“Markham,” she said in her most prudish tone, “you know it’s improper for me to ride with Lord Bromton alone.”
“It would be improper forJuliato ride with Lord Bromton alone. You,” Markham tugged on the side of her mobcap, “clearly consider yourself to be on the shelf.”
She couldn’t stop her blush any more than she could keep Markham from hopping down from the carriage. “Samuel,” he said with full authority, “take my sister and my guest around the grove. I’ll meet you here within the hour.”
“Yes, your lordship.”
Markham started down the lane in a lighthearted step that could almost have been a skip. “Be good,” he called over his shoulder.
Katherine stared, dumfounded. Even for Markham that was low.
She hadn’t destroyed anything of Markham’s since they were children, but once, after he had insisted she must listen to him the way she listened to their father, she had purposely sunk her brother’s toy fleet. He’d been young enough to bitterly mourn the sinking of his ships, but old enough to absorb the lesson.
Or so she had thought.
He was, apparently, overdue for a reminder. Perhaps she could empty into the very same pond the cask of cognac he’d purchased following the Treaty of Amiens.
Lord Bromton cleared his throat. “It appears, my lady, you are to be my guide.”
She turned. His smile was as slippery as worn boots—though not, she suspected, as often used. “It does appear that way, doesn’t it?”
Because insisting Samuel Coachman get down from his perch so she could avoid contact with her brother’s guest would be peevish and beneath her dignity, she took the marquess’s outstretched hand and stepped up into the carriage.
For the second time, the pleasurable shock of his touch left her reeling. She settled on the far edge of the bench and called to the coachman to proceed.
The carriage climbed the hill with unbearable, creaking sloth.
Closing her eyes, she imagined Markham discovering his long-awaited cognac cask, empty and listlessly bobbing in the pond.
However…
How much cognac could she empty before she killed the koi? The pond was rather small. The fish shouldn’t suffer for her brother’s idiocy. She’d have to think of something else. Something better. Something so awful that—
“I do not mean to disturb your thoughts, Lady Katherine, but you seem troubled.” Lord Bromton’s words rippled over her skin in warm-water waves.
“Why would you say that?” she asked innocently.
He glanced down at her hands. She released her stranglehold on her skirts and looked away.
“You are observant, my lord.”
“I am observant when something…or someone…captivates my attention.”
She wagered any number of London ladies would give their last sixpence to captivate his lordship’s attention. She would likely be emptying her pockets, if she had not learned—and relearned—the true cost of such folly.
Kindness.Kindness. Kill, but with kindness. “I am anxious for your well-being, of course.”
“Ah, yes.” He tilted his head and one of those unruly locks fell like a caress against his cheek. “Because I am unused to discomfort.” He studied her while the carriage swayed. “Your concern is a relief. I had wondered if my presence caused you to object.”
Was this how a hooked fish felt? She narrowed her eyes.Devil, we’ve met in a different form.
“How could your esteemed presence be objectionable? Any true friend of Markham’s is always welcome.”
His brows rose. “You aretoogracious.”
“Though the road may appear dangerous,” she cleared her throat and forced a smile, “we are not in harm’s way. Samuel knows the road by heart.”
“I wasn’t the least concerned.” He angled his body toward hers. “All good things are worth trouble.”
