Surrender to the Marquess

‘Oh, look, there is Miss Wharton, wearing her primrose silk. You must ask her to dance, Lucian, it will make up for not falling in love with her at first sight, which you would have been bound to do, if you recall her mother’s words.’

‘Introduce me then and I will do my duty.’ He let her steer him across the room to where Lady Wharton was fanning herself furiously and nudging the blushing Miss Wharton.

‘Lord Cannock, may I make known to you Lady Wharton and her daughter Miss Wharton? Lady Wharton, allow me to introduce the Marquess of Cannock as a suitable dance partner for your daughter.’

‘And it is a waltz!’ Lady Wharton was almost beside herself with joy as Lucian led her daughter on to the dance floor for the set that was just forming. ‘All the young gentlemen will see how favoured she is and all the other mothers will be beside themselves with envy. I do thank you, Lady Sara, for your gracious introduction.’ She sank down in a billow of purple silk and flapped her fan.

Sara bit the insides of her cheeks to control her smile and strolled slowly around the room, pausing to exchange words with acquaintances, most of whom managed to keep their rampant curiosity in check. She had no desire to dance yet and managed to avoid being asked with some strategic dodging, until she found herself by the doors on to the terrace.

That was where she and Lucian had exchanged their first kiss. She smiled at herself for being such a romantic as to begin treasuring landmarks like that and was about to move on when a movement outside caught her attention.

‘Sara.’ The whisper stopped her in her tracks. ‘Sara, out here. I must speak with you.’

No… No, this is my nightmare again.

Despite herself she stepped outside and closed the door behind her as a hand caught her wrist and pulled her behind one of the potted palms that flanked the entrance. ‘Francis. It was you.’ Not a nightmare, or, rather, not a bad dream. She stared at him blankly, all feeling and all ability to move deserting her.

This is the man who killed Michael, a voice in her head stated, as though giving a lecture. But it was also Michael’s friend. Her friend. She had never believed he intended Michael harm and she could not feel fear now, or hatred, only a numb sort of shock.

‘I have to talk to you,’ he said urgently, his voice low. ‘I had to see you before you heard that I had returned in any other way.’

He was thinner, she thought. Still handsome, although all the vibrancy that had made him so attractive to be with had gone, leaving his face serious and drawn. ‘Heard… How can you be back?’ she managed.

‘I have been cleared of any ill intent towards Michael. My godfather used his influence to get the inquest re-opened. No, do not say it—he did not use any influence to change the verdict, only to allow the evidence to be heard properly, but—’

Behind them, in another world, the music stopped and reality rushed back and with it, her voice. ‘We cannot talk now, here. Anyone might come out at any minute. Go to my house and knock. Give this to Maude, my maid, she will let you wait in the drawing room.’ She took a card from her reticule and scribbled a few words. ‘You know where I live, don’t you? You were there last night.’

‘I know. I saw you come back, but you looked so tired, I didn’t have the heart to approach you then.’

‘Go. Please, just go.’ She gave him a little push. ‘I cannot be seen with you.’

‘No, of course—I hardly fit in, dressed like this.’ He smiled wryly and waved a hand to encompass his breeches and boots and somewhat dusty coat.

That was not what Sara meant, but she nodded and turned back to the ballroom before Francis had even vanished around the corner of the building.

‘Are you well?’ Lucian was at her side, his broad shoulders shielding her from the crowded room. ‘I saw you go outside—is it too hot for you?’

‘I—’

I should tell him, ask him to come home with me and then talk to Francis with Lucian at my side. But would he understand?

Inevitably, the reason for the duel would come up. Would Lucian think less of her? It was cowardly to fear the truth, but she could not help it. And Francis was no threat to her. That was the one thing she was certain of. Whether she was a threat to him remained to be seen.

Michael…

‘It is hot, isn’t it? But I am well.’ She went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, ‘But too jealous to watch you succumbing to the charms of Miss Wharton in her primrose silk.’

‘It is a close call to choose between you both,’ Lucian said, straight-faced. ‘But as I have fallen deeply for your mother I can make the decision based on a comparison of mothers-in-law and there is no contest in that case.’

‘Wretch.’ Sara poked one finger into his flat stomach, surprising a grunt from him. ‘Dance with me so I can make all the other ladies jealous.’

‘They must be already,’ Lucian murmured, caressing one long finger down her cheek, then cupping her face tenderly. ‘You are the most beautiful, the most accomplished, the most elegant lady here.’

‘And you, my lord, are the most arrant flirt!’ If she didn’t think about Francis until she got home she could do this, appear natural and relaxed and happy—and deceive Lucian.

*

‘May I come in?’ he asked as he gave her his hand to help her from the sedan chair and walked her to her door. ‘This morning was bliss, but very quick bliss. I would very much like to spend the night making up for that…slowly. I will come round to the back gate so no one will see me go in. That would be more discreet.’