrong ones.”

She relaxed her facial muscles. “It’s Marcus.”

“He’s odd and stiff, but he’s a decent chap.”

“With you. He must hate me.”

Trevor chuckled. “Don’t be silly.”

“He remains silent and serious when I talk as if I bore him to death.” She sipped her tea.

“Well, maybe you do bore him to death.”

She exhaled. “Thank you. I feel so much better. With you, he laughs and talks. I don’t know why he dislikes me so much.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Trevor glanced at the door. “He’s polite with me but not warm. He’s warmer with the footmen. But I don’t mind if he feels more comfortable with the servants.”

“Then he doesn’t like me because I’m an earl’s daughter.”

He shook his head. “The truth is that people always like you, and that the one time you find someone who doesn’t worship you, it bothers you.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t care about people worshipping me. I just wonder why he doesn’t like me.”

“He isn’t rude to you, I believe.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just distant and cold, which is the same thing sometimes.”

“Try to talk less. Maybe he’s intimidated by your being very talkative.”

“I will.” She regarded him with surprise. “For once, you gave me good advice.”

“Don’t get used to that.” Trevor tilted his head and slanted a glance at her.

“Why do you care, anyway? Once you start your Season, you’ll have plenty of gentlemen interested in you.

You’ll have so many suitors that I’ll probably have to challenge someone to a duel.

As much as I think Marcus is a good man, he’s the son of a builder.

He won’t court you. He works for those gentlemen who will be your suitors. ”

“Do you have to be so crass? You’re jumping to conclusions. I’ve never said anything about Marcus courting me.” And their late mother hadn’t come from nobility, either. She rose. “Anyway, I need to change.”

“Yes, you do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Stop thinking about him, and everything will be better.”

Easier said than done. Thoughts of Marcus filled her mind as she headed towards the stairs.

Talk less. Was she unbearably talkative? She would say no, not with Marcus, at least. With him, she found it difficult to talk about everything that popped into her mind as she did with other friends.

She was at the base of the stairs when Marcus came from the corridor. As usual, he stiffened when he saw her. He barely glanced at her.

“Marcus?” she called when he was about to enter the drawing room.

He didn’t turn around towards her immediately. “My lady.”

Asking a gentleman a direct question about his liking for her was inappropriate, but she needed to know the answer, and likely, Marcus would never want to court her. She had nothing to lose.

She checked that the corridor was empty. “Why don’t you like me?”

There. She’d asked. And she wasn’t sorry. It was better to be clear than to have doubts.

His grey eyes widened, enhancing their peculiar colour. For the first time, they warmed with an emotion she couldn’t place. Shame, horror?

“Why would you say that?” Even his voice acquired a deep, warm tone that started a quiver in her belly.

“You never talk to me, and when we’re together, you look like you’d rather be in the Tower of London than with me.”

A corner of his mouth curved up in a charming crooked smile. “No, trust me. I’m very happy to be with you.”

The honesty in his voice struck her. It was as if she were meeting him for the first time.

“Then why do you never talk to me?” She lowered her tone. “Why don’t you want to call me Emma? Because you want to keep your distance?”

His shoulders rose and fell with a long breath. “Emma, no. I don’t want to keep my distance.”

She leant over the bannister. “Then what don’t you like about me?”

“I like everything about you.” His voice turned into that deep baritone again. It did funny things to her stomach.

She’d received many compliments. People often praised her grace and elegance when she danced, or her complexion. But that ‘everything’ said in his intense voice and full honesty beat every other compliment she’d ever received.

He opened his mouth again, but the sound of a carriage arriving cut him off.

The footman rushed to the front door and pulled it open. Papa, Sir Albert, and Sir Horace stepped into the entry hall, talking among themselves. A gust swept through the hallway, chilling the air and the atmosphere between Marcus and her.

“There you are, darling. Are you getting ready for dinner?” Papa shifted his gaze from Emma to Marcus.

Sir Albert seemed not to know if he should smile or remain serious. Sir Horace narrowed his gaze on Marcus.

She straightened, still a bit shocked by Marcus’s words. “Yes, I was about to change, Papa.” She bowed her head. “Marcus, I’ll see you at dinner.”

As she went up the stairs, she could feel Marcus’s fierce gaze on her.

She paused at the landing and half-turned around.

He stared at her with an intensity that had nothing to do with the usual frost and that made her feel desirable.

It was as if his mask had fallen, and now he was staring at her as he’d always wanted to.

And she was more confused than ever.