Page 13 of Tempting the Marquess

“Thank you, Lady Havenhurst,” said Lady Samantha, her eyes as round as saucers as she took in the décor.

“Divine, isn’t it?” the baroness preened, following her gaze. “Chose the colors myself.”

“I would never have thought to bring the two together. So very, ah, vibrant.”

“You have excellent taste. Well, unfortunately I must excuse myself, guests to attend to and all that. Do enjoy the afternoon, and help yourselves to tea. The berry tarts are quite delicious.”

Lady Havenhurst was barely out of earshot when Caroline folded her arms and looked at him intently.

“Did you say something to her, Lord Standish? She usually has no more than two hissed words forme.”

“Of course not,” William replied. “Perhaps the baroness is mellowing as sheages.”

“Pfft. Now I feel even more unsettled, like the end of the world is nigh. Of course, that could just be this room. I need cake, immediately. Excuseme.”

He turned and bowed to Lady Samantha. “Forgive me, it seems I am frightening everyone away today.”

“Oh, no,” she said, her lips twitching, “When Caroline needs cake, she needs it without delay. Otherwise lives could be lost. And we’ve had an...interesting morning.”

“Interesting? Howso?”

A shadow crossed her expressive face, and he frowned.

“Lady Samantha? Was someone unkind?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly, “It’s nothing really.”

His neck prickled. “Tellme.”

“Well, um, before we came here, I went to ask Papa’s permission and he was being absolutely awful to a delivery man from the docks. So awful he made the mancry!”

“Why? Had the man stolen something and been caught?”

“According to Penn—that’s our butler—some things were missing, but the man swore it wasn’t him. He was so afraid! And I was a little afraid, too. I’ve never seen Papa look or speak so cruelly before, and he hit the man aswell.”

And there it was, the perfect opening to start his campaign.

For God’s sake, man, say the words. The sooner it begins, the sooner it isdone.

“That doesn’t sound good at all,” he said instead, attempting to harden himself against the confusion and unhappiness in her wide browneyes.

“It wasn’t. Why would Papa be so awful?”

Say the words, you damnedfool!

“I really don’t know. But…” he continued, even as distaste sanded his throat, “should something like that ever happen again, a strange visitor, or a situation where you feel uneasy, I hope you’ll tell me. Right away. I realize it has been a long while since we last spent time together, but I do feel a certainduty...”

“Duty,” she repeated, her eyes dulling, and he wanted to kick himself for the poor word choice. The master of courtly love, he wasnot.

“I mean friendship. I greatly enjoyed our dance and conversation last night, and would certainly like to spend some more time with you. If you agree, of course.”

“But the others sent me flowers,” she said slowly, her cheeks reddening as she glanced away. “You didn’t.”

Oh hell. Kicking himself wasn’t nearly enough punishment for such a ridiculous oversight. How could he have forgotten something so basic? A failure as a gentleman on top of being England’s worst interrogator.

First lie, comingup.

“Of course I did! You mean you didn’t receive them? Yellow rose spray with a blue bow? Well, I know one florist I shan’t be returningto.”