Page 17 of Marrying Bluebeard

Marguerite lets out a rather unladylike snort, which sends me into my own fit of giggles.

“You two seem to be having fun.” Miles grins crookedly from the other side of our canvases, and I swallow the rest of my laughter as I compose myself. “Do I dare ask what you’re talking about?”

“Oh, you know.” Marguerite waves her hand. “Just admiring the flowers.”

“It is a magnificent garden,” Miles agrees.

“I especially like the lilies,” I manage to squeak out.

Another snort from Marguerite, who slaps a hand over her mouth.

Miles playfully narrows his eyes. “You two are up to something, but being the gentleman I am, I won’t pry.”

“A true gallant,” I tease.

He throws his shoulders back, puffing up his chest. “I am rather chivalrous, aren’t I?”

“And not at all vain.”

“Not at all,” he laughs. “I’m as humble as they come. Which is why I’m humbly requesting the honor of your first two dances at tomorrow night’s ball.” He sobers. “It’ll be our last evening here, and I have something important I’d like to discuss with you.”

There’s a suggestive gleam in his eyes that leeches the laughter from my belly. When I glance at the gazebo, I find Julien watching us, and I have a terrible suspicion he knows exactly what Miles wishes to discuss. Or rather, propose. “It’s I who should be honored,” I hedge, licking my lips. My mouth feels as if it’s been stuffed with sawdust. “But if you recall, Monsieur de Montragoux and I were the winners for hide-and-seek. We’re expected to open the ball together.”

Miles’s face falls, but he quickly recovers. “The waltz, then.” He grins. “It’ll be easier to talk during that anyway.”

I bite my lip. Just hearing the word waltz makes me wonder what it would feel like to be twirled around the ballroom in Bertrand’s arms. The warmth the thought brings is immediately doused as I picture him waltzing with Miss Dellum.

He wouldn’t.

And yet, he did take the easel next to hers. I look over to where they’re working, and inwardly preen when I find him watching me. She might be the one beside him, but I’m the one who’s claimed his attention.

“Adelaide? The, um, the waltz?” Miles’s uncertain voice draws me back, and I realize I’ve yet to answer his question. Bertrand’s lips twitch as he stares back at me from the other side of the garden, and it takes every ounce of my resolve to tear my gaze away and focus on Miles.

“Sorry, dizzy spell.” I fan my cheeks. “Too much sun I’m afraid.”

The suspicious look on Miles’s face washes away. “Let’s get you inside at once.” He gently takes my elbow as he leads me toward the house. “Marguerite, could you fetch your sister a glass of that lemonade over there?”

“Of course,” Marguerite replies, although the look she shoots me says she’s on to my ruse.

“Lemonade would be lovely,” I say faintly, allowing Miles to lead me inside. He makes no more mention of dancing, for which I’m grateful. While I know the discussion is inevitable, I’m not ready to have it yet. My mind is far too muddled with thoughts of Bertrand.

As I sip my lemonade, I stage a spill, splashing droplets of tart beverage across my skirt. “Oh, how clumsy of me.” I feign a look of embarrassment. “I’d best go up and change before anyone else sees what a klutz I am.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Miles takes my glass with a wink. “If any of the other gentlemen spy those rosy cheeks of yours, I fear I’ll have more competition than I can handle. They’re much too fetching.”

“And you’re far too kind.” I give him a wry smile. “If you’ll excuse me.” I dip a shallow curtsy before whisking away. The scant bit of lemonade on my dress is already drying, but I make my way up to my room to change regardless. I take my time, unbuttoning my dress and letting it slip off as I sit back on the bed with a relieved sigh.

It’s much too hot for long dresses and heavy thoughts.

A meow from the floor by my feet agrees with me, and I smile as a bundle of ghostly fur leaps onto my lap. I scoop Whisper into my arms and bury my face in her cool fur, breathing her in. She smells of night air and fallen leaves, and I close my eyes as I let the comforting scent wash over me.

“What am I going to do, Whisper? I’m all kinds of mixed up inside.”

She rubs her head against my cheek, purring softly. While the action doesn’t provide an answer to my dilemma, it calms me in a way simple words cannot. I press a kiss against her fur and set her lovingly on the bed before standing up with renewed determination.

“What I need to do is clear my mind.” I grab a clean dress from the wardrobe and quickly step into it. “And I know just the way to do it—chess.” I glance down at Whisper, who’s curled up in the center of my pillow. “Coming with?”

The feline blinks baleful eyes.