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“Why ever not?”
“Why, the war. Of course.”
Marcella hummed and lightly shrugged her shoulders. “I’m quite sure that my position would offersomeprotection, as would yours.”
It was the height of pretension for her to assume that her noble lineage would, in any way, protect her. Marcella wondered if she’d seemed a littletooarrogant to be believable, but she also knew that even if Lord Reginald found her absurd, he’d never guess that her intention was to sabotage her own engagement.Ladiesdidn’t behave that way, and Lord Reginald didn’t know her well enough to say that she wasn’t a proper lady.
“I doubt that would be enough, My Lady,” Lord Reginald said at last. The words came in a deep, rumbling sort of tone, which caused the most peculiar sensation in Marcella’s chest. It was an attractive tone. Very much so.
Marcella curled her lips inward and tried to emulate Claudia when she was feeling especially vexed. Claudia was the sort of woman whose face showed every expression so clearly; she was quite an open book, for everything else that she might be. Marcella fixed her gaze upon Adeline and Lord Brookshire, who walked before her. She straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back.
Just think of Lady Macbeth. You are a proud woman who will not settle for less than everything.
At least, that was Lady Macbeth in the beginning of the play. Marcella suspected that shouting about having blood on her hands and roaming around absently at night likely wouldn’t have the effect she hoped for her performance to have.
“I’m quite pleased that you chose me to be yoursuitable Marchioness,” Marcella said, using the precise phrase which she’d been informed was in the solicitor’s paperwork. “Out of all the women in theton,you’ve chosen me.”
“I didn’t quite choose you. If you recall, we’ve been pledged to one another since we were children,” Lord Reginald replied. “It’s quite romantic in a way. Don’t you think? There’s a beautiful symmetry to it.”
A beautiful symmetry!
What a grand way to phrase what has happened. That’s quite a nice phrase.
“I suppose,” Marcella replied, revealing nothing. “You shouldn’t have kept me waiting for so long, though. I might’ve found better prospects elsewhere.”
As they continued along the path, they passed small clusters of snowdrops. They were such cheerful flowers, defiantly alive despite the cold landscape, and soon, this garden would be all the lovelier. Spring would arrive, and Mother Nature would coax open the flowers and pry apart the ice crystals which clung to the trees and over the lake in the mornings.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Lord Reginald replied. “If I’m to apologize, however, I feel that you must, also.”
Marcella feigned a haughty laugh. “And what ever would I have to apologize for?”
“For deceiving me in the garden. Like Eve.”
“I deceived you no more than you’ve deceived me.”
Lord Reginald shook his head. “That isn’t true. You behaved quite differently in the gardens than you’ve behaved outside of them, and I don’t know what has accounted for that difference. I had a perfectly charming lady, and now, she’s gone.”
He thought I was charming in the garden?
Marcella felt heat rise to her face, and she turned her head, hoping to hide the blush which was surely creeping up her cheeks. Oh, she didn’t blush prettily, either! When her cheeks reddened, so did her neck and chest. Her skin warmed until it glowed like an autumnal sunset, and that wouldn’t do in the slightest.
He’d found herperfectly charmingwhen she’d been at her most honest, when she’d been most true to herself. How long had it been since a man had found her charming? Or paid her a compliment for being herself?
So long. And never with such bluntness or sincerity. Mostly, they just believe I’m an odd girl, who must be tolerated.
It was almost a pity that she’d not been able to choose whether or not she desired to be wed. Marcella had meant it when she told Adeline that, in another time, she and Lord Reginald might’ve been fast friends. Now, Marcella was wholly sure of it.
“I can’t imagine why you’d have liked that lady. She was so improper,” Marcella replied. “I think that woman might’ve done anything.”
“Were you under the impression that I’m a man who is particularly concerned with propriety?”
The lord’s eyes gleamed with something dark and mischievous, and Marcella’s breath sputtered. Surely, he’d not meant to imply something terribly transgressive with his words. No, it must be her own imagination getting the best of her, for Marcella was suddenly thinking of how very differently that night in the secluded garden might’ve gone. She trembled when she imagined hot kisses on her lips, her throat, and her breasts.
And what would his hands feel like? Hard and possessive, or gentle and patient?
“I was tired that night,” Marcella said, her voice thick.
When Reginald looked at her, the weak winter sunlight was shining in his eyes, making them appear more silvery than blue. Marcella felt the sudden urge to do something quite rash, and that was to lean nearer to him, to gaze more ardently at him. There was such a discerning brightness in his gaze that she felt warm all over, even in places which she knew a lady ought not to think about. Her eyes flitted to his coral lips. What would he taste like?
