Forbidden (17 page)

"Next step?" Essie questioned.

"Yes, of course." Cross gave her a curious
expression.

"Oh! Yes! In the… in the ruse." She
swallowed, disappointment pricking her heart as she was reminded
that this wasn't real. Was it?

"Would tomorrow at four be acceptable?" He
took a step closer.

"Perfectly acceptable." She glanced away,
then back, forcing herself to remain in control of her swirling
emotions.

"I believe I shall take my leave until
tomorrow. After all, we want to cause talk… not scandal." He winked
and reached for her hand. Softly, he placed a warm kiss to her
wrist, lingering for a moment longer than was customary. Rising, he
focused on her once more, his blue gaze holding her captive. "Until
tomorrow." With a bow, he left.

"Until tomorrow," Essie whispered as she
watched him smile and turn to walk away.

Anna took at tentative step towards her,
breaking the spell. Reluctantly, Essie glanced to her.

"Anna…" Essie began, pausing as she
considered how to word her question.

"Yes?"

"How can one know someone their whole life…
and suddenly not know them at all?" Essie whispered, casting one
final glance to Cross' retreating form.

"I'm not sure I understand," Anna
replied.

"Never mind." Essie shook her head.

Because how could she expect Anna to answer a
question she doubted anyone knew the answer to, except for
Cross.

Perhaps tomorrow at the park she'd unravel a
bit more of the mystery, the prospect was both alarming and
provocative.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

Cross ran his fingers
through his hair and sighed. It wasn't a huge ordeal, simply a ride
in the park.

Yet if it were so simple, why did his heart
hammer in his chest at the very thought? If it were a trivial
manner, why was he so bloody nervous? It was damn annoying.

Last night had been almost too good to be
true. Essie had practically melted into his embrace while they
waltzed; yet her delightfully playful personality shined brightly,
twisting his heart further into knots. It was unbelievable how one
person could wield so much power over another.

And not have a clue.

But he had to admit, that the whole plan was
going quite well. He had danced with her many times in the past,
yet last night she seemed to finally notice him, to recognize him
as more than Anna's brother.

To see him as a man.

It was delirious, wonderful and altogether
frightening yet at the same time empowering. Because all he was
doing… was being himself. Contrary to what she believed, he wasn't
playing a game; he wasn't acting. Every touch, every word was
spoken from an authentic heart; from a mad and driving desire to
pursue till she belonged to him alone.

He descended the stone steps of his bachelor
lodgings and made his way towards Mayfair. It wasn't a long walk,
but enough of a distance that his heart would have a chance to
relax. At first, he had thought of taking the curricle through the
park, but as he considered it—and the weather allowed—he decided
that a simple walk would suit his purposes in a finer way. With a
walk, he could go slowly, talk endlessly, and flirt easily.

Especially flirt.

He didn't want to waste one moment with
Essie, but use each second as an opportunity to win her heart.

As he neared her residence, he ascended the
stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. Her family's butler
answered and regarded him coolly.

"Lord Crossby to visit Miss Esther
Flanguard." He withdrew a card.

The butler held out an oval, silver tray and
accepted the card then nodded and disappeared into the
residence.

Cross turned and regarded the boxwoods
growing beside her door, aware of them but not truly seeing them as
he listened for the butler's return.

As if on cue, the butler appeared. "She will
be out directly," he informed in a cool tone.

"Thank you." Cross nodded.

Moments later Essie made her way out the
door, a young maid in tow.

"Hello, Cross." Essie's cheerful voice washed
over him, heating the blood in his veins. Her lavender walking
dress fluttered and swirled about her feet. When the breeze lifted
a wisp of hair that peeked from beneath her hat, Cross' hands ached
with longing to tear off the straw headpiece and free her hair to
flow through his fingers.

Essie arched one fine brow, bringing him back
to earth.

He returned her smile. "Hello, Essie. You're
looking beautiful as always."

A rosy blush highlighted her creamy skin.
"Thank you. But we have no one to impress right now." She shrugged
and glanced away.

Cross swallowed, but pressed on. "I'm not one
to compliment needlessly, Essie. While my words were indeed meant
to flatter you, I was also speaking simply because they were the
truth, purely stated. You
are
beautiful. Regardless of the
company we are in, the truth does not change." He nodded and
gestured for them to walk.

She didn't make a move, but seemed to study
his face, her gaze roaming his features, searching his eyes. "Thank
you."

Cross felt a little too vulnerable under her
scrutiny, so he tried to lighten the conversation with a bit of
humor. "Ah! So she does know how to take a compliment!" He teased,
grinning at her.

"Ha ha," she teased and poked his arm. But
she followed his lead as they descended the stairs and made their
way along the street.

The air was clean from the morning's light
rain; the breeze became a soft whisper that flirted with Essie's
hair, teasing it and blowing wisps of it softly against her
cheek.

It was utterly distracting.

In the most delicious way possible.

Glancing at the road ahead of them, Cross
decided to ask the one question he most certainly didn't want to
ask, but needed answered. "If you don't mind me asking, is there a
particular Gentleman that you are wishing to attract, you know,
with the whole idea of wanting what they can't have." He grinned,
though his teeth were clenched after he spoke the words.
Damn
right, they can't have. Because you are mine!
He wanted to
shout, but he held himself in check, awaiting her answer.

Essie seemed startled slightly, but
recovered, turning to glance at him, she continued walking and
appeared to consider his question. "I'm not quite sure, honestly.
There's Lord Renguard, Viscount Marley, and I had thought to
consider Lord Marchton, but he seems particularly attached to Miss
Wessel. So to answer your question, no. I have no particular
gentleman in mind." She took a breath and studied the scenery as
they walked in silence for a few moments.

"I see." Cross nodded. While he was thrilled
that she didn't have a particular regard for a specific gentleman,
he hated that she was even considering Renguard or Marley. Both of
them were good enough gentlemen, but it stung to think that she'd
consider them… and not him.

"I figure I have at least a bit of time to
consider my options. Tell me, what do you think of Viscount Marley
and Lord Renguard?" She asked, turning her blue eyes to him,
inquiring innocently.

Cross tried not to grimace, because he
wouldn't lie. "Both men are upstanding gentlemen." He shrugged
indifferently.

"Do you have any one that you could suggest?"
She asked lightly.

As if he weren't already dying on the inside
from asking the first question. But he needed to know just
who
his competition was. He took a deep breath, and prepared
himself.

"Other than myself?" Cross asked, keeping his
tone light on purpose, his eyes trained on hers, searching, gauging
her reaction.

Essie giggled, poking him in the arm with her
gloved hand. "Aside from the obvious, of course."

"It's always nice to feel wanted." He sighed
dramatically.

"Tell me about it." She spoke lightly, but
she glanced away.

Cross paused. She glanced to him
confused.

"Essie, while it is lovely and good to be
wanted, the most important opinion of your worth, is your own. Does
Essie think she's lovely and good? Does Essie think she's
beautiful? Is Essie proud of the amazing woman she's become?" He
lowered his chin, spearing her with an earnest gaze.

"I… hadn't quite thought of it that way." She
furrowed her brow and lowered her gaze, as if deep in thought.

"Because if
you
like you, to hell with
the rest of the world. Pardon my language." He shrugged
unapologetically, grinning as she lifted her gaze to his with a
slight gasp.

"Don't pretend to be so offended, you old
stick," he pestered and led them back along the path towards the
park.

"Me? And old stick? That's like me calling
you a prude," she teased, tugging on his arm slightly.

"Why cover what is meant to be
appreciated?"

"Yes that was certainly your motto as a young
child. Why, I'm sure I should be scandalized with all the times
I've seen your bare chest," she baited him, raising a daring eye
brow.

"I hold fast to my earlier sentiment." He
grinned. "But I must say, the view is infinitely more… impressive
these days."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

"Yes, after all, we're after gossip—"

"Not scandal," Essie finished.

"Indeed," he replied.

They walked on in companionable silence for a
bit. Essie shifted slightly, turning to him he saw a curious light
in her eyes, "Cross? Why aren't you married?"

He almost tripped.
That
was not
expected.

"You've failed to propose, so alas I find
myself waiting." He shrugged.

"Tease! Honestly, though. You're handsome,
you have a great sense of humor, many attributes a woman would
find… favorable in a husband."

"Ah yes, favorable. What a… passionate word,"
Cross replied back, a playfully irritated tone to his voice. "All
men dream of being favorable."

Essie pinched his arm.

"Ouch!"

"You deserved that. You know what I
mean."

"I most certainly did
not
deserve
that! Abuse, I tell you! And no, I do
not
know what you
meant!" He rubbed his arm dramatically and narrowed his eyes at
her.

She sighed in an exasperated manner. "I
meant," She drew out the word. "That I can't quite figure you out,
and I'm trying to."

"So I'm a mystery? That's quite different
than asking why a man isn't married when he's so… favorable." He
tossed the word back, grinning.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
she asked, blushing slightly.

"No."

"Delightful," she muttered.

"So, let me see if I understand this. You
want to know why I'm not married, you think I have favorable
traits, and you don't understand me?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Welcome to the world of me trying to figure
out women." He paused and bowed dramatically.

"Foul!" She cried as she laughed delightedly.
"You're a miserable wretch." She spoke through her laugh.

"I'm quite a few things. All of which are…
mysterious." He wagged his eyebrows.

"Yet another thing I'm sure to never live
down." She covered her face with her hands.

"Essie, you should know by now that I truly
do not need additional fodder when it comes to things to hold over
your head. I've known you for far too long."

"Yes but…" Her smile fell slightly, replaced
by a curious and dangerous glint to her eyes. "That's so puzzling
to me, Cross. You know me so well, you remember… well you remember
far more than I wish you to," she replied almost begrudgingly. "Yet
I… sometimes wonder if I…" She paused, searching his face then
glancing away.

"If?" he asked gently, waiting, hanging on
her every word. Hoping for perhaps a sign that just maybe, she was
truly seeing him.

"Miss Flanguard!"

Cross glanced up, utterly annoyed at the
interruption. And upon seeing the person inquiring, he grew far
more irritated.

"Hello, Miss Montray." Essie, ever the lady,
offered the woman a smile and a polite nod.

"Miss Montray." Cross bowed.

"I'm so thankful to see you. I…" She glanced
cautiously to Cross.

"Yes?" Essie spoke, bringing back her
attention.

"That is, I'm very sorry about yesterday. I'm
not sure what transpired… but there was one element of the
conversation that has me… concerned." She spoke hesitantly as she
glanced down and picked at her gloves. "Perhaps you could walk a
bit with me?"

"Miss Montray, I'd be happy to answer any
questions you have, and I insist on the integrity of my escort,"
Essie replied, gripping Cross' arm tightly.

He felt like soaring. She trusted him
implicitly and had said as much.

"Very well…" Miss Montray's gaze darted
between them. "Did you indeed, part with Lord Trighton amicably? I
understand it is none of my affair, so please forgive my intrusive
question." She blushed and glanced away. "But I need to know."

"Indeed we did, Miss Montray," Essie
answered.

Because while it wasn't her idea to break the
betrothal, she
had
agreed to it.

"That is… a great relief to hear." Miss
Montray sighed, smiling. "That's what I was led to believe by Lord
Trighton, but after last night, I questioned the truth of his
statement. As I'm sure you're aware, as the
ton
harbors a
penchant for gossip, my family needs me to marry into a title but
we cannot have any scandal attached." She nodded firmly

"I see," Cross replied, his expression
thoughtful.

"If I may offer one slight suggestion?" Essie
spoke carefully. Cross watched as she picked at her dress, seeming
nervous.

"Of course," Miss Montray answered.

"Take your time. I've learned that
sometimes...we can be easily misled," Essie offered.