Chapter Seven
Finn didn’t care much for fair-haired ladies. Porcelain skin, rosebud lips, and tall, slender figures didn’t make his breath short, and he wasn’t likely to get lost in a pair of blue eyes—no matter how deep a blue, or how heavily-lashed they might be.
Miss Somerset wasn’t at all to his taste.
He could see why other gentlemen admired her, of course. Those heavy, silky curls made a man imagine what it might be like to pull loose every pin, tangle his fingers in it, and tilt her head back so he could press his mouth against that long neck and nibble a path down to the delicious curve of her shoulder. She’d be soft there, fragrant, and her pale skin would flush so prettily, warming his lips—
“Close your mouth, Huntington. You’re distressing Miss Somerset.”
Finn dragged his gaze away from her to scowl at Lord Derrick. “What the devil do you mean, Derrick? I wasn’t—”
“Looking at her the way a wolf looks at a lamb, right before he devours it? Certainly you were. Every time she so much as twitches, your legs tense, as if you’re preparing to leap over the settee and take a bite out of her. Why do you think she looks so agitated?”
Lord Derrick raised his teacup to his lips to hide a faint smirk, but Finn saw it, and his teeth snapped together. “Nonsense. I’m not looking at her at all. I was looking at Lady Honora.”
At least he should be looking at Lady Honora, because with her glossy dark hair and wide brown eyes, she was the one who possessed the kind of gentle beauty he’d always admired. Miss Somerset’s slender figure—no matter how graceful—was nothing next to Lady Honora’s lush curves, and then there was Miss Somerset’s coloring, which was all wrong. Her delicate, blush-pink lips couldn’t compete with Lady Honora’s red ones, even if they did look like a swollen rosebud, the lower lip a tempting curve, equal parts wickedness and vulnerability—
“Then I beg your pardon, Huntington. I’ve just never known Lady Honora to inspire such a predatory gleam in your eye.”
“You’ve never known Miss Somerset to inspire it, either.” Finn scowled down at his teacup. Anyone could see she wasn’t at all to his taste—anyone but Derrick, that is, who seemed determined to believe Finn was gaping at her because he couldn’t stop thinking about tasting the curve of her neck—
“No, but then she’s never jilted you before. I think this sudden preference for the classic English rose is a direct result of her rejection. We all want what we can’t have, eh, Huntington? Such an unexpected rebellion on her part, too. I think the lady has earned your admiration at last. Damned inconvenient timing, isn’t it?”
“This whole business is inconvenient, and the timing is the least of it.” The secrets, the potential for scandal, the lady herself—it would become a bloody mess before it was resolved, and Finn detested messes.
Lord Derrick chuckled. “That’s not a gallant sentiment for a gentleman about to embark on a courtship.” Lord Derrick smirked again, and this time he didn’t even have the decency to hide it behind his teacup.
“Damn it, Derrick, this isn’t some romantic courtship, it’s—”
“…and I couldn’t be happier to see you all.” Lady Hadley beamed at her guests as she passed Lady Honora a plate of refreshments. “It’s such a long journey from London, but I daresay you found a pleasant way to pass the time.”
“Very pleasant, indeed, my lady. Beautiful ride.” Lord Wrexley’s dark gaze slid from Lady Hadley to Miss Somerset, and a slow smile curled his lips. “I can’t recall ever being so captivated by the scenery before.”
Finn slammed his plate down on a side table with a rude clatter. “Beautiful, yes, but I doubt you’ll have an opportunity to see as much of it as you wish to, Wrexley.”
Lord Wrexley didn’t spare him a glance, but kept his gaze on Miss Somerset. “You’re kind to be concerned, Huntington, but I assure you I intend to make the most of my visit. You see, I’ve made it a point to see as much as I possibly can in the fortnight I’m here.”
“Ambitious of you, but you can’t hope to accomplish much in such a short time. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with your progress.”
Lord Wrexley dismissed this concern with an idle flick of his fingers. “Oh, not to worry, Huntington. A fortnight is more than long enough for my purposes.”
“We’ll see. Tell me, Miss Somerset. Did you find the journey as diverting as Lord Wrexley?” Finn pinned her with a hard look meant to communicate his intentions.
I’m here for you.
Her blue eyes widened with alarm. “I, ah—it was a pleasant trip, my lord, but I find myself rather fatigued. Perhaps a rest before dinner would help.”
Lady Tallant, who’d been watching this exchange with sharp interest, now let out a sigh and rose to her feet. “Come along then, Miss Somerset. I’m going up myself, so I’ll take you. Otherwise you’ll be wandering about for hours, and never encounter another living soul. It’s like an Egyptian tomb up there, with dozens of dim passageways all leading precisely nowhere.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you, my lady. I’ll see you all at dinner, then?” With one last furtive glance at Finn, Miss Somerset followed Lady Tallant from the room.
Finn waited for a moment or two after they’d left, then rose to his feet. “My horse was favoring his left front foot on the ride here. I believe I’ll go out to the stables and check on him.”
Captain West, who was a former cavalry officer and knew his horses, turned to Finn with a frown. “I’d be happy to come out and take a look—”
“No, that’s not necessary, I thank you. I believe it’s just a loose shoe. It won’t take long.” He bowed and smiled at the ladies, then strode out into the entryway just in time to see Lady Tallant and Miss Somerset turn left at the second floor landing.
Finn didn’t give himself time to reconsider, but went up after them, the thump of his boots muffled against the thick carpets. Damn foolish, following her into her bedchamber. Captain West would toss him out at once if he heard of it, and it wasn’t as if Finn wouldn’t have another opportunity to speak to Miss Somerset later this evening. And did he really need to see where she slept? She already haunted his dreams, for God’s sake. He’d woken in the dark last night, half-smothered in his blankets, with the stubborn tilt of her chin and the blue flash in her eyes floating around in his fevered brain. Wasn’t that bad enough?
None of these logical arguments did a thing to slow his steps, however. He continued down the hallway, cursing himself the entire way, a burning urgency in his belly driving him forward.
“…dine early because Lady Hadley and Captain West keep country hours.”
A door opened, and Lady Tallant’s voice drifted down the hallway.
“I’ll see you at 7:00, Miss Somerset. Enjoy your rest.”
Finn ducked around a corner at the end of the corridor until he heard the soft shuffle of Lady Annabel’s slippers move past, and then he crept to Miss Somerset’s door. He didn’t knock, but turned the knob, slipped inside, and closed it behind him.
She was standing at the basin, dabbing at her face and neck with a damp cloth, but she caught sight of him in the glass and let out a small gasp. “Lord Huntington!” She whirled around to face him, her hand going to her throat. “You shocked me half to death! My goodness, what are you doing in my bedchamber?”
He leaned back against the door, trying not to notice the tiny droplets of water glistening on her skin. “I beg your pardon for the disturbance, Miss Somerset, but we have something to discuss.”
He’d told himself he’d stay by the door, and he didn’t recall having moved, but somehow he was standing in the middle of her room. She’d tossed aside her light traveling cloak and hat, her cheeks were pink from her ablutions, and damp tendrils of her hair curled in a riot of little ringlets around her face and the back of her neck.
So angelic, rather like a child.
Lady Beaumont’s voice had dripped with scorn when she’d said it, and Finn hadn’t contradicted her, but now, with Miss Somerset facing him, her back stiff and that contrary tilt to her chin, he saw how wrong he’d been. No lady who could calmly face off with a marquess who’d burst into her bedchamber was a child. Looking at her now, he didn’t know how he’d ever thought her one.
“I can’t imagine what’s so urgent you think it appropriate to risk my reputation to get it. You know very well we can’t be alone in my bedchamber, Lord Huntington. Shocking behavior, especially for a gentleman who wouldn’t even kiss his betrothed in a private garden because he deemed it improper.”
Finn’s gaze dropped to her pink mouth, and he ran his tongue across the inside of his lower lip. It drove him mad to think about that kiss now—a kiss that should have happened but hadn’t, and perhaps now never would.
“No one saw me enter, but if they had, we could simply claim that enthusiasm for each other’s company so common among betrothed couples.”
Her chin shot up. “I don’t recall you being enthusiastic about my company when we were betrothed. It’s one of the reasons we no longer are. I jilted you, my lord. Since you seem to be confused, let me explain what that means. No betrothal, no wedding, no marriage, and certainly no surprise visits to my bedchamber.”
God, that stubborn little chin. He was coming to think of that maddening gesture as utterly hers. “It’s kind of you to clarify for me. I do recall something about a jilting, and yet there’s some lingering confusion on the matter.”
She tossed her cloth into the wash basin and jabbed her hands onto her hips. “Indeed? I was certain I made my sentiments regarding that situation perfectly clear.”
Finn fought back a sudden, absurd urge to grin at her show of pique. He’d never cared much for ladies with quick tempers, but he liked the flash in her blue eyes. “To me, yes, but not to your grandmother. Tell me, what will distress Lady Chase more? That you’ve jilted a marquess, or that it was weeks before you told her the truth about it?”
Her face paled. “I—what do you mean? She…that is, I did tell her—”
“No, I don’t think so. You see, jilted fiancés make tedious house party guests. Initially I was surprised to receive Lady Hadley’s invitation, but then I realized how things were. You’re keeping secrets, Miss Somerset. Do you think that’s wise?”
“I think, my lord, it shouldn’t matter one way or another to you.”
She pressed her lips together, but it didn’t make them look anything less like rosebuds. “It wouldn’t matter to me, only look at what a mess your lie has caused. Here we are, trapped together at your sister-in-law’s house party for the next two weeks. Rather awkward, really.”
“I never lied—”
“A lie by omission, Miss Somerset, is still a lie.”
“Forgive me, Lord Huntington, but you’re hardly one to lecture me about lies of omission, considering our betrothal.”
Finn frowned. “What do you mean, considering our betrothal?”
She didn’t reply, but went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And despite what my family believes, you know well enough I jilted you. You should have declined the invitation. Indeed, under the circumstances, I can’t account for your being here at all.”
“I told you. We have something to discuss.” Finn closed the distance between them with two long strides. “I came to tell you I reject your dismissal, Miss Somerset. I will marry you, just as I planned.”
He winced at the note of command in his voice. It wasn’t quite the charming proposal Derrick had recommended, but at least there could be no doubt as to his intentions.
Her mouth dropped open in shock, but then a flush of angry color bloomed on her cheekbones. “But I won’t marry you, Lord Huntington. Hence the jilting. That’s rather a grave flaw in your plan, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, but I think you will marry me. Come, Miss Somerset. If you really intended to jilt me, you’d have told your grandmother about it at once. You didn’t, so some part of you must still want this match. I may not be charming or gallant, but your other prospects are grim enough for you to overlook my more grievous flaws.”
“I—you…” She was so furious she had to take several deep breaths before she could speak. “You’re mad! Do you truly believe I jilted you because you’re not charming? How dare you sneak into my bedchamber and presume to order me to—”
“Why did you jilt me, Miss Somerset?”
“You know why! We don’t—”
“No. Don’t tell me we don’t suit.”
“You asked for the reason, my lord. I jilted you because we don’t—”
“No.” Finn’s hands were shaking with the need to press his palm to her lips to keep her from saying it again. “That’s not a reason. It’s an excuse, a way for you to dismiss me with as little bother as possible. Now, let’s try again, shall we? Why did you jilt me? Have you fallen in love with someone else, and wish to be rid of me?”
Don’t say Lord Wrexley.
Finn waited, but she didn’t say Wrexley’s name—she didn’t say anything, but simply stood there, her eyes enormous in her pale face.
The silence stretched long enough for Finn’s nerves to snap. “Miss Somerset? I asked you a question. Why do you wish to be rid of me?”
“It’s you who wishes to be rid of me, I think,” she muttered under her breath. Then, “Were you aware, my lord, Lady Honora is no longer betrothed to Lord Harley? He’s fled to the Continent in disgrace. Pity, but that’s what comes of wagering, isn’t it?”
Finn frowned. What the devil did Lady Honora have to do with it? “Lady Honora? Why should I—”
“She’d make a lovely marchioness, wouldn’t she? Before you insist upon marrying me, you should consider you now have options that weren’t available to you when you first offered for me.”
“Perhaps I don’t admire Lady Honora.”
She shrugged, but her gaze slid away from his. “Why shouldn’t you admire her? Lady Honora is lovely. You couldn’t choose a sweeter, kinder lady than her.”
An incredulous laugh slipped through Finn’s lips. “Are you so determined to be rid of me, you’ve chosen me another bride?”
Her face went whiter still, and when she spoke her voice was so low Finn had to take a step closer to hear her. “You chose her yourself, Lord Huntington, long before you chose me.”
For the briefest moment he was baffled by this response, but then understanding slammed into him, and shock rendered him speechless.
She knows about the wager.
“And I do wish to be rid of you, my lord, because when I marry, I will be that gentleman’s first choice, not his second.”
That odd conversation on the day she’d jilted him, her preoccupation with his satisfaction, and the day before, when he’d found her in Lady Fairchild’s garden, and she’d looked so lost and so defiant at once…
She’d overheard him that day, in the garden, arguing with Lady Beaumont.
There was no other explanation, either for her strange behavior the rest of that afternoon, for the jilting the following day, or even for the mutinous gleam in her eyes right now. She’d heard every word of it.
He thought back to the conversation with Lady Beaumont that day, every ugly word like another blow raining down on him, each more punishing than the last.
Blindfolds and silk scarves, his exotic appetites, his insatiability, and…
Jesus. Lady Beaumont on her knees before him, her busy fingers on his falls.
Finn’s hands clenched into fists as he fought for breath. The wager, as despicable as it was, paled in comparison to the rest of what she’d heard. Lady Beaumont had said more than enough to terrify an innocent virgin like Miss Somerset.
The wager, his mistress, his mysterious dark desires—those were the sins he had to answer for, and he’d answer for them now, right here, in her bedchamber, with her furious blue eyes on him, piercing through his every lie and his every defense.
“Why, Miss Somerset, should you think you’re my second choice? Tell me.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Come now, my lord. Let’s have honesty between us, shall we? You chose me only after Lady Honora was betrothed to Lord Harley.”
He wanted to look away from her, but instead he took a step closer, because if he looked away now, he’d never look her in the eyes again. “But how could you possibly know that? Supposing it’s true, of course.”
“Do you deny it’s true?”
It took courage to look him in the eye and demand an answer she must not want to hear. “I don’t deny it. But you didn’t answer my question. How do you know you were my second choice, after Lady Honora?”
Say it. Because you were there, and you heard every word.
Her chin rose. “Because I heard your mistress Lady Beaumont say so, Lord Huntington, that day in Lady Fairchild’s garden.”
Finn flinched, but this was the truth he’d wanted, as ugly as it was.
“You have appalling taste in mistresses, you know,” she went on, with a little toss of her head. “I don’t suppose she was at her best that day, but even so, she’s…well, she’s a bit of a viper, isn’t she?”
Despite his shame and embarrassment, a reluctant smile rose to Finn’s lips. “I didn’t choose her for her estimable character.”
“Yes, Lady Beaumont is quite…well, I won’t say I admire her, precisely, though I suppose I can understand why a gentleman who did admire her might find a less, ah, experienced lady”—she gestured to herself with a wave of her hand—“not as intriguing.”
He’d made more than one disparaging comment about the tediousness of innocent maidens, but now she’d echoed his sentiments, Finn couldn’t fail to hear how unfair it was. “Are you making excuses for my disgraceful behavior?”
“Oh no, my lord. I think you’re awful enough. But I’m not as naïve as I appear. I’m well aware aristocratic gentlemen keep mistresses. On reflection, I wasn’t terribly surprised to find you have an arrangement with Lady Beaumont.”
“I don’t have an arrangement with Lady Beaumont, Miss Somerset. Not anymore.”
It was true enough, but the fact that he’d broken with her felt a bit like neatly coiling the noose after hanging an innocent man. That one feeble decency didn’t make him any less guilty.
“Yes, I gathered as much. I confess it surprised me you’d dispensed with her, though perhaps not as much as it surprised Lady Beaumont.”
“It wasn’t the only thing that surprised you. There’s more, I think.” Much more. “What else did you hear?”
“I won’t pretend I wasn’t surprised by the—the…well, the business about the…” Her voice trailed off, and her cheeks went scarlet, but she straightened her shoulders, and her gaze met his. “Dark desires.”
Surprised by it? It was a wonder she hadn’t toppled headlong into a rosebush in a shocked swoon. For an innocent lady who’d overheard his mistress describe in salacious detail how he’d taken her against her dressing table, Miss Somerset was remarkably composed. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed with her stoicism, or appalled by it.
“But what Lady Beaumont said, my lord, about the cravats and blindfolds and such, and your, ah…insatiability?”
She squeezed her eyes closed, and in the next breath he was next to her, close enough to inhale the faint scent of soap clinging to her skin. “Look at me.” He waited, his fingers hovering under her chin.
Don’t touch her.
But when she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he let one finger slide along her jaw, tipping her head gently until she looked up him. “Were you frightened by that? Disgusted by it?” She should be both. She should tell him she couldn’t bear to look at him, that she was afraid of him. “Do you think I would hurt you? That I hurt Lady Beaumont?”
Her warm breath drifted over his face as she let out a little sigh. “Why do you want to know? What difference can it possibly make now?”
All the difference in the world, or no difference at all. Finn didn’t know which, he only knew he had to know. “It makes a difference to me.”
She did look at him now, her eyes a darker blue than he’d ever seen them. “No. I don’t believe you’d ever hurt a lady, Lord Huntington. I never would believe it. But you don’t care for me. Not in that way. Lady Beaumont was right about one thing. It’s a mistake for you to marry a lady who won’t be able to satisfy you. A mistake for you, and for the lady in question.”
Finn caught his breath. “You think I don’t want you?”
Wasn’t it true? It had been, at one time, yes, but now…he was still touching her face, and her soft, warm skin under his fingertips dulled each of his other senses, and made everything else in the room fade away.
“If you did, Lord Huntington, you would have kissed me in the garden that day, without ever considering whether it was proper or not.”
His gaze drifted over her face, narrowing on the telltale flush on her cheekbones. He wanted to tell her the truth about why he hadn’t kissed her that day, but what if it became garbled somewhere between his brain and his mouth, and he said it wrong? What if he tried to describe the panic he’d felt when he’d found her in the garden in her torn gown, with Wrexley looming over her, and made a mess of it?
But he looked into her face, at the proud jut of her chin, and the next thing he knew, he was speaking. “Propriety had nothing to do with it.” He traced a finger over her jaw, his voice soft. “I didn’t kiss you because I knew Lady Beaumont was there, just on the other side of the hedge, listening, and I…I couldn’t let her hear that.”
Surprise flitted over her features, and then, for the first time since he’d entered her bedchamber, her face softened.
“If I had kissed you that day, would we still be betrothed? Would you really jilt a marquess over a single kiss? Because even if I kept dozens of mistresses and wagered on every lady in London, not a single one of them would jilt me for it.”
She shrugged, but her throat moved in a nervous swallow. “Any one of those things is sufficient reason to jilt someone, isn’t it?”
As far as society was concerned, wagering and debauchery didn’t disqualify a man either as a gentleman or a husband, especially if that man also happened to be a marquess. “I don’t care if it’s a sufficient reason. I only care if it’s your reason.”
Her eyes searched his, making his breath stop in his chest, but then she pulled back. Not far, but far enough to let him know he’d gotten too close. “No. I jilted you, Lord Huntington, because I can’t…I don’t want to be a marchioness.”
Finn stared at her, once again shocked into silence. She didn’t want to be a marchioness? It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. His preference for Lady Honora, his mistress, his shocking preoccupation with silk scarves and blindfolds—she could have given any number of reasons to justify jilting him he would have no choice but to accept, but that?
“Doesn’t every lady want to be a marchioness?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “No, they don’t. But even if I did aspire to the title, I wouldn’t…I don’t want to be your marchioness. I won’t be—that is, I don’t think I can do justice to it, or to you.”
Finn continued to stare at her, amazed. She was beautiful, accomplished, clever—a diamond of the first water. Why should she think she wouldn’t make a worthy marchioness? “I don’t understand. I chose you because I believe you’d bring honor to the title.”
“No. That isn’t why you chose me. I heard you say it yourself, Lord Huntington. You chose me because you want a lady with no inconvenient passions, no troublesome temper, and no surprises hidden under the surface. At one time I thought I could be that lady, but now…well, that’s not me, and it never can be. I can’t be the perfect marchioness, and I’ll only make us both miserable if I try.”
“What kind of lady are you?” It wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, and even as the words left his mouth a part of Finn hoped she wouldn’t answer. She wasn’t his—not yet, and right now, that was the only answer that mattered.
“The kind that doesn’t become a marchioness. If we marry, you’ll regret me as your choice, Lord Huntington. Not today, perhaps, but someday.”
Finn didn’t argue, because he couldn’t deny it was true. He wanted someone predictable, steady, who’d behave with propriety like a marchioness should, a lady who’d never surprise him, and never challenge him. That was why he’d chosen Miss Somerset in the first place. Because she was naïve, docile, predictable—
Except she wasn’t, and she never had been. She was intelligent and complex, intriguing and spontaneous, and in Finn’s eyes, it made her a less suitable choice for a wife, not more so.
They stood there in the middle of the room for a long, silent moment after that, until Finn roused himself, and cleared his throat. “These ladies who don’t become marchionesses, Miss Somerset. What do they become?”
But he already knew the answer. The ton wasn’t kind to young ladies who flouted the rules. Waywardness led to gossip, and gossip led to ruined reputations.
She shrugged, but the gesture looked forced. “Spinsters, I suppose.”
A strange feeling coursed through Finn then, something more hopeless than anger, or even regret, because whether she ended up a spinster or the wife of a man who didn’t care for her, it would be less than she deserved.
But she’d have him, because she had no other choice, and neither did he. “A spinster, ridiculed and sneered at by the ton. Such a sad fate, for a lady who could be a marchioness.”
A smile drifted over her lips, but it was a sad one. “I’m willing to take that risk.”
Finn turned away from her, but when he reached the door to her bedchamber, he looked back, and his gaze caught and held hers. “I’m not.”