Ambrose had offered... well, he’d offered the impossible.
He would permit her to take a loverifthat lover met his approval andafterhe’d taught her some... tricks. Whatever that meant.
Surely he hadn’t been serious.
Ofcoursehe hadn’t been serious.
She chewed her lip. Had he?
No, she assured herself. He hadn’t. He’d been mocking her. Mocking her and her decision to do something for herself. Because if there was one thing a powerful man could not abide, it was a woman daring enough to step out of his shadow and into her own light.
“Have you any idea that the duke is here?” Kitty demanded.
“Yes,” Mara said wryly. “I am aware.” Scooting up against the headboard when it became apparent that her sister was in no hurry to leave, she fluffed a pillow to place behind her spine and wrapped her arms around another, hugging it tight to her chest. “He arrived yesterday.”
“Yesterday?And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was under any obligation to inform you of my husband’s movements.” Mara’s comment, uncharacteristically sharp, was followed by a beat of silence... and then Kitty slid off the mattress and sailed to the door with her nose in the air in a dramatic display of indignation.
“I don’t know what side of the bed you woke up on this morning,” she sniffed, “but I suggest you try rolling over to the other. If you have need of me, I’ll be in the drawing room.”
“Kitty, wait. I’m sorry—” But her sister was already gone. On a sigh, Mara slid bonelessly onto her back and stared up at the canopied ceiling. For a person who habitually steered clear of turmoil, she’d certainly been placing herself right in the middle of it as of late. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. All she’d wanted was a quiet return to London and an attentive companion to spend time with. Now Kitty was cross and thetonwas buzzing with gossip all because she’d left out a singular important factor in her calculations: Ambrose.
His appearance at Southwick Castle posed any number of problems and his awareness of her plan proved most unfortunate. He’d left her alonethislong, she thought with a frustrated huff of breath. Why couldn’t he have gone on pretending that she didn’t exist for one more Season? Surely he owed her that much for all the promises he’d given her... and all of the lies he’d kept.
At the very beginning of their courtship—if one could call being ordered to go places and having to obey acourtship—she had maintained hope that the glimpse of the man she’d seen after the theater, when he’d kissed her with such care—when he’d kissed her so well—was the man she might be marrying. That the arrogance, the coldness, the aloofness was the act, a shield he put in place to guard himself from those who didn’t truly know him. And she wanted to know him. She was determined to, for she refused to marry a stranger. Even if he was a duke. Even if Society thought her mad... though not quite as mad they thought Ambrose for considering a shy, awkward wallflower as a potential bride when he had so many better options available.
On the day after their first public outing, he had taken her into full view of High Society once again, this time around Hyde Park in a gleaming black barouche carriage with the hood tied open so that anyone who cared to could cast a curious gaze upon them.
She recalled the nervous twitch of her fingers as she’d sat beside him while Kitty, dramatically beautiful in a sapphire blue gown that had made her yellow morning dress appear dowdy in comparison, perched on the bench seat across from them.
“Everyone is staring at us,” she’d remarked happily, and Mara—whose upbringing had taught her to avoid drawing attention to herself at all costs—instinctively hunched her shoulders and sank low in an attempt to become as unnoticeable as possible.
“I’d advise you to refrain from staring back,” Ambrose had said, affixing his arm to the door of the carriage and idly tapping his hand along the shiny lacquer, a new invention that coated previously porous surfaces in a hard, granite-like surface impervious to the effects of weather. “Else the poor people strain their necks in an attempt to be the harbingers of gossip. I personally wouldn’t care to be responsible for their pain and suffering. Wouldyou, Lady Katherine?”
On the verge of waving at those strolling past like a queen addressing her peasants, Kitty had sheepishly lowered her arm. “No, I would not, Your Grace.”
“I assumed as much.” Cynical amusement shone in the depths of his gaze as he turned his attention to Mara. “How are you finding the day, Lady Marabelle?”
“It’s pleasant,” she’d responded automatically.
“But?” he’d asked, somehow sensing that she’d bitten her tongue to cleave off the rest of her answer.
Her fingers, no longer twitching, gathered a fistful of yellow cotton and squeezed.But you’re acting like you didn’t kiss me senseless in the mist yesterday. But our father was already in his cups when we woke this morning, and my left sleeve is hiding a bruise in the shape of his thumb. But I have yet to figure out what I am doing here or what your interest is in me.
“But I hope we get rain later,” she said instead, not ready to share her innermost thoughts and secrets with a man she hardly knew.
“And why is that? If I recall, it rained last night. Do you recall, Lady Marabelle?” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “If it rained?”
She blushed. “It... itdid. But the flowers need more.”
He stretched his arm across the curved back of their shared seat. “Are you an expert on flowers, then?”
“An expert?” She shook her head. “No, but I do like to garden.”
“What else do you like?” His voice was low, and even though they were sharing a carriage with Kitty, and a park with a hundred other members of theton, it was somehow intimate, as if they were the only couple around for a hundred miles. Which was absurd, because they weren’t even a couple. But when he looked at her like that—all searing intensity and unwavering focus—she wanted to be. And she also wanted... heaven help her, she also wanted him to kiss her again.
In the rain and after the storm.
