Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(45)

She’d promised that she would stop believing that every man she saw was Charles—and now was the time to begin.

Yes, Swanston could conceivably have been the man of her memories, but what were the chances?

Swanston was known for being respectable and dull. His own father had made it clear that he was repressed.

Charles had certainly shown no sign of being respectable, dull, or, heaven forbid, repressed.

Swanston was not Charles. She’d known him for years. He had been John’s friend. It was only her foolish mind that wanted to play such games.

He was, however, taking her for a drive in the park on the morrow.

And if her toes curled slightly with delight at the thought, perhaps it had nothing to do with Charles and everything to do with the actual man.

That was not a bad thing when a woman was looking for a husband.

And besides, “dull” and “respectable” were not bad words when looking for a husband—and surely she could work on “repressed.” She’d had a good teacher.





Chapter Fourteen





The sun was hot on her face. Louisa knew she should put her bonnet back on and hide her features from the skin-darkening rays, but how could one hide on such a day. The sky was blue; the grass and trees were green. The scent of flowers filled the park.

And the company was most acceptable.

She was so glad that they’d decided to walk and not ride.

Lord Swanston strolled beside her, stick swinging and boots crunching the stones of the pathway. He was so proper—his hat aligned perfectly on his head, his shoulders even. She doubted the dirt would dare to scuff his boots, and she was certain that no horse apple would ever appear unexpectedly in his path.

It should have been intimidating. How could a woman ever live up to such a man’s expectations?

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t.

Yes, she’d seen his glance when she’d let her bonnet drop back on its strings. She’d not been the only one to think she should protect her delicate complexion, but he had not said anything and she found herself more than willing to just smile at him and shrug her shoulders.

And he’d nodded back—not much, barely the hint of a movement, but enough to say he understood and that yes, it was a glorious day and perhaps worth a freckle or two.

“How are you finding Town? I understand it has been years since you visited?” he asked, utterly proper.

Did she give him the simple answer? I find it delightful, so full of life after the quiet of the country. That was true, if not complete. “I am not sure,” she said after a moment.

He did not answer, but turned his face to her, raising a single brow. She had a feeling it was a gesture he often repeated.

“I do love becoming reacquainted with old friends, but I miss the simplicity of country life. And I love the shops here. I am not actually one for shopping, but it is wonderful to have so many choices. And the variety of the food. It is not always as fresh as I am used to, but there is always something different. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a French chef.”

“And yet, to quote you, you miss the simplicity.”

“Yes.”

“I find I must agree.”

They walked on in silence—and yet somehow Louisa thought that in a few words they had reached complete accord, that they understood each other’s meaning perfectly. Was that possible? Or was Swanston walking along thinking of his accounts or votes at Lords? His features gave nothing away.

No. She would choose to believe that, like her, he was busy admiring the beauty of the day and how wonderful a simple walk could be.



She was beautiful. There was no getting past that. He did not understand how he had missed it in the past, thought her only attractive. Her eyes flashed with enjoyment at the day and she smiled whenever they passed a child and his nurse.

It was the smile that did it. When still, her features were even and well situated, but when she smiled somehow she moved to beauty. He did not quite understand it, but it was true—as was the sense of peace that he’d remembered. Walking beside her, saying almost nothing, he felt better than he had in months.

And she could appreciate both quality and expense, and still long for simplicity. He could get along well with such a woman. Also, she did not bore him or annoy him. It was a promising start.

Still, was she what he was looking for in a wife? It was hard to be sure.

Last night, even when he’d asked her to accompany him, he had not thought so. Now he was less sure.

She was pleasant, well mannered, liked children, and did not chatter endlessly.

She was evidently wealthy.

What more did a man need?

He turned his head and looked down at her. She should have kept her bonnet on—spots would not be becoming on that pale complexion. He’d almost told her so when she’d removed it, but had held himself in check after seeing her smile. A man would do much to keep such a look upon a woman’s face.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned toward him and gifted him with a grin, her cheeks pinkening as she caught his regard. God, that mouth was something. Her lips had parted, and all he could think of was just what he’d like to do with that mouth. He’d f*ck it for hours if given the chance. The thought of her on her knees before him, the tight constrained braids so at odds with those plump, wanton lips, almost undid him. He tried to shake the thought away. She was a lady.