Henry sounded amused, as though
he had guessed the cause of her disturbance. She blushed to imagine that he knew
the effect he had on her.
“ I am going for a walk,” Margery
said. “I like to get some fresh air and see the people passing by.” She
hesitated and cast a shy glance at him from beneath her lashes. “I suppose you
may accompany me if you wish.”
Henry slanted a smile down at her and her wayward heart did
another little skip. “That,” he said, “would be entirely delightful. Do you go
walking often?”
“As often as I have an evening free and good weather,” Margery
said.
“Alone?”
“Of course I go alone,” Margery said. “I am not going to sit
inside on a beautiful evening because I lack a suitable escort.”
His lips twitched. “How very practical of you,” he murmured. “I
hope that you are not troubled by importunate men when you are out alone.”
Margery looked at him. “Only tonight,” she said dryly.
His smile was rueful. “Touché.”
“It is not a problem because I do nothing to draw attention to
myself,” Margery said. “A maidservant is nothing more than a fool if she does.
Besides—” She stopped on the edge of further confession. It seemed fatally easy
to confide in Mr. Henry Ward.
Henry looked down at her. “What is it?”
Margery blushed. “Oh, it is nothing.”
“You were going to say that no one notices you,” Henry said.
“But I do. I see you.”
They had stopped walking. “How did you know?” she demanded.
“How did you know I was going to say that?”
Henry smiled. He put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted
her face up to his. Margery met his eyes and felt fear as well as excitement
shimmer down her spine. There was something in his expression that was bright
and hot and searing; it matched the expression he had worn that night in the
brothel. She shivered.
“You are always trying to hide,” Henry said quietly, “but you
cannot hide from me. I noticed you from the very first.”
Margery tried, she really tried this time, not to let his words
go to her head. But it was hopeless. She was already half seduced. She felt her
lips form a tiny “oh” sound that was a mixture of disbelief and pure longing.
She felt her stomach clench with the echo of that desire. She saw Henry’s gaze
slide along the curve of her cheek to her mouth. He brushed his thumb over the
line of her jaw and her heart jumped almost out of her chest as she heard
herself give a little gasp.
Are you mad, my girl? The man is a rake.
You will be in his bed before you can say strumpet .
Once more, Granny Mallon’s acerbic words slid into Margery’s
mind, wrenching her back to reality. It was impossible to lose her head over a
handsome gentleman with Granny Mallon metaphorically sitting on her shoulder all
the time, the voice of her virtue.
“I was not fishing for compliments,” she said. “And I am not
looking for carte blanche, Mr. Ward.”
He stepped back, his hand falling slowly to his side. There was
rueful amusement in his eyes. “I beg your pardon. I never imagined that you
were, Miss Mallon, and I am sorry if I offended you.” He smiled at her and
Margery felt her tension ease. Soon, she knew, they would have to turn back to
Bedford Street. Darkness was falling and it would be beyond foolish for her to
stay out with him at night. Her small adventure would end very soon.
Henry offered her his arm again and after a moment they resumed
their walk, silently now as the sun sank behind the roofs of the town houses and
the sunset turned red and gold.
There was a flower seller on the street corner with a cart that
was empty but for a few bunches of delicate pink rosebuds. Margery looked at
them and her heart ached. She loved flowers, from the huge hothouse arrangements
that overflowed in Lady Grant’s ballroom to the tiny wild harebells that grew in
profusion on the chalk lands where she had grown up.
Perhaps her longing was in her eyes, because Henry had
he had guessed the cause of her disturbance. She blushed to imagine that he knew
the effect he had on her.
“ I am going for a walk,” Margery
said. “I like to get some fresh air and see the people passing by.” She
hesitated and cast a shy glance at him from beneath her lashes. “I suppose you
may accompany me if you wish.”
Henry slanted a smile down at her and her wayward heart did
another little skip. “That,” he said, “would be entirely delightful. Do you go
walking often?”
“As often as I have an evening free and good weather,” Margery
said.
“Alone?”
“Of course I go alone,” Margery said. “I am not going to sit
inside on a beautiful evening because I lack a suitable escort.”
His lips twitched. “How very practical of you,” he murmured. “I
hope that you are not troubled by importunate men when you are out alone.”
Margery looked at him. “Only tonight,” she said dryly.
His smile was rueful. “Touché.”
“It is not a problem because I do nothing to draw attention to
myself,” Margery said. “A maidservant is nothing more than a fool if she does.
Besides—” She stopped on the edge of further confession. It seemed fatally easy
to confide in Mr. Henry Ward.
Henry looked down at her. “What is it?”
Margery blushed. “Oh, it is nothing.”
“You were going to say that no one notices you,” Henry said.
“But I do. I see you.”
They had stopped walking. “How did you know?” she demanded.
“How did you know I was going to say that?”
Henry smiled. He put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted
her face up to his. Margery met his eyes and felt fear as well as excitement
shimmer down her spine. There was something in his expression that was bright
and hot and searing; it matched the expression he had worn that night in the
brothel. She shivered.
“You are always trying to hide,” Henry said quietly, “but you
cannot hide from me. I noticed you from the very first.”
Margery tried, she really tried this time, not to let his words
go to her head. But it was hopeless. She was already half seduced. She felt her
lips form a tiny “oh” sound that was a mixture of disbelief and pure longing.
She felt her stomach clench with the echo of that desire. She saw Henry’s gaze
slide along the curve of her cheek to her mouth. He brushed his thumb over the
line of her jaw and her heart jumped almost out of her chest as she heard
herself give a little gasp.
Are you mad, my girl? The man is a rake.
You will be in his bed before you can say strumpet .
Once more, Granny Mallon’s acerbic words slid into Margery’s
mind, wrenching her back to reality. It was impossible to lose her head over a
handsome gentleman with Granny Mallon metaphorically sitting on her shoulder all
the time, the voice of her virtue.
“I was not fishing for compliments,” she said. “And I am not
looking for carte blanche, Mr. Ward.”
He stepped back, his hand falling slowly to his side. There was
rueful amusement in his eyes. “I beg your pardon. I never imagined that you
were, Miss Mallon, and I am sorry if I offended you.” He smiled at her and
Margery felt her tension ease. Soon, she knew, they would have to turn back to
Bedford Street. Darkness was falling and it would be beyond foolish for her to
stay out with him at night. Her small adventure would end very soon.
Henry offered her his arm again and after a moment they resumed
their walk, silently now as the sun sank behind the roofs of the town houses and
the sunset turned red and gold.
There was a flower seller on the street corner with a cart that
was empty but for a few bunches of delicate pink rosebuds. Margery looked at
them and her heart ached. She loved flowers, from the huge hothouse arrangements
that overflowed in Lady Grant’s ballroom to the tiny wild harebells that grew in
profusion on the chalk lands where she had grown up.
Perhaps her longing was in her eyes, because Henry had
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