Chapter Nine
Miss Somerset had been wrong to try and kiss him in Lady Fairchild’s garden. She’d been wrong to eavesdrop on his argument with Lady Beaumont, wrong to let Lord Wrexley escort her to Hampshire, and certainly wrong to devote all her attention to the scoundrel this morning.
Finn’s jaw tightened. She’d been wrong to jilt him.
Twice.
In short, she’d been wrong about everything, with one notable exception. She’d been right about her friend. Lady Honora would make an ideal marchioness.
“How does your horse do, Lord Huntington?”
“My horse?” Finn groped blindly for the last two minutes of their conversation, but aside from a stubborn image of blue eyes that insisted on lingering in his head, his mind was a blank. Had they been talking about his horse?
She gave him a sunny smile. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, but you mentioned yesterday he’d been favoring a leg on your journey to Hampshire.”
Yes, he had said that, hadn’t he? Right before he burst into Miss Somerset’s bedchamber and caught her at her wash basin, with damp tendrils of fair hair curling about her flushed cheeks, and silvery droplets of water clinging to her skin.
“Is he quite all right, then?”
Finn dragged his attention back to Lady Honora. “He is. It was just a loose shoe. You’re kind to enquire, my lady.”
She was always kind, to everyone. It was her distinguishing characteristic, and it was true kindness, not the affectation of it so common among ladies of the ton. One had only to look at her to see it, for every line in her face bespoke sincerity.
She was everything he wanted in his marchioness, and by some miracle every obstacle preventing a betrothal between them had vanished. If he wanted to initiate a courtship, this was the moment to do it. They were alone in a garden, the sun bright over their heads. Her sweet brown eyes were fixed on him with a look of admiration that could be tipped over into adoration with only a modest effort on his part, and he…
He was fantasizing about drops of water clinging to the neck of a lady who’d jilted him.
Twice.
“I’m relieved to hear it. Do you intend to ride much while you’re here? I haven’t ridden anywhere but on the promenade for ages now, and I confess riding in Hampshire quite intimidates me.”
“I’d be pleased to escort you.” He smiled down at her. He’d always favored brown eyes, and Lady Honora’s eyes were just the right shade of brown, that is, not too dark or too light, too lively or too dim, and without that troublesome spark hidden in their dark blue depths.
No, not blue, damn it. Brown. Lady Honora’s eyes were brown.
Every other gentleman in London might turn poet over Miss Somerset’s sparkling blue eyes if they wished, but he wasn’t moved by them. Now he thought of it, the placid expression in Lady Honora’s eyes had been the reason he’d chosen her over Miss Somerset from the start. Something about that blue spark made him uneasy. One never knew what mayhem a spark might lead to. Burns. Conflagrations. The fire that burned half of bloody London to ashes had started with a single spark, for God’s sake.
Sparks weren’t to be trusted.
“My goodness, the Hadley House gardens are large, aren’t they, my lord? Confusing, as well. I vow we’ve been walking in circles this past half hour.”
Despite his admiration for her, Finn found himself leaping at the chance to rid himself of Lady Honora’s company. “May I escort you back to the house? I don’t want to exhaust you on the first day of the party.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”
Finn was guiding her around the circular pathway and hurrying her back toward the house before the words had even left her lips.
Miss Somerset had made it clear she couldn’t distinguish an honorable suitor from a rogue, and someone had to keep an eye on Wrexley. Or perhaps it made more sense to keep an eye on Miss Somerset. An extremely close eye—
“Oh, my goodness. I don’t think that’s quite…”
They’d just emerged from the garden, and Lady Honora had come to an abrupt halt with a little cry of dismay. She was staring at the wide expanse of lawn on the south side of Hadley House. “Oh, dear. I daresay this was my cousin’s idea.”
Finn followed her gaze, expecting to see Wrexley and Miss Somerset still at bowls, but what he saw instead made him freeze.
Miss Somerset was dashing across the lawn, heavy handfuls of her skirts clutched in her fists to free her legs, her feet bare. Half of her fair hair had slipped from its pins and was tumbling down her back. Even from this distance Finn could hear her shrieks of breathless laughter as she ran toward Wrexley, who was standing at the other end, leaping in the air, cheering her on, and making a great deal of noise. When she drew closer, he held out his arms to catch her, and she flew into them with one last gleeful cry.
Lady Honora made a distressed sound in her throat. “Oh, dear. My cousin can be…he means no harm, Lord Huntington, but sometimes he forgets propriety.”
Finn’s lips pressed into a hard line. Wrexley hadn’t forgotten a damn thing. Miss Somerset might be hidden from the ladies assembled on the terrace, but anyone who happened to be walking the grounds or in the garden could see her easily enough, and it was no bloody accident. If Lady Hadley’s guests were shocked by Miss Somerset, it was because Wrexley meant for them to be.
“Shall we go see what they’re about?” Finn took care to keep his voice even, but behind his lips his teeth were clenched.
Lady Honora murmured her assent. Finn escorted her across the lawn, but he hardly spared her a thought. His attention remained fixed on Wrexley, who’d released Miss Somerset as soon as he’d steadied her on her feet. Damn good thing, too, as it might be the only thing that kept Finn from dragging the man back to London by his neck.
But Wrexley still stood far too close to her, and as Finn and Lady Honora came up behind them, Finn could hear him speaking to Miss Somerset in a wheedling tone. “Oh, go on, one more race, and I’ll run against you this time. I’ll even give you a start on me.”
“You insult me, my lord, if you think I need a start to beat you.” Miss Somerset attempted to speak in a stern tone, but she was laughing, and it came out flirtatiously, as if she were teasing him. “Anyway, I’m not worried about losing. I’m worried about someone seeing us. I must look a fright.”
“Not at all. Just the opposite, I assure you. I’ve never seen you look as fetching as you do right now.” Wrexley’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Besides, who’s to see us? There’s no one about—”
“Look again, Wrexley. I’m about. I hate to interrupt your game, but you and Miss Somerset have run your last race for today. Or any other day.”
“Oh, Honora, and…Lord Huntington.” Miss Somerset’s eyes went wide when she saw him. She touched a hand to her hair, her eyes sliding closed when she discovered it had come almost entirely loose. She tried to tuck the long curls back into the pins, but she soon realized it was beyond repair and gave up, biting her lip with mortification.
Wrexley, however, didn’t look in the least concerned. “Good afternoon, cousin. Huntington. Where did you two disappear to? You’ve been gone for ages.”
“We haven’t been gone above half an hour.” Finn’s jaw ticked as he slid his gaze from Wrexley to Miss Somerset and back again. “Twenty-five minutes too long, from the look of things here.”
Wrexley shrugged. “Pity you missed the races. It was grand fun, and I would have been delighted to offer you a start as well, Huntington. I’d wager it’s the only way you’d catch me.”
“On the contrary.” Finn stepped closer, close enough so he loomed over the other man. “I’ve caught you already.”
Both men fell silent, staring at each other, the tension between them growing thicker with every moment as each of them refused to look away.
“I’m fatigued, cousin,” Lady Honora said at last, her voice unnaturally high. “Escort me inside, won’t you?” When Wrexley didn’t reply but continued to stare at Finn, Lady Honora grasped his arm and gave it a tug. “Now, if you please, cousin.”
A beat of silence passed, and then another, but at last Wrexley broke the stare with Finn, and glanced down at Lady Honora. “Of course, Honora. As for you, Miss Somerset,” he turned to her, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. “I can’t recall ever spending a more enjoyable afternoon. We’ll have to race again. Soon.”
Wrexley shot one last parting smirk at Finn, then led Honora across the lawn, onto the terrace, and into the house.
“I, ah…well, I suppose I’ll go make myself presentable before tea.” Miss Somerset began to sidle toward the house, but before she could take two steps, Finn’s hand closed around her arm. He didn’t say a word, but he drew her aside, into the shade at the side of the house, where they were hidden from anyone who happened to be strolling in the garden.
“Keep still, if you please, Miss Somerset. This will only take a moment.” He held her arm and swept his gaze over her, from the bare feet he knew she hid under her skirts to the top of her head, where her hair fell in wild disarray over her shoulders. “Let me see. No slippers, skirts hiked to your knees, cheeks flushed, and hair loose from its pins, hanging in a tangled mess down your back. Have I missed anything?”
He almost laughed when her chin shot up. That hadn’t taken long.
“Yes. I’ve also ripped the hem of my gown.”
“Of course you have. Anything else?”
“Are you making a list, my lord? Very well, then. If you must know, I believe I’ve bent my stays.”
Finn’s gaze snapped to her bodice, and once it was there, it took all his concentration to tear it away. He cleared his throat. “Races are one way to spend an afternoon, I suppose.”
“Yes, and rather an enjoyable one, as it turns out. Bowls grow dull after a while, but one can’t say the same of racing.”
“One can’t say the same of Lord Wrexley, either. He’s rather exciting from beginning to end, isn’t he?”
She shrugged. “He’s great fun, yes.”
Some of the tension in Finn’s jaw eased. A lady didn’t refer to a gentleman she was enamored with as “great fun.” Miss Somerset wasn’t in love with Lord Wrexley. Not yet, at least. As long as she remained indifferent to him she was in less danger, but Wrexley’s charm was insidious. He’d turned more than one young lady’s head, with disastrous results. By the time Miss Somerset realized he was manipulating her, it would be too late.
“But you knew it wasn’t a proper activity—no, don’t bother to deny it, Miss Somerset. I can see by your blush you did know it.”
To Finn’s surprise, a grin drifted over her lips. “Yes, I knew it, but proper things are never great fun, are they? When was the last time you ran a race, Lord Huntington? I daresay a bit of impropriety would do you a world of good.”
He frowned, taken aback by the question. “I don’t recall.” Had he ever run a race? Surely he must have, when he was much younger, but if he had, he didn’t remember it. “I’m not sure I ever have.”
“You’ve never run a race? Ever?” She stared at him for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to make of him, then she reached out her hand and rested it on his arm in an almost comforting gesture. “That’s not…well, perhaps marquesses don’t run races.”
“Some do, I think. Just not me.” Finn shrugged, but every nerve in his body strained toward the place where she touched him, his gaze fixed on her slender white fingers curled into his coat.
“You still could, you know.” She swept her hand from his head to his boots. “You’d have to remove your coat, and loosen your cravat. Not quite the thing for such a proper gentleman, I suppose.”
Finn blinked at her, puzzled. Was she teasing him? No one ever teased him. “Or a proper lady.”
“Come now, my lord. It’s not as if I raced down Rotten Row during the fashionable hour. This is a house party in the country, not Hyde Park. The ton will never know I ran across a bowling green, or that Lord Wrexley saw my ankles. My reputation isn’t in danger here.”
“You’re wrong.” As clever as she was, she was also as naïve as every other young lady of her limited experience, and Wrexley knew it well. “Don’t think for a moment because Lord Wrexley encouraged you to race he’ll hesitate to gossip to the ton about it.”
She shrugged off the warning. “I don’t believe he would, but even if he did, what’s he to tell them? That I took off my slippers, and tore my hems? It seems a paltry thing to gossip about.”
“Slippers, yes, but what if he gossiped about how you ran to him?” Finn’s frown deepened to a scowl as he thought of the way she’d leapt into Wrexley’s arms.
“He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Yes, he would, Miss Somerset. If he thought he could gain something by it, he’d do it without a second thought. He intentionally led you into an impropriety today because he believes he has something to gain from it. He has designs on you, and he wants you vulnerable.”
“Designs on me?” She let out a short laugh. “That sounds quite ominous. I know you and Lord Wrexley don’t care much for each other, Lord Huntington, but he’s not the rake you make him out to be, any more than you’re the perfect gentleman you pretend to be.”
Finn’s breath left his lungs in a painful rush. It was true, and yet her words wounded him far more than he would have thought possible. “You’re referring to the wager?”
“Yes. It was a dishonorable thing to do. I hope you’re not going to try and persuade me otherwise.”
“No. It was despicable, and I regret it extremely.” He paused, then said, “Do you suppose Lord Wrexley regrets it, as well?”
She stared at him, her eyes going wide as his meaning sank in. “Lord Wrexley? He—”
“He was there that night. He wagered on you, but he lost you to me. He tried to persuade me to wager for you a second time, but I declined him. If the wager is sufficient reason for you to jilt me, then it’s sufficient reason for you to discourage Lord Wrexley.”
“I—the wager wasn’t the only reason I jilted you.”
She was fighting to hold onto her composure, but Finn could see he’d shaken her, and he ran a rough hand through his hair. If he had even a drop of Wrexley’s charm he’d know how to speak softly to her, to persuade her, but he’d never known how to shatter the hard, impenetrable shell that separated him from other people, and he didn’t know now. He only knew it couldn’t be done in one conversation.
Perhaps not even in one lifetime.
But he tried. He drew in a deep breath and spoke as gently as he could. “When I left to walk in the garden, you and Lord Wrexley were playing bowls. How did you end up running races with him?”
“He asked what my sisters and I used to play when we were children. When I told him we used to run races, he suggested we do that.”
So clever of Wrexley, to discover what she wanted most, and then cajole her into taking it, regardless of the consequences.
“We used to run races at home, in Surrey,” she added, a dreamy smile drifting across her lips. “My father, my sisters—even my mother, on occasion. We never thought about whether or not it was proper, only if it was good fun. It always was.”
A strange, tight sensation gripped Finn’s chest as he watched the smile flirting at the corners of her lips. There was so much joy in that smile it made his heart quicken until he felt dizzy with it.
What must it have been like, to run races with your family? To look back on your memories with joy? To recall moments of perfect happiness when you closed your eyes, instead of a lonely childhood, where one day unfolded after another, all of them the same, except each one was longer and emptier than the last?
What would it feel like, if she smiled like that for me?
She never had, because he would have noticed it. He would have noticed her.
Finn swallowed as his gaze moved over her face. Her cheeks were still pink from the exercise, and the fair hair escaping her pins fell in a long, heavy cascade of golden waves around her face and shoulders. Was it as soft as it looked? If he reached out and captured a lock of it, would it feel like strands of heavy silk between his fingers? If he brushed his fingertip against the corner of her mouth, would that dreamy smile disappear, or would it deepen? Could he catch it in his hand, and make it his?
“Keep still, Miss Somerset.”
Her lips parted on a tiny gasp when he reached for her, the sound so quiet he felt it more than heard it, but she didn’t jerk away from him, and his fingers closed around a hairpin still tangled in one of her curls. He slid it loose gently, and then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he lingered, coaxing the silky strands of her hair to fall between his fingers.
He’d touched her before—her elbow, her arm, her gloved hand—but he’d never touched her like this. He waited for her to push him away, for her harsh laugh, and quick dismissal.
It never came. She only swallowed, then said, “You really never ran a race before? Not even when you were a child?”
His gaze darted to her slender throat, then back to her face, and a forlorn laugh tore from his throat before he could stop it. “I was never a child.”
She gazed back at him without speaking, but her eyes went so soft for a single moment he wanted to say more—to tell her everything about himself—but then he noticed the sympathy in those blue depths, and the moment was gone.
I’m the Marquess of Huntington now. I don’t need anyone’s pity.
He released the lock of her hair and let it fall back to her shoulder. “Lord Wrexley, Miss Somerset. You need to be on your guard against him.”
As soon as he spoke, her face closed. Her eyes snapped back into focus, her expression went from dreamy to wary, and everything inside Finn went colder, as if a dark cloud had obliterated the sun.
She shook her head. “He’s my dear friend’s cousin, Lord Huntington, and he’s never been anything but kind and respectful toward me.”
“Respectful? It was Lord Wrexley who let Lady Beaumont into Lady Fairchild’s garden the day of the scavenger hunt. I think he hoped you’d discover her there, and it would cause a rift between us. Not quite the actions of an honorable gentleman, are they?”
“Forgive me, Lord Huntington, if I choose to treat anything you say about Lord Wrexley with skepticism. When you found me in the garden that day, after you left Lady Beaumont, Lord Wrexley was—”
Finn tensed. That tear in her gown…
“Did he touch you?” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell me the truth at once.”
Her eyes widened, and in some distant part of his brain, under the sudden roar in his ears, he knew he must be alarming her. He managed to get a deep breath into his lungs, then another, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. “How long were you alone with him?”
“I told you already, it wasn’t above five minutes. You keep accusing him of wrongdoing, and he’s perfectly innocent of it.”
A hard laugh tore from Finn’s chest. “Wrexley is many things, but he isn’t innocent. If I hadn’t happened to come upon you in the garden that day, there’s no telling what he might have done.”
“Indeed? Maybe he would have kissed me.”
The thought of a kiss between her and Wrexley made Finn rigid with fury. “He would have done whatever he could get away with.”
“And he could get away with a good deal—at least, that was your opinion last week, when you implied I’d engaged in improprieties with him.”
Finn didn’t realize he’d moved closer to her until his face was mere inches from hers. He stared down at her, his chest heaving with each harsh, furious breath. “I misspoke. I never meant to suggest any such thing, but I mean what I say about Lord Wrexley. He isn’t a man you can trust, and it’s clear he’s pursuing you. Stay away from him.”
Her eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. “It sounds as if you’re giving me an order, my lord.”
Finn didn’t blink. “I am.”
Derrick would have my head if he could hear this conversation.
“You have no right to tell me who I may and may not see. I’ll make up my own mind about Lord Wrexley.”
“By the time you do, it’ll be too late.”
An angry flush rose to her cheeks. “You do him an injustice.”
Finn’s temper flared in response, because he knew she was angry on Wrexley’s behalf, not her own. “I’m trying to help you—”
“I don’t want your help. We’re no longer betrothed, and never shall be again, so you may consider your obligations toward me to be satisfied, Lord Huntington. I thank you for your concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“No, I won’t excuse you. Not on any count. You haven’t any choice but to accept my offer. Your future, your grandmother’s wishes—”
“Accept a man who will demand utter propriety of his wife, even as he indulges in every kind of debauchery himself? I know a proper marchioness would overlook such a thing, but I can’t.”
“You’d rather have a man who doesn’t care if you ruin yourself, as long as he gets his greedy hands on your fortune?”
Her face drained of color, but she shook him off and turned away without another word. Finn went after her, determined to make her listen, but when they came around the side of house, he saw Lady Tallant and Lord Derrick standing on the terrace.
“There you are, Miss Somerset.” Lady Tallant took in Miss Somerset’s disheveled appearance with a raised eyebrow, then turned a curious look on Finn. “And Lord Huntington. Good afternoon.”
“Lady Tallant.” Finn bowed.
“Come along, Miss Somerset. Lady Hadley was asking for you.”
Miss Somerset didn’t look at him again, but disappeared through the terrace doors behind Lady Tallant.
Lord Derrick hung back. “You don’t look pleased, Huntington.”
“I found Miss Somerset alone with Wrexley on the green just now. They were running races, and she was—”
“Let me guess. Running straight into Wrexley’s arms?”
“Among other things. He wants her, Derrick.”
“Yes, I’m afraid there’s no question of that, but it won’t matter what Wrexley wants if she agrees to have you back.”
“She didn’t agree. She’s refused me a second time.” Finn dragged a hand through his hair, then let it drop to his side. “Perhaps you were right about that wager, Derrick. Perhaps it was cursed.”
“Don’t say Lord Wrexley told her about the wager?”
“Oh, no. It’s a great deal worse than that. That day, in Lady Fairchild’s garden? She overheard me arguing with Lady Beaumont.”
Derrick’s face fell. “Bloody hell. How bad is it?”
“It was Lady Beaumont, Derrick. On her best day she’s a poisonous viper. I’m sure you can imagine how bad it was.”
“Christ, Huntington. This changes everything. She’ll never accept you now.”
“She will.” Finn’s voice was hard. “I can’t just let him have her, Derrick.”
“You may not have a choice. You can’t control everything, no matter how much you might wish to.”
Finn let out a harsh laugh. “So you suggest I let Lord Wrexley control it, instead?”
“I know you feel responsible for Miss Somerset, but—”
“I am responsible for her, even more so than I first realized. Don’t you see? Given what she overheard in the garden that day, she had no other choice than to jilt me, but that won’t stop the ton from destroying her. Even if she manages to slip through Wrexley’s grasp, her future and her sisters’ prospects are all laid to waste. She has to marry me, or she’s ruined.”
Derrick didn’t argue, but his breath left his lungs in a weary sigh. “She has to accept you first, Huntington, and under the circumstances, I don’t see what you can do to persuade her.”
“I’ll do whatever I must. Wrexley’s immoral, reckless—a man without principles or boundaries. He’s out of control, Derrick.”
Lord Derrick was quiet for a moment, then his gaze met Finn’s. “Who do you suppose is more dangerous, Huntington? A man so out of control he risks everything, or one who’s so tightly controlled, he risks nothing?”
Finn didn’t answer, and after a moment Lord Derrick sighed, and followed the ladies into the house.
“The first man is a danger to others. The second is a danger only to himself,” Finn muttered at last, but he may as well not have bothered.
There was no one there to hear him.