What A Gentleman Wants (26 page)

“I shall try. But these stems are crushed, Molly.”

Her daughter’s lower lip went out. It was near her nap time. “Try,” she said mutinously. Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Please, Mama,” added Molly with a suddenly sunny smile. “And I’ll put flowers in your hair!”

Hannah couldn’t help smiling as her little girl ran around picking more flowers. Almost without thought her fingers split the wilted flower stems and wove the daisies into a chain, then joined it into a circle for the crown. At least she hadn’t forgotten how to do that.

When Molly had sprinkled her head with buttercups, and was proudly wearing her own floral crown, Hannah got to her feet, swatting grass from her skirt.

The sun has faded behind the clouds. “Time to go back, Molly.”

“Oh, yes! May I show Celia my crown?” Molly jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

“Yes, but then it will be time to rest.” Molly was either too excited about showing Celia or too tired to protest, and she ran on ahead, leaving Hannah to collect Molly’s shoes and stockings and release the tadpoles back into the pond. She turned toward the house, her draughts turning toward Marcus again.

Perhaps she ought to consider leaving London early; surely by now they had presented a good enough front to avert scandal. Since the Throckmorton ball, she had attended half a dozen balls, several soirees, some dinners, and even a masquerade with Marcus. Aldiough both of them had maintained the air of polite fondness, an unwanted tension seemed to sizzle just below the surface. Often she would catch him looking at her almost curiously, as if he couldn’t decide what to make of her. Off her imagination would go, wondering about that look. Was he puzzled by something she’d done? Was he wondering what on earthshe would do next to shock him? Or was he considering something else, something related to that kiss, and the way she had thrown her arms around his neck and pulled him close when he would have retreated? She wanted to know, and more than once nearly blurted the question out, but luckily had not. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know his answer, no matter which way it went

It was a long walk back to the house. She took her time, lifting her face to the breeze that smelled of rain. She trudged up the gentle rise toward the terrace, clutching the tadpole bottle in one hand and her skirt in the other, only to stop cold, just short of running into the man who stood with his back to her. Before she could move, he turned.

“Ah,” he said, sounding pleased. “There you are. Harper said you’d gone walking.”

“Yes.” Flustered, she dropped her skirt, hoping it wasn’t covered with grass stains. “I took Molly out.”

His eyes fell to the bottle in her hand. “To the pond?”

Hannah’s face felt warm. “Yes. Tadpoles,” she said, lifting the bottle. He smiled a little.

“David used to catch frogs there to put in the tutor’s boots.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Why am I not surprised to hear that?”

He continued smiling. “The tutor was very surprised.”

“Unpleasantly, I expect.”

“I believe the frogs were preferable to some of the other things the poor fellow found in his belongings.”

Hannah laughed again, trying to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear discreedy. Her wayward heart had jumped again. Simply standing here laughing with him shouldn’t make her so unaccountably happy.

“Would you care to take a turn about the garden?” he asked. “I wanted to have a word, if I might.”

She wet her lips. What could he want? “Of course.” She put her things on a nearby bench. He cocked his head, and she fell in step beside him, their steps crunching on the gravel.

For a few moments Marcus said nothing, just walked beside her. She looked absolutely lovely today, with her cheeks pink and her hair charmingly windblown. He would like to have Lawrence paint her, just like this, so he could forever remember it.

“You have flowers in your hair.”

Her hand flew to her head and she stopped. “Oh!

“Yes, Molly put them in.” She ran her fingers over the black curls, plucking out the little yellow flowers.

Marcus watched her, enchanted. Without thinking he reached out and pulled a blossom loose. The stem snagged in her hair, and he reached out to work it free. Her fingers tangled with his. She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink and her eyes sparkled with rueful laughter. Marcus just stared down at her, helplessly caught by some force he couldn’t name and wasn’t sure he wanted to know about

“It’s a frightful mess,” she said with a hint of apology, breaking the spell that held him. “I’m afraid I—I haven’t spent as much time fixing it…” She lowered her voice and looked around. “Have you discovered anything else about Lily?” she asked in a bare whisper.

Marcus blinked. He had come after her specifically to ask what she might have observed Lily doing, but the thought had gone straight out of his head when he had noticed the flowers in her hair. “Nothing much, more’s the pity,” he said. “I was hoping you might have.”

She sighed. “No. I can’t look at her without thinking of it, though. I have the most awful feeling my thoughts show on my face and she’ll know we saw her.”

“That would almost be fortunate if she suspected.” Marcus resumed their stroll. “If she began to fear she was about to be found out, she might do something that would help us.” He hadn’t meant to say “us”; he had meant to say “me.” Hannah wasn’t involved in his investigation.

“Yes, I suppose.” She heaved another sigh. “But now I cannot bear for her to come and go as before. I would much rather do my hair myself”—she tugged at her tumbled hair with a grimace—“than summon Lily to brush it out.”

It looked as though it would come out of its pins and cascade down her back at any moment. He cleared his throat. “It’s charming.”

She pulled another tiny yellow flower from it “You flatter me.” But she smiled.

Marcus twirled the buttercup he still held. Not many people accused him of flattery. He let the flower fall. “Perhaps you should have another maid,” he said, trying to get the conversation back on the topic he had intended. “I don’t want to put Lily on her guard yet.”

“No.” Her profile was somber. “Molly does love her. I haven’t been able to forbid her to go with Lily, although I’ve finally given in and allowed Rosalind to send around for a nursery maid.”

He raised a brow. “Finally?”

She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t want her to hire another servant who would only be temporary.”

Marcus looked down. Ah, yes. There was that. That was
not
the topic he wanted. They had come to the edge of the formal gardens, overlooking the carpet of lawn leading down to the river. A hedge of rambling roses bordering the garden had been allowed to run a bit wild, and the scent of June roses drifted around them on the damp air. On impulse he picked one of the roses and held it out.

She gave him a surprised glance. “Thank you.”

The petals were the same deep pink of her lips. He wondered if they were as soft. Instead of handing her the rose, he ignored her outstretched hand and tucked the flower into her hair, behind her ear. The smile she flashed him was almost shy, but pleased. Marcus felt a great rush of pleasure himself, just for having made her smile.

“Lily rarely leaves the grounds, and when she does it’s unexceptional. She walks out with a young man who’s a tailor’s assistant, but has no other family. She’s been with my family for years, as was her mother before her. Nothing she’s done has been obviously suspicious.”

She blinked up at him, her blue eyes puzzled. “But if she were a spy, wouldn’t that also be the case?”

“Yes,” Marcus conceded, still not sure why he had told her everything he knew about the maid. He must have felt sorry for her, worrying about whether to trust the girl or not. It was only natural that she didn’t—Marcus himself didn’t—but after being watched every moment of the last week, the maid had done absolutely nothing faultworthy. She hadn’t even snuck around the house after dark anymore. Marcus had honestly expected her to do at least that again, at which point he would have been ready to pounce, and question her within an inch of her life. It was yet one more frustration among the many that were mounting by the day.

“However,” he went on, as Hannah still looked uncertain, “she’s done nothing else to cause alarm. Her history is exemplary—as it must have been, to be chosen for your lady’s maid—and as she’s done nothing else, that night may be supposed to have been a momentary lapse.”

“Perhaps.” She pushed her hair behind her ear again, josding the rose. “ That’s all reassuring, but still… it was a serious lapse, if it were a lapse at all. Perhaps she’s just a really clever actress who’s been plotting and planning for years, so slowly no one’s ever figured her for a thief—” Hannah broke off at the surprise on Marcus’s face, and blushed furiously. Her wretched imagination again. What was wrong with her? She was normally so practical and level-headed. “Have you any idea where David’s gone?” she blurted.

His gaze slid away from hers. “No.”

She gave a frustrated huff. “If only he would show himself and explain things! I can’t help but feel

Lily’s behavior is somehow connected to David’s disappearance.“

“Perhaps.” He still wasn’t looking at her, but gazing out across the lawns with a remote expression. “It could also be pure coincidence. David has a knack for making a hash of things for everyone except himself. No doubt he’s hidden away in some country house with a few of his friends and a great deal of whiskey, having a good laugh at my expense.”

Hannah felt her mouth fall open. “Would he really do that?”

He shot her a dry look. “He would. Trust me.”

“Oh, I do,” she assured him, then didn’t know where to look as his gaze turned probing and thoughtful. Hannah didn’t want to venture down that conversational path. She did trust him; she just wasn’t sure she trusted herself around him. If he made it clear he wanted to kiss her again, she didn’t doubt he would stop if she told him to. The frightening part was that she wasn’t at all sure she would stop him. Last time she hadn’t. Last time she had thrown herself at him and kissed him first

“But if David hadn’t gone missing, would you have treated Lily’s actions any differently?” she asked, tearing her mind away from such thoughts. She would not think about kissing him in this secluded, rose-scented corner of the garden, the air electric with a threatening rainstorm.

“Yes,” he said, still staring at her. “I would have dismissed her at once.”

“So don’t you think it’s all connected, too?”

“I cannot eliminate the possibility,” he replied after a moment. “So, you are correct, it would make things a great deal easier if David would return and simply explain what he’s been up to. If I knew without a doubt—” He hesitated, then started walking again.

Hannah followed. “But I don’t. I’ve had men looking for David since the moment I realized he had disappeared, and they’ve not found him. He seems to have vanished from the face of the earth.”‘

“Are you worried?” she asked quietly. Perhaps she shouldn’t ask. But, she decided, he would certainly have no trouble telling her if she were out of line.

He sighed. “More than I can justify.”

Hannah ducked her head and nodded. She was, too, especially about Lily. She couldn’t shake the thought that Lily was up to no good.

“But David’s done this all before,” Marcus went on. “He’s tweaked my nose, broken his word, caused some scandal, and then taken a holiday in a more hospitable port. If there weren’t this question of forgery, tins time would be no different than most otfiers.”

“Perhaps you ought to consider telling Rosalind,” she suggested. “He might have written sometfüng to her that would help.”

He shook his head. “No. I read the last letters he wrote her, and there was nothing helpful in them.” He turned to her as if on a sudden thought. “Did he by any chance say anything before coming to London?”

Hannah thought hard. The trouble was, she hadn’t known to suspect anything then, when she had been caught up in her own worries. “Not that I can think of,” she answered at last.

“Ah,” he said. “I thought not.”

They walked in silence for a while. Hannah had no idea where they were going, nor did she care. The sun was completely gone by now, and distant thunder rumbled in warning, but she would have walked with him even if it had already been raining. Away from any watching eyes, she felt she saw the real Marcus, not the duke, and that man grew more and more intriguing by the day. And as they strolled farther from the house, her silly heart sped up in excitement.

“And things are well… otherwise?” he said, his voice lifting in question.

“Yes,” Hannah said cautiously.

“Ah. Excellent.” They walked some more. “No troubles at all?”

Hannah darted a sideways glance at him just as he did the same at her. They both looked away at once, almost guiltily. “Not that I can think of,” she replied, keeping her voice even. “Should there be?”

“No, no,” he said hastily. “I merely wanted to make certain you were content”

Content with what? with the fact that he had kissed her? That nothing else had happened? Or something else entirely? “What do you mean?”

He stopped, and she did as well a step later. “I wondered if you had any… reservations about the other night.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “The other night.”

“Yes.”

“When we saw Lily?”

“No!” He winced. “Yes. That night. But not seeing Lily.”

Hannah rolled her lower lip between her teeth. “You mean when I kissed you?”

He blinked. His eyes fell to her mouth. “Yes,” he said, his voice gone low and raspy.

Her throat was dry. He wanted to kiss her again, she could see it in his eyes. Hannah felt rooted to the spot, tongue-tied with anticipation. “No,” she said breathlessly.

He could kiss her. There was no reason why he shouldn’t. Marcus gripped his hands behind his back. She would let him, he knew it; he could see it in her eyes, that she would let him and even wanted him to kiss her. What would be the harm, if he did? Besides, that is, losing himself completely.

Thunder rumbled, closer than before. The breeze kicked up, blowing loose curls and rose petals around her upturned face. For the first time in his life Marcus couldn’t make a decision. One kiss could be dismissed as a mistake, an indiscretion. Two could not. Did he care? Did she?