“He asked what my sisters and I used to play when we were children. When I told him we used to run races, he suggested we do that.”
So clever of Wrexley, to discover what she wanted most, and then cajole her into taking it, regardless of the consequences.
“We used to run races at home, in Surrey,” she added, a dreamy smile drifting across her lips. “My father, my sisters—even my mother, on occasion. We never thought about whether or not it was proper, only if it was good fun. It always was.”
A strange, tight sensation gripped Finn’s chest as he watched the smile flirting at the corners of her lips. There was so much joy in that smile it made his heart quicken until he felt dizzy with it.
What must it have been like, to run races with your family? To look back on your memories with joy? To recall moments of perfect happiness when you closed your eyes, instead of a lonely childhood, where one day unfolded after another, all of them the same, except each one was longer and emptier than the last?
What would it feel like, if she smiled like that for me?
She never had, because he would have noticed it. He would have noticedher.
Finn swallowed as his gaze moved over her face. Her cheeks were still pink from the exercise, and the fair hair escaping her pins fell in a long, heavy cascade of golden waves around her face and shoulders. Was it as soft as it looked? If he reached out and captured a lock of it, would it feel like strands of heavy silk between his fingers? If he brushed his fingertip against the corner of her mouth, would that dreamy smile disappear, or would it deepen? Could he catch it in his hand, and make it his?
“Keep still, Miss Somerset.”
Her lips parted on a tiny gasp when he reached for her, the sound so quiet he felt it more than heard it, but she didn’t jerk away from him, and his fingers closed around a hairpin still tangled in one of her curls. He slid it loose gently, and then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he lingered, coaxing the silky strands of her hair to fall between his fingers.
He’d touched her before—her elbow, her arm, her gloved hand—but he’d never touched her like this. He waited for her to push him away, for her harsh laugh, and quick dismissal.
It never came. She only swallowed, then said, “You really never ran a race before? Not even when you were a child?”
His gaze darted to her slender throat, then back to her face, and a forlorn laugh tore from his throat before he could stop it. “I was never a child.”
She gazed back at him without speaking, but her eyes went so soft for a single moment he wanted to say more—to tell her everything about himself—but then he noticed the sympathy in those blue depths, and the moment was gone.
I’m the Marquess of Huntington now. I don’t need anyone’s pity.
He released the lock of her hair and let it fall back to her shoulder. “Lord Wrexley, Miss Somerset. You need to be on your guard against him.”
As soon as he spoke, her face closed. Her eyes snapped back into focus, her expression went from dreamy to wary, and everything inside Finn went colder, as if a dark cloud had obliterated the sun.
She shook her head. “He’s my dear friend’s cousin, Lord Huntington, and he’s never been anything but kind and respectful toward me.”
“Respectful? It was Lord Wrexley who let Lady Beaumont into Lady Fairchild’s garden the day of the scavenger hunt. I think he hoped you’d discover her there, and it would cause a rift between us. Not quite the actions of an honorable gentleman, are they?”
“Forgive me, Lord Huntington, if I choose to treat anything you say about Lord Wrexley with skepticism. When you found me in the garden that day, after you left Lady Beaumont, Lord Wrexley was—”
Finn tensed. That tear in her gown…
“Did he touch you?” He gripped her shoulders. “Tell me the truth at once.”
Her eyes widened, and in some distant part of his brain, under the sudden roar in his ears, he knew he must be alarming her. He managed to get a deep breath into his lungs, then another, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. “How long were you alone with him?”
“I told you already, it wasn’t above five minutes. You keep accusing him of wrongdoing, and he’s perfectly innocent of it.”
A hard laugh tore from Finn’s chest. “Wrexley is many things, but he isn’t innocent. If I hadn’t happened to come upon you in the garden that day, there’s no telling what he might have done.”
“Indeed? Maybehewould have kissed me.”
The thought of a kiss between her and Wrexley made Finn rigid with fury. “He would have done whatever he could get away with.”
“And he could get away with a good deal—at least, that was your opinion last week, when you implied I’d engaged in improprieties with him.”
Finn didn’t realize he’d moved closer to her until his face was mere inches from hers. He stared down at her, his chest heaving with each harsh, furious breath. “I misspoke. I never meant to suggest any such thing, but I mean what I say about Lord Wrexley. He isn’t a man you can trust, and it’s clear he’s pursuing you. Stay away from him.”
Her eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. “It sounds as if you’re giving me an order, my lord.”
