C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders
Chapter 2
“Alovely day made even lovelier by the company of so many lovely ladies, would you not agree, Captain?” The tallest of the soldiers who had approached announced. The cluster of the heroic-looking gentleman, sporting their military colors, painted a rather glorious picture against the mostly blue sky. Diana’s heart raced faster than usual as she tamped down the hope of being singled out.
Not quite ten feet away from the shade of the tree where she was seated, a cluster of boats had been cleaned and sat at the edge of the water, ready to be rowed across the tranquil little lake that seemed to exist for that purpose only.
Diana sighed.
Uniformed gentlemen always appeared dashing because of that very uniform and all that it entailed. These gentlemen, however, would have been equally handsome out of them.
She nearly giggled at the thought, suddenly imagining them strolling through the duchess’s garden party wearing nothing at all. But she shouldn’t allow herself to have such ideas. Not if she wished to pass herself off as a genteel lady.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Miss Naomi Augustine called to them lazily. At three and twenty, Miss Augustine was a baron’s legitimate daughter and had been out for five years. Diana envied not only the girl’s incontrovertible place in life but also her confidence and sophistication.
“Good afternoon,” Lord Major Lucas Cockfield came forward, followed by a lighter-haired but equally handsome soldier, and behind him… Captain Vincent Edgeworth, the most handsome of them all.
Diana’s already racing heart skipped a beat.
From the moment she’d been presented to the captain, she practically fell in love. He stood taller than his counterparts, with broad shoulders, almond-colored hair, and the loveliest dark blue eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. But more importantly, he’d been awarded medals for proving his bravery, and she’d heard talk that he’d risked his life on more than one occasion to save villages of women and children. Moreover, he was honorable, sacrificing, and hearty—the perfect man—the sort that would make for a tolerable husband.
And best of all, he was not titled.
“Would you allow me to row you around the lake, Miss Augustine?” Lord Major Cockfield bowed over the older girl’s hand.
Miss Augustine dropped her lashes demurely but then lifted them to answer, “I’d be delighted, Lord Major.”
The other man turned to the girl sitting beside her. “Lady Adrianna. Will you do me the honor?”
“Of course, Captain Gilcrest.”
The two ladies rose and allowed their prospective escorts to take each of their hands. As the four walked toward the water, Diana sat up straight and, holding her breath, sent a flirtatious glance in Captain Edgeworth’s direction. Her inviting gesture might have worked if he hadn’t turned his back to her.
But he was intent upon staring across the lake, feet firmly planted on the ground, his hands clasped behind his back.
“You don’t intend to allow those fellows to show you up, do you, Captain?” Miss Coleus Mossant teased him from where she sat across from Diana.
Diana’s perfect gentleman promptly turned back around. Before she could summon anything equally clever to capture his attention, he and Miss Mossant were excusing themselves to lay claim to the third boat.
“Have a comfit.” Collette held out the open tin. “They’ll be back in no time at all. Don’t worry. You’ll have a turn.” Diana accepted one of the mints, feeling less than gracious.
“He didn’t even look at me.” She popped the small candy into her mouth and crushed it between her teeth.
“You need to speak up.” But Collette didn’t sound at all confident. “And you’re supposed to suck on the comfit, not grind it into smithereens.”
“Nothing I could have said would have made one iota of difference. He ignored me because we are...” Diana plucked at a loose thread on her glove. “Us.” She did not need to elaborate. Collette would know precisely what she meant.
Collette and Diana, as products of their father’s infidelity, were not like the other ladies in attendance.
They might talk like ladies and dress like ladies, but Diana was under no illusion that most Ton members could not see past what they were… bastards.
Their father had kept two separate families, two separate homes, and upon his death, when their brother had learned of their existence, he’d taken responsibility for their upbringing.
No one had expected the new baron to take them on as a liability. Diana’s mother had even confided to Collette that when she’d realized their father had not made provisions for them, she’d expected his son to evict them.
But Chase had done the opposite. Although he’d been discreet about it, he had treated them like beloved sisters, visiting them, providing for them, and even paying for a governess so that they could be adequately educated young ladies.
This spring, however, with his new wife’s wholehearted support, he’d taken his responsibility one step further by putting his reputation on the line to bring them into society.
Collette refused to consider the prospect of landing a gentleman for a husband. As for Diana, once she’d realized that becoming a dancer was out of the question, and she’d been fitted with a fabulous new wardrobe, she’d rather warmed to the idea of participating in the Season. It would be fun to attend the glamorous balls, to be able to dance on a lovely parquet floor and make friends with those beautifully outfitted ladies she’d seen riding through the park in their luxurious vehicles from afar.
The reality, unfortunately, wasn’t at all what she’d imagined.
Although a few of the people she’d met had befriended her and Collette, most members of the Ton merely tolerated them. Two illegitimate sisters of a wealthy baron, presented to London’s most elite, although a novelty, were nonetheless illegitimate.
“It’s my opinion that all these unmarried gentlemen are simply waiting to see how the Ton responds to the first man who pays you his addresses,” Collette said beside her in a hushed tone.
“They’re afraid I will taint them with my illegitimacy.”
“Perhaps. But once one takes notice and suffers no considerable consequences,” Collette continued as though Diana hadn’t inserted her pessimism. “Others will follow. By that point, the fact that you were born out of wedlock will be inconsequential.”
Diana shook her head. “Even if you are correct, I would first need one gentleman to notice me first.” Any of them.
“And the higher his status, the better.”
“Easier said than done.” Diana stared at the lake where the other couples were already drifting away. Watching them grow smaller increased her awareness of the hopelessness of it all.
“I’m only glad that you’re willing to make an effort. I’m not sure I could have insisted on teaching if Bethany and Chase hadn’t hopes of you making a match.” Dismissing their embarrassing lack of suitors without another thought, Collette rubbed her hands together. “The duchess has set out some of the prettiest pastries, and I’m dying to see if they taste as good as they look. Shall I fill a plate for you as well?”
“No, thank you.” Diana wished she could have the same cavalier attitude that her older sister did. But how could she enjoy pastries when Captain Edgeworth refused to so much as glance in her direction? “Perhaps he’ll ask me when they return…” She trailed off wistfully as Collette marched off.
She ought not to remain sitting alone. It was rather pathetic, really. But if she was to attempt to insert herself into any of the conversations, she'd be met with a less than enthusiastic welcome.
She wouldn’t be dismissed outright. No, she would be… tolerated.
She was one of Chaswick’s sisters, after all, even if she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.
She exhaled a long breath and shifted her attention back toward the lake. The couples appeared to be delighted with their companions and most likely wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. The thought had her slumping in her chair.
“Already weary of the parties, Miss Diana?”
Diana twisted around and, although she knew she ought to sit up prettily at the sight of her brother’s friend, the Marquess of Greystone, she slid deeper into her chair.
He didn’t need to say a single word to relay his disapproval of her. No, he managed to do that just fine merely with the way he walked, the way he talked, and most of all, the way he looked at her, like she was an ant who’d managed to find her way onto his billiard table.
He had been kind, however, when he’d danced with her the other afternoon. He’d even gone so far as to compliment her eyes.
“I’m not weary,” she assured him, lest her brother hear she was bored and think she wasn’t grateful for all that he’d done.
“Excellent, then.” Just as he’d done in his ballroom two days before, the Marquess extended an elegantly clad leg and bowed to her as though she was the queen of England. “I’d be honored if you’d risk life and limb by allowing me to row you about the lake.”
Lord Greystone was perhaps more handsome than the three military men put together with his silver-grey eyes and perfectly styled coffee-colored hair. Unfortunately, though, he was as old as her brother—practically thirty! He was exceedingly lofty and… dressed better than most ladies did.
Furthermore, he was a marquess, only one step down from a duke.
Besides all of that, when he wasn’t dripping with disdain for her manners, he treated her like an annoying younger relation—the same as all her brother’s friends did.
And just as he’d likely been obliged to practice the waltz with her, Lord Greystone had no doubt only invited her onto the lake today because Chaswick had asked him to.
Having completed his bow, upright once again, he stared down his aristocratic nose at her.
“Afraid I’ll overturn the boat and drown us both?” he asked.
“No. I mean, I’m not afraid you’ll drown us. I would like that very much.” She couldn’t very well refuse. “To be rowed across the water, not the drowning.”
Even if the idea of floating around the murky lake was slightly terrifying—and even though the idea of making awkward conversation with him for no less than half an hour was a daunting prospect—refusing a marquess wasn’t an option.
But… “Won’t the lace on your sleeves get in the way?” She eyed his colorful ensemble skeptically.
He glanced at his wrists, twisting his arms forward and back and watching the lace cascade around his hands as he did so. If anything, to her surprise, the lace made his hands appear extraordinarily masculine.
“Never has before.” He sounded bored.
Of course, he had done this before. And at his advanced age, there likely wasn’t any Tonnish endeavor that he hadn’t mastered.
Resigned to her fate, Diana pushed herself off the chair and tucked her hand into his arm so he could escort her over the rocks and dirt to the shore. And oddly enough, from the corner of one eye, she noticed a few ladies watching her and looking… envious?
Perhaps Lord Greystone rowing her across the lake wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Far better for her reputation, she had to admit, than sitting alone moping while the other guests mingled happily.
It was also a better look than consuming the pastries Collette was piling onto two plates as she picked over the table beneath the tent.
“I’ll push the boat into the water alongside the jetty, and you can climb in from there.” The marquess, at least, didn’t appear the least bit disconcerted at the prospect of making conversation with her. But, of course, he wouldn't be. Likely, he could make conversation with the queen herself if called upon to do so.
Diana nodded absent-mindedly and stepped onto the small dock. Hearing splashing and giggles carrying across the water, she shivered. The other couples were splashing one another playfully.
“I don’t know how to swim,” she announced. Having lived in Mayfair all her life, neither she nor her sisters had ever had the opportunity to learn, and it was best that she warn him early in case the boat sprang a leak, or an unexpected gale blew in and flipped them over, or any other catastrophe occurred that might lead to her watery demise.
Bent over and dragging the boat, he paused and turned to meet her stare. “No need to worry, little one, you’ll be safe with me.” Then, not waiting for her to answer, he pushed the boat into the water, grasped the rope, and hopped up to join her on the jetty.
“Give me your hand.” Lord Greystone reached out. “Careful now.”
Somehow, the idea of a boat ride had seemed more enticing when she hadn’t been standing over the actual water.
“Shouldn’t you get in first?”
The marquess glanced down at the boat and then back up at Diana. “Would you feel safer if I did?”
“I might.” Because if the boat held the weight of such a well-filled out gentleman, indeed it would support hers.
“Very well.” He dropped to his haunches and looped the rope around a short post before stepping into the boat with no difficulty whatsoever. “The trick is to lower your center of gravity quickly,” he instructed her even as he stood upright in the middle of the boat. “Staying on your feet is a sure way to capsize us.” He shifted his weight from side to side, causing the small craft to rock, and then lowered himself onto one of the two benches. “See how stable it is while I’m sitting down?”
Diana nodded. Why hadn’t she considered that being rowed around a lake required that she would be expected to climb into and sit in a boat?
While it floated on top of actual water?
Diana drew in a deep breath. She was many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
Stepping to the edge of the dock, she braced herself and then grasped Lord Greystone’s hand. He’d demonstrated remarkable stability already, and despite his elaborate and colorful attire, he was a very capable gentleman.
Her foot landed on the bottom of the boat, and when it wobbled, he squeezed her hand until she’d adjusted her weight and found her balance.
“You’ve got it.” He landed one hand on her waist and kept it there until she was successfully seated on the opposite bench.
“Th-thank you.” She tucked her knees together and sat up straight, hoping to appear as confident and sophisticated as Lady Adrianna and Miss Augustine surely must. She knew the marquess was agile by the way he’d danced with her, but she hadn’t imagined him being so robust and sturdy
“I take it you’ve not done this before?” His eyes flicked to where her hands gripped the edge of the bench.
“No.” She hated feeling so vulnerable doing an activity most considered rather tame. She shook her head but then immediately stilled when the boat rocked beneath her.
But it quickly settled after the Marquess untied the rope and tossed it behind him. He then took up the oars and effortlessly maneuvered their small craft away from the safety of the jetty. Diana noticed the other gentlemen had removed their jackets before rowing. Lord Greystone, however, appeared equally comfortable pulling the paddles through the water while still wearing his perfectly fitted aubergine jacket.
Her gaze trailed to the cuff at the end of his sleeves. She was all too aware that, although his hands appeared graceful and elegant, they were also capable and strong. An odd thrill ran down her spine when she recalled how she’d relied on him when she’d climbed aboard.
But just as she’d dreaded, the silence that fell between them was uncomfortable. She searched her mind for the conversational gambits Bethany advised for just this sort of situation.
Oh, yes! “What lovely weather we’ve been having. I do hope it doesn’t rain.”
Lord Greystone met her gaze with a twinkle in his own, apparently seeing right through her very unoriginal ploy.
“As one always does.” He smirked. “Although the rain would have added the perfect air of tragedy to your vigil.”
“What vigil?”
“The one that had you seated alone making forlorn sounding sighs as you pined after those handsome young officers.” The accusation sent blood rushing into Diana’s cheeks.
“I wasn’t pining.” She sat up straight, shifting her gaze from his arms and hands up to his face. A breeze floated across the lake, but his hair remained perfectly fixed in place.
“Of course you weren’t.” His mouth twitched, and Diana glanced away from him. He’d been pulling the oars through the water so easily that she hadn’t realized how briskly they were moving. Despite the marquess’s embarrassing observation, the refreshing feeling of floating across the water delivered a thrill she hadn’t expected. She released her hold on the bench and brushed a stray curl out of her eyes.
“Chaswick should ensure that you and your sisters learn to swim.” Greystone flicked a glance at her hand still clutching the bench, a shadow crossing his face so quickly she must have imagined it.
“Do be serious.” Floating on top of the water was one thing. Submerging oneself in it, quite another. “Lakes are always dirty. I doubt all those bugs and fish would appreciate me invading their territory.” She joked before realizing the marquess was quite serious.
“They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.” But then he shrugged, drawing her attention to his shoulders. They were just broad enough to be masculine but not so bulky as to ruin the effect of his finely cut jacket. “Besides, you needn’t learn in open water. Blackheart has a swimming bath,” he offered.
“You mean a pond at his country estate?”
“No. A man-made swimming bath here in London. It’s indoors—behind the ballroom at Heart Place. I’m sure Chaswick can make arrangements for you to learn there.”
But her brother already did far too much for them. “I don’t want to be a bother.” And because she was curious and because there was no need to impress him, she had to ask. “How did you know I was pining for someone?”
“Oh, nothing really.” He shrugged. “Aside from your lovesick expression and the not-so-covert glances of longing you sent across the lake.”
“I did no such thing!”
“Of course you didn’t.” He turned the boat and then began stroking in the opposite direction so that she was facing backward now. “So you make it a habit of sitting alone and pouting prettily at Garden parties. An interesting strategy, indeed.”
“Strategy for what?”
“Landing a husband. Isn’t that why you are here?”
It was precisely why she was there. But from her results so far, her lack of success was painfully obvious.
“And are you here to land a wife?”
He held her gaze with more than a little humor in his silvery eyes, not missing a beat as he pulled on the oars. But he did not deny it.
Which led her to believe that he was, in fact, in pursuit of his own marital partner.
“You are one of the only gentlemen amongst your friends, aside from Blackheart, who is, as of yet, unmarried. Which lady are you pining after, my lord?” It was cheeky of her to ask, but he was her brother’s friend, after all, and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t teased her first.
