He’d overtaxed himself, dammit. And this had been a futile exercise. He’d just felt a need to take some action. He could only hope that by now Mary’s fragrance had deserted his residence. Otherwise he would have little luck not thinking about her for the remainder of the day.
When Mary first entered her father’s library where she’d been summoned, she was so incredibly grateful that Fitzwilliam sported neither bruise nor cut nor swelling about his face that she nearly rushed forward to embrace him, to hold him tightly. She was even willing to squeal near his ear. She hated to admit that she had not quite believed he hadn’t harmed Sebastian.
It was ludicrous in retrospect now. She knew that. She’d simply forgotten when confronted with the possibility that he could have done harm. He was not a vengeful man. Jealous certainly. He’d confessed that, but every lady desired a man with a bit of green in him. It was a sign of how much she meant to him. That he cared.
Although right now she feared he cared about all the wrong things. He stood solemnly before her, his hands clasped behind his back. Staring up at him, she felt rather like a naughty girl who had been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.
Looking none too happy, her father sat in a far corner downing whiskey as though he feared the pleasure would soon be denied him.
“Mary,” Fitzwilliam began.
“My lord.” She smiled at him. He tightened his jaw. That didn’t bode well. Only one day had passed since the debacle at the seamstress’s. Surely he’d not yet heard. She’d been in her room penning a letter to him—an explanation. Coward. She should have gone straightway to his residence yesterday to explain it all to his face but a small part of her, a tiny little part of her had hoped that her aunt would indeed awaken twenty years younger this morning, and that Ladies Hermione and Victoria would keep to themselves what she had blurted out.
“I tolerated your speaking with Keswick during Lady Alicia’s recital because I knew he was a friend and you’d not seen him in a good many years. When I heard that you met with him in Hyde Park—alone—I overlooked the transgression.”
“It was hardly a transgression. I merely wished to convey to him the importance of attending a ball. We were in full view the entire time.”
“I’m aware of that. As those who reported seeing you made it clear that you were riding and that nothing untoward occurred. Still, you were there with him. Then at the ball, you spoke with him alone, near the fronds, without chaperone.”
“We had a hundred chaperones in that ballroom.”
He arched a pale brow. “And in the garden? How many were there?”
Feeling as though he had tricked her, trapped her, and willingly sought to humiliate her, she wilted against the seat.
“Yes, it has reached me that you and he had a tryst in the garden.”
“Good God, Mary!” her father exclaimed.
“It was hardly a tryst.”
“You deny kissing him?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Mary?” her father barked.
She studied the pointed toes of her shoes. She wondered how she might go about kicking herself.
“So there is truth to these rumors,” Fitzwilliam said.
“After the mishap on the dance floor—” She gave him a pointed look. “—I wanted to ensure that he understood that it could happen to anyone, as you reassured me it was not done on purpose.”
Fitzwilliam knelt before her and took her hands. She couldn’t recall him ever being so near, not even when he’d proposed. They’d been sipping tea and he hadn’t even bothered to set his teacup aside. He’d simply taken a sip and then said, “I say, dear girl, I was wondering if you might consider marrying me.”
It wasn’t romantic or passionate, but still it had touched her heart. He was so endearingly reserved. Unfortunately with recent events, she had hurt him. She could see that as she gazed into his brown eyes.
“I suppose if you are guilty of anything, Mary, it is a charitable heart. But Keswick is not yours to worry over.”
“But he is my friend, Fitzwilliam.”
“Hewasyour friend, when you were children. If he was your friend now, do you think he would do all these things that tarnish your reputation and mine?”
“It just happened. The kiss. I’m not even sure what prompted it. One moment we were talking and the next we were kissing. I’m sorry. I never meant to give you cause to doubt me.”
“Hence the reason I shall overlook it. This once. We shall attend the next ball together so that all of London shall see that you are mine. You are mine, are you not?”
Feeling the tears sting her eyes, she nodded. “Yes, without question.” Only she’d been asking so many blasted questions lately.
“Splendid. But you must promise me that you will not speak with him again.”
