Page 28 of Maid for the Marquess

I turned to find the marquess looming over me, an expression of concern on his countenance that matched the fretting tone of his voice. He truly wanted to please me, and the knowledge never failed to astound me. No one had gone to such an effort on my behalf since my mother had been alive.

I had to blink at the stinging rush of tears, tamping down grief I had never truly allowed myself to feel as the young girl who had lost her only champion at such a tender age.

I forced a bright smile for his lordship’s benefit, not wanting to explain the sudden rush of sadness. “She is gentle and calm, and yet I see a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. I think she and I shall get along nicely.”

“I was hoping the two of you would make friends. Empress is just as you have described her. Capable, gentle, and calm. But she also has a bit of fire within her. She is soft and sweet when she wishes to be, but she has a will of steel. You are a well-matched pair, I think.”

His words warmed me, as did the honest appreciation reflected in his dark gaze. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t worthy of his esteem. Despite his reassurance in the garden, I was terrified that Lord Wheaton would come to his senses and change his mind. That he would realize he didn't wish to marry a woman who was too far beneath him and send me to London as he had originally intended instead.

I averted my gaze back to Empress, who was looking at me trustingly as I continued to stroke her muzzle, wishing I might feel the velvet-smoothness of her coat beneath my fingertips.

“I’m afraid I haven’t any fire in me, my lord, nor a will of steel. If I had, I would have burned Cliffwood to ash instead of meekly obeying my father.”

Lord Wheaton stepped nearer, bringing his scent, familiar and tempting above the smells of the stables. “I saw it myself in the carriage,” he said quietly, “when you were finally free to speak your mind. You are strong and determined, or else you could not have possibly endured. And you can neither blame nor judge yourself for the machinations of a cruel man. You were but a child when your father forced you into a life of servitude.”

I shook my head. “You are far too intent upon seeing the best in me, and why, I cannot begin to fathom.”

The mare nudged my palm gently.

“Because you deserve it, Madeline. Empress is an excellent judge of character, as am I.” He moved forward until he stood at my side, his towering presence a source of comfort rather than intimidation.

I never felt the need to cower or fear for myself in his presence. His broad shoulders, impressive height, and strong form had only been used to protect me. To show me gentleness.

I slanted another glance in his direction. His long hair was pulled back into a queue at his nape, his head covered by a dashing hat. His riding breeches and boots showed off his muscular calves and horseman’s thighs. Goodness, what was I doing, ogling his lordship? New heat crept up my throat, scalding my cheeks. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you,” I said simply, seeking to distract myself.

His eyebrows rose. “For being honest?”

“For inviting me to ride with you. I hadn’t realized how much I missed riding until the opportunity was granted me once more.”

“You needn’t thank me, my dear. As my marchioness, you can have your choice of horses and ride as often or as little as you like.”

I gave Empress another fond stroke. “You are far too generous, my lord.”

“Let me be,” he said, reaching for me and briefly caressing my cheek, the soft leather of his glove brushing against my heated skin for a fleeting instant.

“Why?” I whispered, afraid to ask the question, yet needing to know the answer.

“Because it makes me happy to do so.” His hand fell away. “And because you deserve it.”

He shifted again, putting a proper amount of distance between us just as the groom who had brought Empress to us returned. Lord Wheaton must have heard the young man approaching.

“Miss Smythe has settled upon Empress as her mount,” the marquess announced to the groom. “Please have her saddled and brought to us, along with Lightning for myself.”

The young man tugged at his forelock. “Yes, my lord.”

I still felt woefully inadequate, and yet as the marquess led me from the stables where we could wait for our mounts to be brought to us, for the first time, the life he promised me felt within my reach. Everything I wore was new and fine. I was betrothed to a marquess. I was no longer a servant in my father’s household, forced to bend to his every whim.

The sun was even emerging from the clouds overhead, and birds were calling. The fresh scent of mown grass and turned earth greeted me. The day seemed alive with possibility. It had been so long since I had last sat upon a horse that I wasn’t certain I could ride with the poise I had once possessed. But I yearned to try.

“You are quiet,” Lord Wheaton observed at my side. “Tell me, what are you thinking?”

I met and held his probing gaze. “That I am thrilled for the chance to ride, my lord.”

He smiled, and my breath caught. “Hearing so pleases me more than I can say. I want to show you more of my estate and what it has to offer. Fortunately, the weather looks as if it shall hold for us.”

“There’s no need for that.”