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“Perhaps we won’t make an heir just yet,” he said, and began to untwine her arms from his neck and untangle her skirts from his legs. He eased himself out of the basket and pulled her after him. He held her briefly, his hands on her waist, allowing her to catch her balance, but as even that made her oddly breathless, she was relieved when he finally stepped away.
“Thank you,” she said with stiff politeness. “I am grateful.”
“You’re not hurt?” He ducked his head to see into her face, he being so much taller than she. Close up, his eyes weren’t quite so dark, and there was a little scar on his chin.
She made herself look away. “I’m perfectly all right, thank you.”
Evidently he believed her. He turned to Mr. Keith. “You’ve made better landings, Ian.”
“And worse ones, Max.” Mr. Keith didn’t even look up from what he was doing. “Don’t be ungrateful. You’re in one piece, aren’t you?”
Max grunted, then took a few steps away and gave a bone-jarring stretch.
Marietta stood and watched—she could not seem to help it. The pull of his big body—and he was big, she could attest to that—the fluid movement of his muscles and sinews, the purely sensual enjoyment on his face as he tested himself. Marietta decided there was something very attractive about Max, but at the same time she was aware of wanting to remove herself as far from him as possible.
“Miss Greentree, you are unhurt?” Mr. Keith had finally remembered there was something other than his balloon that might be broken.
“Yes, thank you. Max…kept me safe.”
Mr. Keith’s mouth twitched. “I thought he might,” he said evenly.
Max stopped in mid-stretch, turning to glare at him over one broad shoulder. “I’m not a nursemaid, Ian.”
Stung, Marietta straightened to her full height—and still had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “For your information, sir, I am well past the age when I need a nursemaid.”
Max sneered—or at least Marietta, who had never seen a sneer before but had read about them in
books, thought that’s what he did. “Are you? You look a mere child to me.”
Again she felt her cheeks flush red. A child? It was a long time since Marietta had felt like a child. Some people mistook her petite stature and vivacious manner for immaturity but they were mistaken. She was a grown woman with a mind of her own and a particularly strong will.
“Most of my friends already have their own households, and nursemaids for their children,” Marietta replied in what was for her a subdued tone.
“But not you, Miss Marietta?” Mr. Keith smiled, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.
“No.” Marietta smiled back, but her gaze slanted sideways toward Max. “I have no plans to marry. Ever.”
Max made a sound like a snort. “In my experience all women want to marry,” he said, as if he were an expert. “What else would they do but marry?”
“Yes, you’re right,” she said dryly. “What else can they do? Respectable society and those who command it have made it impossible for a woman to survive without the shelter of a husband. But I am…different, and I have no intention of being told how to live my own life. I am going to do something else.”
Max had the gall to lift his eyebrows, his smile supercilious. “I see. Perhaps you are going on safari to Africa, Miss Greentree. Or taking a climbing trip in the Highlands. Or setting up a shelter for orphans where they are taught to play the piano, as one eccentric lady has done.”
Did he mean Vivianna? Her elder sister had begun the Shelter for Poor Orphans some years ago. “I believe that life should be savored to the fullest,” she said, glaring back at him. “And I mean to taste it, every single drop.”
It was true, in a way the ruination of her reputation had set her free to explore other pathways. There was a certain freedom in knowing you couldn’t make things much worse than they were already.
Something flickered in his dark eyes—as if she had struck a chord in him. “Perhaps you would like a partner in your adventures,” he said, and his voice was no longer supercilious. “I am available.” He laughed, and it was hardly bitter at all. “I have nothing else to do but sit and feel sorry for myself, as you so rightly pointed out. Let’s go adventuring, Miss Greentree.”
Marietta wasn’t certain what she would have said. Yes trembled on her lips, but that was impossible. She had no intention of falling in love, not with Max and not with anyone, and the adventures she was planning were not the sort he would be able to afford—not any longer. Because for some time now Marietta had made her mind up that she was going to be a courtesan, just like her mother.
It was the only way in which she could have that life she craved, that full and satisfying life, without exposing her damaged heart. And her tattered reputation would be of no importance if she was a courtesan, in fact it might be a bonus. She had thought it over, and really, it was the only way she could move forward. Of course, it would not be easy. There was her family to convince—and Marietta did not pretend they would be pleased with her choice of career—and she did not want to hurt them more than she had already. But neither did she want to languish in the shadows for the rest of her life. She was young and alive, and it was time to begin to celebrate that fact.
Luckily, she did not have to explain all of that to Max, because they were interrupted.
“Hello there!” It was the farmer, peering over the fence. “Do you folk need any help?”
Soon afterwards they had loaded themselves into his cart and were jolting their way back to London. Marietta had been given the place of honor on the seat beside the farmer, while the two men sat in the tray at the back. She could hear them passing comment, but she did not join in the conversation. She felt shaken from the landing, but more than that.
