Meredith’s cheeks went warm. Though she knew he could hardly read her thoughts, she worried he had somehow known what she felt, for his gaze was probing and far too perceptive.
They finished the waltz as they had begun, in silence. The music ended with a resounding crescendo and the dance was done. The marquess turned his head and scanned the crowded ballroom with great interest. Meredith felt herself blushing. While not being precisely rude, it was obvious the marquess had dismissed her from his thoughts.
Meredith held her smile steady, trying to ignore the unwelcome bite of disappointment. It was usually she who sought refuge from an ardent male, not the other way ’round. Was she truly becoming the undesirable spinster her brothers thought her to be?
Meredith knew within moments the marquess would bow stiffly and escort her off the dance floor. It seemed unlikely he would seek out her company again, and Meredith was unsure if she possessed the courage to approach him a second time.
If she had any hope of winning that ridiculous wager and proving to herself she was not set firmly upon the shelf, she would have to act now.
“The room is warm, my lord,” Meredith said anxiously. “Shall we take a stroll in the garden for a refreshing breath of air?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and Meredith once again marveled. There was something so striking about him. Even his smallest gesture or expression seemed important.
“Are you not engaged for the next dance, Lady Meredith?”
“I have danced with only you this evening,” she said very quietly.
The marquess tensed, and his expression became guarded. She could almost sense the wariness that filtered through him. He remained silent for so long she was certain he was going to refuse her suggestion of a walk outside. Then he silently held out his arm. She grasped it eagerly, and they paraded across the room in full view of any who cared to be interested.
And many were. She was very aware of the speculative glances thrown their way, but Meredith took her cue from the marquess and ignored them all.
It was a moonless night. Only a few couples milled about in the corners of the large patio. Servants had lit torches on the perimeter of the slate terrace, and the light they cast was sufficient to see the shapes of the neatly tended bushes and rows of blooming flowers that comprised the garden.
The night air felt damp, but there was no mist. Instead layers of shadows spread over the gardens, curling around the gravel paths, casting strange shapes into the far corners.
A light breeze blew, ruffling the stray curls that had escaped from Meredith’s tightly coiled hair. She resisted the temptation to set them back in place, afraid the gesture would bring more attention to herself.
“Have you filled your lungs sufficiently with fresh air, Lady Meredith?”
The marquess sounded bored. She stiffened her spine and lifted her head, reminding herself the bet he had made with her brothers revealed much about his attitude and opinion of women. If nothing else, it would give her a great sense of satisfaction to make a sufficient adjustment to that pompous attitude.
Abruptly she cleared her throat and waved vaguely at the French doors leading to the ballroom. “Please don’t feel obligated to stay out here on my behalf, my lord. I understand perfectly if you wish to return to the party.”
She suspected that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was unpredictable enough to call her bluff.
When he did not reply, Meredith decided to tempt the fates once more. She moved forward slowly, then called over her shoulder to the marquess, “The enchanting fragrance of the garden beckons, my lord. I fear I must indulge myself.”
She sailed blithely down the stone steps, listening intently for the crunch of his footsteps behind her. As the silence lengthened, Meredith slowed her gait, but she resisted the urge to turn around.
She might be stubborn and occasionally willful, but she had her pride. If the marquess followed her into the darkness of the secluded garden, she would make every attempt to kiss the man senseless and win this outlandish wager. And if he did not, well, perhaps the loss of this bet would make an impression upon her brothers as to the fickle nature of gambling.
And perhaps pigs would learn to fly!
Meredith sensed a restless shifting behind her, then breathed a sigh when she heard the telltale crunch of a shoe upon the gravel. He was following her!
Eyes alert, Meredith strolled along the path. The marquess kept silent pace behind her. They did not speak, and she was glad, for she had long since run out of conversation.
What Meredith sought was privacy, for to be caught in the act of kissing the marquess would be disastrous for them both. A vague recollection of a pretty gazebo tucked away in a secluded area of the lawn had Meredith eagerly scanning the shadows with each step she took.
She nearly cried out with delight when she at last spied it. Meredith lifted her skirt and trod up the wooden steps of the structure, ducking her head to avoid becoming tangled in the hanging vines. She took a seat on the wicker sofa inside and waited.
He did not immediately follow her but instead stood outside the open-air gazebo. Through the silence of the still night, Meredith could clearly hear the sound of her own breathing.
“Tired, Lady Meredith?”
“A bit.”
She heard the note of sarcasm in his voice, and oddly understood it. Viewing the situation from his side, Meredith admitted her behavior the entire evening had been somewhat vexing. Mysterious and flirtatious, she had been poking him, jabbing at him, prodding him like a sleeping tiger.
