Page 22 of The Dandy Lyon

Lady Joanna rolled her eyes at him and he laughed. “After the first little white lie, I grant you. However, I suspect Lord Braeton simply saw no harm in allowing you to learn to shoot, especially as we are under his and Lady Braeton’s watchful eyes even as we speak.” He nodded toward the couple seated at the table, their heads drawn together although their gazes were trained on the two of them. “Perhaps they also wish to observe us together, to help gauge if we suit well or not.”

“And do you think we would suit well, Mr. Dandridge?” They had arrived at the target, the wooden square pierced with two holes.

“Well done, my lady.” Intent on ignoring her question, Marcus ran his gloved finger over the first hole, almost dead center of the square, then moved it to the other hole, much closer to the edge, yet for the lady’s very first shot, a very good effort indeed. “You have done exceedingly well for your first attempt. With a little practice, I daresay you will hit your mark squarely in the center before long.”

“Do you think I will be allowed to continue to practice while I’m here?” A smile curved her lips. “I fear my brother will not be so liberal with his allowances once I return home.”

“I think Lord Braeton can be persuaded, if you continue to show yourself an apt pupil. When we tell him how well your first shot was, I think he will be pleased and wish to see your progress in attaining this skill.” Marcus smiled and offered his arm as they turned back toward the table. On a whim, but without changing his calm demeanor, he continued. “And to answer your question, yes.” He turned to look at her, his breath all but stopping as he did. “I do believe we would suit very well, my lady. Very well, indeed if given time and leave to court.”

She glanced up at him, that charming smile touching her lips again. “I see we do agree on some fundamental things, Mr. Dandridge, for I also believe we would suit one another well. And I hope that by the time Geoffrey comes to fetch me home, we can convince him of that as well.”

Heart pounding, hands shaking so badly he had to clench his fists so Lord Braeton wouldn’t see it, Marcus fought for control, praying to God to allow him to behave as a gentleman should, without any displays of strong emotion. Because now that he had Lady Joanna’s support for his suit—and dare he hope also her affection—he could scarcely contain his joy or his determination to make Lady Joanna his wife. Just knowing that she wished him to court her would make his arguments to her brother that much stronger when the time came. And knowing that the time was coming now, gave Marcus a new purpose, a surer resolve.

Lady Joanna would be his wife. All he had to do was convince Lord Longford. Of course, that had been the game all along, hadn’t it? But given Lady Joanna’s sentiments, Marcus knew there was a fight brewing. And he of all people wouldn’t give odds on who was going to be the winner.

Chapter Ten

Laughing as Jupiter drew ahead of Lucky, Joanna raised her face to the sun, happier now than she could ever remember being before. With the carpet of gorgeous pink-purple heather spread out before them, the heady scent of the little flowers perfuming the air, and the all-but-unfettered freedom of riding with Mr. Dandridge, Joanna was certain she’d entered paradise. This was the third day they had ridden out to gather heather, today the first time with only a groom for a chaperone.

Thomas had accompanied them the past two afternoons, after her morning shooting practice with Mr. Dandridge, watching them like a hawk for any sign of inappropriate behavior. Today however, to her astonishment, he’d bowed out. Perhaps her friend had wearied of the mundane task of watching her pick heather while Marcus—as she secretly called him to herself—held and carried the sacks. Or maybe, after such circumspect behavior on Mr. Dandridge’s part, Thomas had come to believe he was harmless where she was concerned. A sentiment Geoffrey would certainly never have subscribed to, but then Thomas didn’t need to know that. Whatever the reason for their unconstrained state, today she and Marcus were virtually alone out on the hills and she meant to make the most of this time together.

They crested a low rise and the sight of a carpet of heather, stretching for miles over the moor, made Joanna gasp at the sheer beauty of it. She pulled Jupiter down from his ground-eating canter to a trot, slowing to a walk as Marcus and the groom caught up to her. “Have you ever seen anything as absolutely beautiful in your life, Mr. Dandridge?”

“I must confess that I have, my lady.” He’d pulled Lucky up beside her and they continued at a walk. He turned to her. “I’m looking at it now.”

“Hah.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t peg you for a flatterer, sir.”

“And you will not find me one, Lady Joanna. I speak only the truth.” He shrugged. “From my perspective at least. Others may not see with the clarity of my eyes.”

“Very pretty words, Mr. Dandridge.” She kept her gaze forward, secretly pleased by his words. In her heart she knew they were not flattery, that he likely truly thought her beautiful. No man would go to the lengths he had to court her and not be sincere about his feelings for her. “I thank you for the courtesy.”

“You’re welcome, my lady. Is this a likely spot for today’s gathering, then?” He nodded to the bank of purple flowers that stretched down a gentle slope toward a rushing stream.

“The perfect spot, I’d say.” Joanna pulled Jupiter to a halt and waited, as she’d learned to do, for Marcus to come assist her down. This moment had been the pinnacle of her day for each of the past three days, to feel his strong hands encircle her waist and lift her down from the horse. That it was the briefest of instants, she had to put aside and simply revel in every second she could eke out of this most intimate, most pleasurable courtesy.

He was there in a jiffy, his handsome face raised to hers, his dark eyes peering into hers as his hands fastened onto her body. As soon as he touched her, heat began to build inside, as though she were a small chamber where a roaring fire had been stoked to the hilt. It was a wonder her face wasn’t the deep red of the Scottish plaid that hung in her bedchamber. Lord, why did she have to think of her bedchamber? Joanna gasped as she slid off Jupiter, landing right at Marcus’s feet. She swayed and he steadied her, but not before she put her hand on his chest to keep from leaning against him. Good thing too, for the streak of fire that shot up her arm and lodged low in her stomach was powerful enough to elicit a moan from her. She shuddered to think what her reaction might have been had she touched more of him.

Marcus’s eyes closed for the briefest second at her touch, as if savoring it, or trying to control his reaction to it. What was he feeling at this moment? Joanna would give anything to know. She opened her mouth to ask if something was the matter, but his eyes opened, the deep chestnut depths gleaming with some emotion—joy, desire, or triumph? Then he stepped back and released her before motioning her to go ahead of him. “Bring the sacks, George,” he called to the groom as he followed her down the slope toward the waving heather.

Trying to refocus her attention on something, anything really, and not on the tingles that even now were dissipating throughout her body, Joanna stooped and plucked a bright yellow dandelion from the ground at her feet. There were many scattered over the grass near where the heather began to grow. Turning to Marcus, she smiled and offered the jaunty flower to him. “My brother has likened you to the dandelion, Mr. Dandridge. He says you are like a common weed trying to spread your roots among the cultivated flowers, insidious in your pursuit of me and just as tenacious as these stubborn plants.”

“Lord Longford is very colorful in his metaphors, my lady.” He took the yellow flower and sniffed it, then stuck it in his pocket. “Did he also say tell you that the dandelion is one of the hardiest plants? They can grow almost anywhere and thrive even in harsh conditions.” Marcus met her eyes and her heart began to race. “They are survivors, my lady, as I am. Your brother is very astute, although not exactly complimentary in his judgement of me.”

“Then I hope you understand that my views and my brother’s do not always follow the same course.” Suddenly shy, Joanna withdrew a pair of silver gardening shears from the pocket of her blue riding habit, bent swiftly and began to cut the tops of the colorful heather. Though shaky at first, her hands grew steadier the longer she snipped. She concentrated on making a diagonal cut, and before long, her left hand was filled with the blooms. She straightened and turned, to find Marcus just behind her. Startled at his unexpected proximity, she gave a squeak and promptly dropped all the heather cuttings to the ground.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Joanna. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” He immediately bent and began picking up the flowers and stuffing them in the burlap sack he carried. “I thought you knew I was just behind you.”

“No, I didn’t realize you were so close.” Had she done so, she’d likely have been even more self-conscious. “Thank you for helping me with all the gathering.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He glanced up at her, his gaze resting on her face, a smile on his lips. “I would do anything for you, my lady.”

A sentiment many gentlemen professed, but one she believed Marcus meant with all his heart. Her most pressing question was why. “I think you speak truly, Mr. Dandridge, although I must confess I am confused as to your motive concerning your devotion to me. I mean,” she cut him off before he could speak, “Geoffrey told me that last year you in effect offered him twenty thousand pounds to give consent for me to marry you.” Joanna strode a little way away, eager and yet fearing to hear his answer to her next question. “A vast sum, wouldn’t you agree, when you hadn’t even met me at the time.” She turned to him, dread clutching at her heart because she knew instinctively that whatever he would say to others, he would tell her the truth. “Can you tell me why you did that?”

Marcus rose from the heather, the sack still clutched in his hand.

His tailor must be commended for excellent work, for the man before her was dressed so impeccably, Joanna could scarcely take her eyes off him. The blue superfine jacket hugged Marcus’s body like a glove, accentuating the square shoulders and putting the long arms into proportion. His buff breeches also drew attention to the man’s narrow waist and long, well-muscled calves, heightening his masculinity until it filled all her senses. Joanna’s mouth dried to dust as she waited for his response.

“Of course, my lady. Surely you have a right to know.” Marcus came toward her, until he stood directly in front of her. “Do you happen to remember a garden party at Lord Braeton’s estate in Sussex over a year ago now? You were wearing a pink sprigged gown with cherry-colored streamers and you were playing croquet.”