Page 3 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘Would you like to explore new and exotic worlds?’ he asked, truly curious.

‘Perhaps not travel there myself, but I would love to have my own little plot of land where I could plant gardens. Not just for herbs, but ones that could incorporate both English plants and those from exotic places, like some of the new introductions Sir Thomas Banks and other explorers have brought back to the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew. So many unique and— But you can’t be interested in that, so I shall stop myself before I bore you.’

Before he could assure her that he was interested in what interested her, she went on, ‘You mentioned missing riding? You need not, even in London. Hyde Park offers some excellent trails, though I would recommend riding early in the morning. By late afternoon, all the roads and pathways are taken over by the ton, strolling on foot or meandering on horseback at the pace of a carriage ride. Not an appealing prospect for one who enjoys a good gallop.’

‘Do you enjoy a good gallop?’

‘Absolutely. Englemere is generous enough to stable my favourite mare. Unless the weather is dreadful, I ride every morning.’

‘Would it be too forward of me to request you to meet me for a ride? You could introduce me to the best trails and pathways.’

She nodded. ‘I would be happy to. After all, no reasonable request should be denied to one of the heroes of Waterloo.’

‘That makes me doubly happy I survived,’ Charles said wryly. Even though it left him now faced with the prospect of leaving all that was rewarding and familiar to find a new place to belong. ‘I shall look forward to it. Tomorrow morning, shall we say?’

The lady had just nodded her agreement when the colonel recalled Charles’s attention and the conversation became more general, making Charles glad he’d been quick to set up another meeting with Miss Wellingford. Once the dinner ended, the ladies were to withdraw and the purpose of this gathering, a discussion of his prospective employment, would occupy the rest of the evening.

Standing with the other gentlemen as their hostess and her sister bid them goodnight, Charles caught Miss Wellingford’s gaze and winked. Though she shook her head reprovingly, his gesture coaxed from her a slight smile, which he echoed with a grin.

Watching her walk out, he felt a stir of anticipation.

With an influential marchioness as her sponsor, she could doubtless introduce him to everyone who was anyone in Society. Even better, as she’d proclaimed herself uninterested in finding a husband just yet, with her he could engage in the flirtation he so enjoyed without creating any marital expectations.

Though, as Miss Wellingford had declared that wedlock was the best of the few options available to a female of her class, he’d do well not to trust too much in her avowed disinterest in marriage. While he enjoyed riding, dancing and consulting her, he’d need to remain nimble enough not to stumble into any entanglements.

With the importance Society placed on ancestry and pedigree, how could he in good faith take a wife, someone he pledged to love, support and protect, when he didn’t really know who he was? A memory of the taunting he’d suffered in school, from boys eager to remind him he didn’t know who his real parents were, echoed in his head.

If he were to wed and later discover his origins truly were disreputable, he would cause his innocent wife, at the least, embarrassment and perhaps even see her snubbed or exiled from polite company.

Thrusting aside the disquiet that filled him whenever those thoughts recurred, he concentrated instead on the reassuring knowledge that he’d be able to pursue his acquaintance with the engaging Miss Wellingford. And as he envisioned those large hazel eyes watching him warily, the full, oh-so-kissable lips pursed in a frown at his compliments, the lovely honey brown curls and the quick, sharp wit that challenged him, the idea of becoming entangled with the intriguing Miss Emma Wellingford was unexpectedly beguiling.

Chapter Two

The next morning Emma made her way to the stables early, energised by the prospect of a brisk ride. Her anticipation, she was honest enough to admit, was sharpened by knowing she would be meeting Lieutenant Marsden.

On the one hand, he clearly enjoyed the sort of excessively gallant flirtation she tried to avoid. Having grown up with two very beautiful sisters, she always felt uncomfortable having her own modest beauty overly praised, as her sister Elizabeth’s ponderously complimentary husband was prone to do. As she’d assured Lieutenant Marsden, she preferred honest coin, not pretty speeches.

She could easily believe that she was exceptional in that preference. Lieutenant Charles Marsden, with his tall, broad-shouldered figure, strong arms (from wielding a dragoon’s heavy sabre, no doubt) and thighs well-muscled from years spent in the saddle, cut a highly attractive figure. Blessed with an equally handsome face (oh, my, that strong jaw, straight nose, dark blue eyes, the brown-blond hair that curled over his brow and that outrageously beguiling smile!) he doubtless found most females only too thrilled to be the object of whatever admiring remarks he chose to offer.

The game of flirtation just wasn’t one she enjoyed or excelled in. Which was one of the reasons she’d not been looking forward to a Season, and a part of the whole artificiality of the Marriage Mart she endured with silent distaste.

On the other hand, Lieutenant Marsden had shown himself unusually perceptive—something which could not be said for most of the handsome men she’d met in the ton. Most seemed too sure of their charm and so certain that any maiden they focused it on (especially one of only modest good looks) must be thrilled to be so favoured, it would never occur to them that she might actually dislike such gallantry.

Marsden not only noticed, he’d been straightforward enough to question her about it. Instead of being offended, as she’d suspected he might be when she’d challenged him on the ‘lovely smile’ comment, he’d not only immediately caught the meaning of her rebuke, he’d been amused.

Not too much on his dignity, and not too high in the instep, despite his exceptional good looks.

Though she supposed, other than being more handsome than the law ought to allow, he had no other reason to feel superior. She was the sister-in-law of a marquess, and he, apparently, the adopted son of a comfortably wealthy gentleman, but not heir to a title or vast wealth.

How she did envy him, though, knowing he would have the management of that country estate one day!

Her groom, accustomed now to her preference for early morning rides, had her mare Sunlight already tacked and ready. The air held an energising chill as they rode out of the mews, while the nearly cloudless skies promised a sunny day. With no fog or drizzle to mask the contours of the trails, it was a perfect morning to introduce a newcomer to the park.

Her anticipation heightened as she neared the park gates. Would the lieutenant attempt to flirt again? Or, respecting her preferences, would he be straightforwardly attentive? Despite her discouraging his ‘favourite pastime’, he must have enjoyed her company to have asked her to ride with him. If he only wished to discover where in London he could have a good gallop, he could have asked the colonel.

Her sister Sarah had told her last night that she would invite the lieutenant to dinner again and to her entertainments, so Emma was likely to encounter him often. But once he had a larger acquaintance in Society, he was unlikely to seek out her company, not when the Season boasted a number of Diamonds who would be happy to flirt with him—not to mention a handful of daring matrons who, she suspected, would be quite willing to be persuaded into a more intimate relationship.

No, she would enjoy his company while she had it and not feel slighted or disappointed when he moved on to more promising fare.