She adored his determination. His looks and his intensity combined to summon the ache in her heart she’d always suffered whenever she recalled how sweetly he’d courted her. “I wish you could.”
With as much resolve as he showed upon his face, she left him in measured pace. Or hoped she did. If she ran, she would never admit it. He was too much of a gentleman to ever declare it such. He was too kind, too noble to state that a lady might leave him so readily, so eagerly.
And with so much remorse.
Chapter 3
She wished he could prove he loved her?
He took her at her word. And he knew how to do it, too.
He had one virtue. He planned. Everything. And it was oh so easy to execute this plan.
Grinning, he followed her down the hall toward the rest of the party and dinner.
Not even the seating arrangements would deter him. And they were not favorable tonight. The Countess had decided to seat her guests as the Prince of Wales did at his Pavilion. All down the long table, a woman sat next to a man. The responsibility to talk to each person on one’s elbows was uppermost. It created a friendly atmosphere, even if it did nothing for his jealousy. Penn in her brilliant golden gown sparkled in the candlelight, joking and laughing with her dinner partners. Curse them.
After dinner, he hoped to catch her in conversation. She liked to play cards and gaming tables had been set up in one of the smaller salons, but she did not take the lure and went to bed. He went up himself. Tired from his journey and arguing with her, he dismissed his valet in short order and sent him to his own assigned bed in the rafters with the other servants.
The next morning the guests assembled outside to collect greenery to decorate Marsden Hall. Out on the front lawn earlier than other guests, he meant to catch her as she came out. He hoped for some opening, some lack, some clue as to how he might show her the proof she required of him. A few minutes later when she descended the steps, she scanned the crowd and found him at once.
Looking for me, were you?He tipped his hat at her.
She threw him a small smile, a polite greeting for the world to note.
He nodded in like manner and pursed his lips, not wishing to display the grin he felt. Indeed, she had dressed beautifully this morning for the weather in a forest green wool that contrasted with her honeyed hair. But she’d forgotten the one accessory Tain knew she most definitely would wish she’d brought.
He hailed Simms, the Countess’s butler. “Please send a footman to fetch Lady Goddard’s maid and have him take her one of her fur muffs. Have him tell her it comes with my compliments.”
The man hurried off, pulled aside a footman and within a few minutes, the servant scurried out to present Penn with the piece.
Surprise on her brow, she searched the growing crowd and her brown eyes met his in gratitude. She had gloves, but she’d always complained that in winter, she could never get her fingers warm. Muffs were her saving grace.
She excused herself from her two female companions and strode toward him.
“Good morning, my lady. Warm now?”
“Thanks to you.” She turned aside to the footman. “John, might you know how many can fit in that carriage there?” She indicated an old black conveyance, a landau that had seen better days.
“Four, Madam,” the servant said as he continued his duties.
She smiled at him, beckoned her two friends and threw Theo a level look. “You may join us.”
He did, careful to situate the other two ladies in such a way that he and another lady rode backward and the other lady and Penn rode forward.
After they’d collected enough green boughs and holly to prick every finger, they returned to the Hall. As the landau idled near the front steps, she leaned to him and said, “You remembered that I hate to ride backward.”
“A gentleman would never permit such an affront to a lady’s delicacy.”
She flashed him a wide smile. “Not even when there were two other ladies in the carriage.”
“Not even,” he said, pleased with himself and his progress.
That night at supper, he had the immense privilege to sit beside her.
“I am in favor of that bright fuchsia, my lady. An extraordinary color that suits your complexion.”
“Thank you, sir.” She blushed, a charming expression that lit her brown eyes with mirth.
