He squeezed her fingers again. “Chin up. It won’t be so bad.”
She shot him a glare that should have withered him in his chair. Instead he smiled at her so mockingly she realized he was forcing her to seek courage.
What a man. If only her father would find her a fortune hunter as gorgeous as Mr. Windberry, she’d go to her wedding with more resignation. She snuck another glance at him. Indeed, she’d appear at her wedding with bells on her toes.
Black hair, swept back from his rugged face. A blunt nose, broken and healed. Broad lips, so soft and full she wanted nothing more than to kiss them over and over until he revealed all the secrets he knew about lovemaking. And those eyes…blue, magically, fabulously blue, an ocean of blue that concealed his thoughts, his feelings, until she would have done anything to coerce him into revealing himself.
For he carried himself with a strength and arrogance that drew her like a diamond displayed on black velvet. If he wished, he could rule the legions, he could control the tides…he could love a woman until she no longer remembered her name, until she abandoned pride, until her body was no longer her own and she would do anything he commanded for the pleasure of his mastery.
She gazed into his blue eyes, trying without words to lure him into a single kiss of incredible passion, when—
“Lady Jessie, I have been searching for you all over the estate.”
Jessie deflated. It took an effort of will to look away from Mr. Windberry, but she managed, and the buzzing in her head told her she’d been holding her breath.
Of course, such lascivious thoughts about Mr. Windberry, an unknown gentleman and most definitely not one of her suitors, proved that her father’s criticisms were true—she did have a light mind, unsuitable for making decisions of such importance as that of her future partner in life.
But it also proved she recognized a real man when she saw him—and Jenour-Redmond did not fulfill those requirements.
He was tall, thin almost to the point of emaciation, with a prominent Adam’s apple that bobbled as he spoke and a voice so deep he sounded as if he were speaking into a well. He cut a comical figure, except for his title, which was marquess, and his ancient lands, which required her riches to prop them up. Of all her suitors, he was the one who most desperately wanted to marry her, and he might, perhaps, be the best husband— if she didn’t mind being held in lower esteem than a stable of horses and an estuary full of fish.
“My lord, how good to see you.” She extended her hand to Jenour-Redmond, who pressed far too arduous a kiss upon her knuckles.
His gaze flicked down toward the stains on her knees, and up to her lopsided coiffure, but he said, “You’re beautiful, as usual.”
“You’re elegant, as usual,” she returned.
Jenour-Redmond was elegant, clad in a eye-popping waistcoat of purple trimmed with gold fleur-de-lis, a royal-blue jacket, and matching striped trousers. His boots shone, and his black, high beaver hat proclaimed him a man of style.
“Elegant to a fault.” Mr. Windberry’s tone insinuated Jenour-Redmond had chosen his wardrobe badly for such casual circumstances.
The glance Jenour-Redmond flicked at Mr. Windberry made clear his contempt for Mr. Windberry’s costume. “What are you doing here, Harry? Playing the merchant?”
In a noncommittal tone, Mr. Windberry answered, “Soaking up the scenery, Gerald.”
Startled, Jessie asked, “You two gentlemen know each other?”
“Only too well,” Jenour-Redmond said with crushing disdain.
Harry watched Jenour-Redmond steadily and in a manner that bespoke contempt—and Jenour-Redmond squirmed. Which surprised her, for Jenour-Redmond was far above her on the social scale, and thus even farther above a mere mister.
Turning his back to Mr. Windberry, Jenour-Redmond gave him the cut direct—not that Mr. Windberry seemed to care. “Lady Jessica, we should adjourn somewhere more private where we may pursue our courtship.”
“I dare not, my lord.” Not if you were served on a silver platter with an apple between your ample lips. “That wouldn’t be proper without a chaperone, and since she is not present, I fear I must rely on this gentleman’s kindness to protect my reputation.”
With an almost audible clatter of bones, Jenour-Redmond rushed to sit beside her. “Your sentiments do you honor, Lady Jessica.”
As Jenour-Redmond tried to grasp her hands, Jessie kept them moving, and the chase reminded her of a marionette’s pursuit.
Apparently it reminded Mr. Windberry of something similar, for he leaned back and grinned.
She threw him an exasperated glance, and in her moment of inattention, Jenour-Redmond managed to grab her. His clammy hands painfully crunched her knuckles together, and he drew her unwillingly to her feet. As he led her toward the far railing, s
he wanted to dig her heels into the boards of the porch. But that would be foolish, an act of defiance when she had sworn to herself and her papa that she would, for once, be sensible. Yet when Jenour-Redmond tried to pull her closer and whisper in her ear, she skittered backward—and into the corner formed by the house and the railing. He followed close behind.
Trapped! Silently she told herself, See? That’s what happens when you get flustered.
“My darling.” His already bass voice lowered dramatically. “You must know how I feel about you.”