Page 9 of Marrying Bluebeard

“Five days does seem rather short.” I take a sip of wine, forcing myself to relax and focus on the gentleman next to me. The man my family would have me marry. I should at least try to get to know him. “Will you be returning to London afterward?”

“I’m afraid so. As much as I’d love to extend my escape in the country, business calls. I imagine your brother is in the same boat.”

“It does seem to be all-consuming,” I agree. “Frankly, I’m surprised he found time for this.”

“Such is the life of a businessman.” He grins. “Though in truth, I can’t imagine living any other way.”

“A titled gentleman who openly admits a love for business?” I smile over the rim of my glass. “That makes you a bit of a novelty around here, I expect. Most gentlemen would rather sell off their daughters than be seen dabbling in trade.”

“I pride myself in not being most gentlemen.” Lord Harrison winks, but his expression is sincere. “Despite my drive to succeed, it’s my family that comes first. And should I be so fortunate as to find myself wed, I would make my wife’s happiness a priority. I can promise you that.”

It’s not a proposal, but the implication couldn’t be clearer—he’s interested. Very interested, if the look on his face is anything to go by. I fight the urge to squirm, and my gaze darts to the left.

Monsieur de Montragoux is watching us through hooded eyes, his expression shuttered.

My mouth is dry. I sip my wine, but it doesn’t help. “That’s…” I’ve already forgotten what I was going to say. Why is he looking at me like that? What is he thinking? I touch my fingers to my forehead, turning my attention back to Lord Harrison with a grimace. “Sorry. I seem to be coming down with a headache. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d best retire for the evening.”

“Of course.” He hurries to stand and pull my chair back for me. “You must lie down and rest if you’re not feeling well.”

“Thank you.” I chance one last glance back at the table. Monsieur de Montragoux has turned back to Miss Dellum, and he doesn’t look up as I excuse myself, not even when Miss Dellum herself looks over with a smile.

Part of me wishes to scream for him to look at me, but the greater part hates how pathetic it makes me feel. Never have I let a man turn me around like this, and without his even trying. Good god, the poor man is simply talking to his assigned dinner partner. I lift my chin as I make my exit. From here on out, I’ll pay him no mind. I’m sure there are other gentlemen who’d be unfazed by my ability. He can’t be the only one.

Can he?

8

ADELAIDE

“Victorious again!” Lord Harrison beams as he lifts my hand into the air, striking a triumphant pose. “Who dares take us on next?”

Lord Davenport wipes his forehead with a silk handkerchief. “You’ve trounced us at lawn bowls enough for one morning. A cold glass of lemonade sounds far more appealing.”

“Very well, run away if you must,” Lord Harrison teases. “I suppose Miss Brindamour and I will have to find another pair of challengers willing to take on our prowess.”

“Actually, lemonade sounds lovely.” I fan myself as I look around the manicured lawns. “And besides, I do believe we’ve already played everyone here.” It certainly feels as if we have. Lord Harrison secured me as a partner the moment my sister and I stepped outside this morning, and we’ve been at it ever since. While his enthusiasm has a certain charm, his doggedness is borderline exhausting.

“Not so.” Miles gestures toward a copse of trees where Monsieur de Montragoux and Miss Dellum talk animatedly over a shared book. I try to read the title, but it’s obscured in the folds of Miss Dellum’s skirts. “We have yet to challenge those two. What do you say?”

I’d rather eat raw garlic.

“Tempting, but this sun is getting a bit strong. I think perhaps I’ll step inside for a while to cool down.” I lower my voice. “You should know, Lord Harrison, that ladies are meant to glow, not glisten.” I wave my fan with an exaggerated grimace.

“Please, call me Miles. We’re a champion lawn bowls team now, after all.”

I hesitate. If I use his given name, will he consider that encouragement for something more than friendship? His expression is so open and sincere, however, I find myself smiling. “All right, Miles. And you may feel free to call me Adelaide, at least while we’re in the countryside. I doubt my brother would approve of such informalities in London.”

“Adelaide for a few days it is.” Miles holds out his arm. “May I escort you up to the house?”

“Oh no, please. Stay.” I desperately need a moment to myself. “I believe Miss Farthington was looking for a shuttlecock partner.” I nod toward the young lady currently chatting with Marguerite.

Miles appears visibly torn. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as enthused about lawn games before, but he also seems determined to remain at my side. I suspect Julien has been whispering in his ear when I’m not around, building me up as the ideal prospect. Hopefully my acceptance of given names won’t make things worse. “If you’re sure…”

It’s all the opening I need. “Absolutely.” I inch toward the manor. “Have fun.” I practically jog back up to the porch, snagging a glass of lemonade from the table before slipping inside. I make my way to the orangery, where I can appreciate the beautiful day without having to converse with anyone. Its view of the trees where Monsieur de Montragoux and Miss Dellum are ensconced is entirely unrelated.

As it turns out, however, the orangery is occupied when I arrive. Streaks of colored light refracting from the cut glass window pass through the young girl perched atop a wrought-iron table. She looks longingly out the window as she watches a group playing croquet.

Smothering a sigh, I take a seat beside the table and fold my hands in my lap as I follow her gaze. “Did you like to play?” I watch Miss Talbot giggle as her ball goes wide of the wicket. She simpers as Lord Brinkley offers to help with her form, and it’s all I can do not to groan. Such an obvious ploy.