Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(48)

Louisa leaned forward and let her head fall forward upon her desk. Charlie jumped up, meowed, and swished his tail across her face. She buried her nose in his thick black-and-white fur. It was not a lady’s posture, but she did not feel like a lady. She might have turned down only two proposals in this month of seeking a husband, but it felt like a dozen, and she knew that if she showed the slightest interest she could probably make it more.

Only, she didn’t want to, felt no interest.

She’d not found one man she wanted to marry, to spend the rest of her life with.

“Would you want to live with any of them?” she asked.

Charlie did not answer.

There was a tap on the library door and Charlie jumped to the floor. Louisa raised her head as her porter stepped in. “Forgive me, my lady, but Lord Swanston is here. He says you were going to accompany him for a ride about the park.”

“Oh, dear. He is correct. Can you tell him I will join him in just a moment?”

“Certainly, my lady.”

Louisa hurried to her feet, brushing wrinkles and cat hair from her dress, straightening her hair. She did hope she didn’t have a red mark on her cheek from laying it upon the desk. It would not do to look like she had been sleeping.

How had she managed to forget? She never forgot her outings with Swanston. They were one of the few things she’d looked forward to in this endless month.

She’d worried at first, after the strangeness in the gardens at the Sweets’ ball, that things would be awkward between them, but Swanston had appeared to take her walking the very next day and had acted like nothing had happened. She had followed suit, and so their easy friendship had developed—and if she sometimes imagined his lips upon hers, imagined what those long, lean fingers could do, that was only in her mind, and surely that did not count.

Checking her face in the mirror, she grabbed her bonnet and gloves from the table on which she had laid them and hurried to the door. Swanston did hate lateness. He never said anything, but his posture could say it all.

He stood there, straight and proud, stick and hat in hand. He nodded his greeting and, placing the hat on his head, held out his arm. “It is good to see you, Lady Brookingston. I hope you do not mind, but I have once again sent the carriage away. The sun is shining and I thought you might care for a stroll.”

Wrapping her fingers about his muscled forearm, she gave her agreement.

Walking was easier than driving; it took away some of the need for speech. When stuck in the slow traffic that surrounded the park, there was little excuse for silence, whereas when walking briskly, even side by side, a few words could make an entire conversation—at least with Swanston.

They walked the few blocks to the park in near silence. Swanston’s lips were tight and she was tempted to ask what was on his mind. He looked worried, or perhaps just caught in deep thought. The pace he set was fast and she had to hurry to keep up. He was definitely not thinking of her shorter stature as his long legs strode across the pavement.

Just as they entered the park, she opened her mouth to ask him to slow, when instead he came to a complete stop and turned to her.

“Lady Brookingston, I know that this is not the normal form for such things, but I find myself in need of a wife and believe that you would suit. Are you interested?”

She could only gape. Wife? She had to admit she had considered him, but she’d never thought that he’d considered her.

He reached out and took her hand, “Before you answer I must be honest and say that I am in need of funds, funds I know you possess. I am not, in general, short of monies, but I do find myself in a momentary bind, a bind with which you could assist. Please believe that this is not my only reason for asking you. I do believe that you would make a good wife and that we would suit. You are orderly, attractive, and have a good mind. I can promise to care for you and protect you.”

And then he was silent.

Had he actually just admitted that he needed her money? He was the first of her suitors to do so, and strangely she respected him for it. But then, she did respect him—everything about him.

She looked up at him, at the features held in such stillness.

She hardly knew him.

She hadn’t thought enough about this.

He liked her because she was orderly.

He’d never once tried to kiss her. Did he even want to kiss her? Maybe if she said yes he would.

Her lips parted as she stared into his dark eyes, wishing she understood the man. His eyes met her gaze and held it. She felt her breath still. She wanted his kiss, wanted to feel those hard lips upon her own, wanted to coax them open, wanted … She wanted to make him smile. “Yes,” she said.

Stepping back, he did smile—although not quite as widely as she had hoped—and then held out his arm. “Good. Let’s talk about the practicalities then.”





Chapter Fifteen





She was going to be married. Again.

Had she actually agreed?

Louisa could only stare down at her trembling fingers as she waited for Lady Perse to call. She’d sent a note to the woman as soon as he’d left her at the door.

Had she done the right thing? It all seemed so simple when she was with him, seemed like it was meant to be.

“Swanston? Really, Louisa, I thought we had discussed him and decided that he was not suitable for your needs,” Lady Perse said as she swept into the room. Had she even rung the bell? Louisa had not heard it.