The sapphire eyes sparked with possessiveness as she took in Lady Christina and Trent. Jealousy flared sharply across her lovely features before Marissa turned her back on him. She straightened her shoulders, her attention returning to Jordana.
That gives me a fair amount of hope.
Trent bowed again. “Enjoy your walk. Lady Christina. Miss Applewaite.”
Lady Christina made a poof of disappointment as Miss Applewaite took her arm, moving her back the way they’d come, a footman and maid trailing at a discreet distance.
Trent hurried away, lengthening his strides to catch up with his daughter and Marissa. The two had their arms linked, and the sound of Marissa’s laughter met his ears.
A wonderful sense of joy filled Trent at the picture the two made, with their dark heads bent together like conspirators, their skirts swaying in tandem as they strolled along the path.
He quickened his steps.
There was nothing Trent wanted more than to see the sight before him for the remainder of his days.
9
Marissa listened with half an ear to Jordana who was babbling away about something to do with body parts. Honestly, the girl seemed enamored of grisly details. But she didn’t stop Jordana’s earnest chattering. Marissa had been far too busy watching Lady Christina flutter about Haddon like an overprivileged butterfly. She’d heard enough of the conversation between them to know the little nitwit had dismissed Marissa as nothing more than an elderly matron, undeserving of attention from a man like Haddon.
A raw, biting possessiveness had filled Marissa sosharplythat her fingertips had burned as if scorched by a hot pot of tea. Folding her hands into her skirts, she forced her features to relax. It wouldn’t do for Haddon to guess at her feelings. She’d loved Reggie, but he’d never made her feel as if she needed to defend her claim on him.
But you don’t have a claim on Haddon.
Marissa had to resist the urge to march across the grass and slap Christina Sykes on her pretty, pink little face and challenge her for Haddon. Pistols at dawn. Or swords. She’d even defended herself with a large frying pan once.
Little twit.
“Have I said something to make you angry?” Jordana said. “You’re scowling.”
Haddon was nearly at their side, his legs making short work of the distance to join them.
“What? No, dear,” Marissa assured her, forcing a smile to her lips. “Whatever would make you think such a thing?”
“Papa says I’m far too blunt at times. I shouldn’t have told you about the books I’d gotten at Thrumbadge’s. I suppose the subject is somewhat grisly.”
“Not at all, Jordana.” Truthfully, she hadn’t been listening. Something about the way blood pumped through a person’s heart.Very disturbing.She’d tuned it out. “There is very little which offends me, else I would not have survived so long in society. But you must not discuss your interests with everyone you meet, especially in London.”
Jordana was convinced she had every right to tramp around Derbyshire and assist in childbirth, the mere thought of which made Marissa swoon. If anyone was in need of feminine encouragement and direction, it was Jordana.
Even more reason for him to remarry.
The thought of a new Lady Haddon filled her with an almost unbearable melancholy.
Haddon finally reached them, his gaze lingering over Marissa, though she hadn’t any idea what he was thinking. “My apologies for the delay. How wonderful to see you, Lady Cupps-Foster.”
“You were otherwise occupied,” she said in a crisp voice.
The pale of his eyes darkened like quicksilver, never leaving her face. “Unexpectedly detained.”
Marissa told herself to breathe, a feat difficult enough with how tightly her stays were laced. And she was annoyed with him. He’d not even bothered to correct Lady Christina’s assessment of Marissa as an elderly chaperone.
“Lady Stanton should have a discussion with her daughter on a more ladylike way of speaking. Lady Christina’s voice is a bit shrill drowning out even the birds singing in the trees.”
A tiny, knowing smile hovered at his lips. “Lady Christina sends you both her regards.”
“How kind.” Marissa savagely tamped down the jealousy snarling inside her. She told herself it didn’t matter what Lady Christina or her mother thought. The end result was the same. Marissa had no claim on Haddon. And shedetestedbeing envious over Lady Christina’s pert bosom and youthful glow. It wasn’t becoming.
Marissawasthe daughter of a duke.
