Arabella’s dark eyes flashed at Marissa in triumph. “I won’t. I promise.”
A sharp rap at the door interrupted any further discussion. Her butler, Greenhouse, stiff and priggish, marched in bearing an embossed card upon a silver platter. “My lady.” He lowered the tray so she could read her caller’s card.
The cup of tea paused on its way to Marissa’s lips.
Haddon.
He had said he wanted to speak to her and had asked to call, but that had been over a week ago. She’d assumed he’d changed his mind. Marissa cast a look at her niece. It was bloody inconvenient he’d decided on today to visit. Her niece was far too intuitive for Marissa’s tastes.
Pulse fluttering madly at the knowledge Haddon lay right outside the drawing room door, she gave a subtle nod to Greenhouse.
Arabella gave her a curious glance. “Aunt Maisy?”
Her niece waved Greenhouse over to her before Marissa could stop her. She picked up the card, eyes widening.
Apparently, Brendan had disclosed other, far more personal things to Arabella, if her niece’s reaction was any indication.
“Please show in Lord Haddon,” Marissa managed to say.
Greenhouse bowed and left the room.
“He’s the gentleman from the Peak District,” Arabella said in a low tone. “The one who you had—”
Marissa shot her a firm look, cutting off the rest of Arabella's sentence. A word would be needed with Brendan. He didn’t need to go about telling everyone of her personal business or, in this case, gossiping about such things with Arabella. She was entitled to some privacy in regard to her personal life, as sparse as it was, though her niece didn’t appear to be especially horrified at the thought of Marissa having had a lover.
Dalliance, she corrected herself.
Inclining her head in Arabella’s direction, Marissa said, “Not another word, or I shan’t allow you to help me.”
Her niece sat back, lips tightly shut.
“Lord Haddon,” Greenhouse announced, swinging open the door.
The air shifted in the drawing room as it does during a storm, just before lightning strikes.
Haddon stepped inside, his male presence immediately at odds with the delicate feminine décor of Marissa’s drawing room. A wicked half-smile tilted his lips as he paused at the doorway, completely assured of his welcome. Dark hair lay tousled about his ears and a touch of pink lit his high cheekbones from the cooler air outside.
How dare he appear before her looking so . . . delicious.
“Oh, Auntie,” Arabella said under her breath as she took in Haddon. “Good Lord.”
“Lady Cupps-Foster.” Haddon’s gaze was focused on her mouth as he greeted her. “I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.” A thick wave of hair fell against his forehead as he came forward to take her hand.
“Not at all.” The light brush of his lips against her knuckles was enough to turn the entire lower half of her body to jelly. “I hadn’t expected you to appear today.”
“My apologies. And here I thought you’d take me to task for my delay in calling upon you.”
Arabella watched the exchange with interest, pretending to nibble at her biscuit.
"My niece, Lady Malden,” Marissa said crisply.
Haddon greeted Arabella politely before settling himself in a chair just to Marissa’s left, much too close for her comfort if the rippling of her skin was any indication. He leaned back, stretching out his long legs until the toe of his boot nearly touched her skirts.
Impudent rake. Awareness of him swirled, making her insides clench. I should have informed him I was not receiving.
“What a pleasure to meet a . . . friend of my aunt’s.” Arabella smiled, clearly enjoying Marissa’s discomfort.
“Lord Haddon and I met during my visit with Brendan,” Marissa said.
“At a house party, of all things.” Haddon didn’t look at Arabella as he answered, his attention entirely on Marissa. “Your charming aunt helped relieve some of the tedium.”
Arabella took a large swallow of tea, hiding the smile tugging at her lips.
Marissa gritted her teeth at the innuendo behind his words. “Haddon and your cousin are friends.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t seen Morwick in some time. A disagreement of a very ancient nature has put us at odds.” The silver eyes twinkled with amusement at Marissa, daring her to contradict him.
She coughed delicately, wanted to hurl her teacup at him. “I've so enjoyed your visit, my dear,” Marissa said, turning to Arabella. “I know you must be on your way. Give my love to Rowan and darling Lily."
Arabella stood immediately, wisely taking the hint. “My, I fear I have lost track of the time. I’ll take my leave, Aunt Maisy. My husband will wonder where I’ve gotten off to.”
Haddon stood. “Pray don’t leave on my account, Lady Malden.”
“Not at all.” Arabella leaned forward to press a kiss to Marissa’s cheek. “He’s quite something,” she whispered in Marissa’s ear before straightening. “I’ll bring Lily next time,” she assured Marissa. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Haddon.”
“And you, Lady Malden.”
Arabella took her sweet time leaving the room, perhaps hoping to overhear something salacious.
Marissa would need to have a very pointed discussion with her niece.
Haddon regarded her in silence until the door of the drawing room shut behind Arabella with a soft click. Removing his gloves, he laid them on the arm of the chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. His trousers pulled sharply against his heavily muscled thighs.
Drat.
It was a struggle for her not to look, which Marissa was certain was Haddon’s intent. She had wondered during their previous dalliance what he did with himself which resulted in such a lean, powerful form. Her eyes were drawn to the large hands with their calloused blunt-tipped fingers, and she remembered the way he’d caressed her skin. Not with the hands of a gentleman, which were often as soft and pliant as her own and certainly—
“Marissa?” He watched her
