“It is the nose,” Gwendolyn answered. “You, the marquess, and Lord Ellisfield have the same nose. Also, a bit of the same jawline.”
Mr. Steele shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t see it all that much. But now you understand why I wish to see the cottage.”
And he’d asked Gwendolyn to come with him.
She found herself smiling.
He smiled back... and all the promises she’d made to herself in the middle of the night seemed to fade away.
They came to a fork on the bridle path. He turned to the left. “It can’t be much farther to the river. I can feel it in the air. Wagner said the marchioness used to go to the cottage every chance she could.”
Wagner must be his man. “Is there a reason why?”
“They say she and Lord and Lady Middlebury did not rub along well.”
“Unsurprising,” Gwendolyn said. “She was foreign. She would have had difficulty with any of the Top One Hundred families of England.”
“True. Wagner was told the marquess considered her stubborn. He found her independence annoying.”
“Most men would,” she replied dryly.
Mr. Steele burst out laughing. The sound echoed around them, and she realized she’d never heard him laugh before. And he was laughing because of her quip.
She couldn’t recall one time when any of the men courting her ever caught her little witticisms. Usually they weren’t paying attention to anything other than her bosom or the next sentence they wished to utter instead of listening to anything she said.
But whether he admitted it or not, Mr. Steele did pay attention.
And she smiled at him. She couldn’t stop herself—because in this moment, the love she felt for him came roaring back with breathtaking force. It was not sane. It was not sensible. But it was there...
He spoke. “I did not invite Violet to my room. I don’t dally with married women. It is not something I do.”
“That isnotthe issue.” Although it was good to hear that he had standards.
“Thenwhatis it? I’m attempting to apologize.”
He spoke as if she was being difficult. “Apologize—even though you have no idea why I am—” She hesitated. She was about to say “disappointed” but realized she actually had no right to expect anything from him. He wanted nothing from her. So, what sense was there in an apology...?
“Speak your mind, Miss Lanscarr. You usually do. I don’t believe I have flinched yet.” Early morning sun filtered down through the leafy canopy of the trees. It was an idyllic place for confidences, or a fight.
She turned in her saddle to face him. “You have ruined my reputation. By pulling me into the room—”
“It was an impulse—” he started.
“—you gave Lady Rabron grist for the rumor mill.”
“But you came to my room,” he pointed out with unreasonable male logic.
“My purpose was to slide a note under your door warning you of Lady Rabron’s interest, not to be publicly humiliated. If I’d wanted that, I would have pulled my skirts over my head at dinner.”
He blinked as if either her words or her vehemence surprised him.
She released her breath in aggravation. Men were obtuse. “Your sex seems to value chastity, even though few of them are chaste at all. As an unmarried woman, I must be careful. One terrible rumor or spiteful word can not only ruin me but also reflect upon my family. I was attempting to warn you, and in doing so, I have compromised myself.” She could have added,with your help. She didn’t. If he didn’t understand the role he played, then there was no hope for him.
He sat silent, his brow gathered. Then, “She won’t say anything.”
Gwendolyn knew he referred to Lady Rabron.
“I’m not so certain.” She kicked her horse forward.
