“Mr. Coventry wrote down the name of a book he consults when mixing various medicinals and the like. But it’s in French. I suppose I should have paid more attention to my governess.” She gave Marissa a rueful look. “But truly, I’d no idea I would ever need to know French.”
“Possibly you should have made more of an effort to know Madame Fontaine or one of her assistants.” Marissa laughed. “As it appears now you will have use for them.” She looked up as the carriage came into view. “Finally.”
Spending the entire day on Bond Street had been wonderful but exhausting. She wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath with a glass of whisky and think of Haddon.
Marissa was at war with herself. She had no idea how to proceed.
Glancing down the street, Lady Stanton and her daughter appeared, weaving through the well-dressed ladies and the few gentlemen clogging the sidewalk. The pair paused, admiring something in a shop window before Lady Christina turned with an exclamation of surprise on her pretty face. She began to wave her gloved hands in an excited greeting to someone further down the street that Marissa couldn’t quite see.
A flash of evergreen moved in the direction of Lady Christina and her mother. A gentleman, tall and lithe, appeared. There was no mistaking the magnificent bone structure of his handsome face nor the way his beautiful mouth formed a devastating smile as he greeted the pair.
Damn it.
Lady Christina giggled, placing a hand over her lips as if suddenly shy, batting her lashes flirtatiously at the gentleman, doing everything but leaping into his arms.
That girl needs a lesson in comportment.
Marissa had little experience with envy, so it took her a moment to recognize the twist of her heart. As the daughter of a wealthy and powerful duke, Marissa was envied. But seeing Haddon’s attention on that little puff of a girl in peach stole the breath from her chest.
She glared at Haddon, willing him to look her way.
Her young footman struggled mightily, with the help of Marissa’s driver, to secure the packages she and Jordana had accumulated today on the top of the carriage.
Jordana, oblivious to the fact Marissa was distracted and her father was just down the street, leapt into the carriage without an ounce of decorum.
How many times must I remind her that ladies do not jump?
The carriage rocked, jostling the idiot footman, who was doing his best to lash the packages to the top.
Marissa’s driver jumped nimbly aside, catching one of the boxes before it could slide from the lad’s hands.
Marissa stepped away, stumbling a bit, to avoid both of the men. She would need to speak to Greenhouse. The lad was clearly not ready to advance to the position of footman as evidenced by his inability to complete a simple task. She turned to admonish Jordana, who was hanging out the carriage window, watching the young footman’s efforts with a dubious look on her face, when Marissa realized she couldn’t lift her leg. She pulled back her skirts.
Of all the rotten luck.
Her left foot was lodged into a small hole. A wiggle of her ankle did not produce the desired result of freeing herself.
“Drat.” Turning back to Haddon and the fawning Lady Christina, Marissa struggled to free herself, unwilling to be caught in such a ridiculous predicament.
Eyes narrowing, she took in the giggling Lady Christina as she tugged at her leg. How could Lady Stanton allow her daughter to throw herself at Haddon in such a way? It was shameful behavior. Sparing a glance at her trapped foot, Marissa tried to be discreet. She didn’t wish to attract attention nor distract the bumbling footman and her driver. Imagine the fun the gossips would have if Marissa’s hair dye flew from the top to splatter against the cobblestones.
I should have insisted on a more seasoned footman.
The entire day was bound to end in disaster if she didn’t manage to get herself out of the present situation.
Good Lord. Lady Stanton must take hold of her daughter. There is not an inch between the girl and Haddon.
“My lady!”
Marissa looked up at the footman’s horrified exclamation. The stack of boxes he’d been trying to lash down burst free because he wasn’t securing them correctly. Her eyes remained fixed on the box from Mr. Coventry’s, praying the glass containers inside wouldn’t break, shocked when it flew right at her. The rest of the boxes followed, knocking her to the ground.
Death by hair dye. I should never have listened to Adelia.
Then everything went dark.
19
“Marissa.”
Haddon whispered her name as he lay next to her, naked, his large hand drawing circles against the bare skin of her stomach. He smelled so good. Like the spices her cook used when making those small cakes Marissa liked with her tea. Was it ginger?
She giggled at the thought of Haddon smelling like a cookie one had with tea.
Wanting to touch him, Marissa found it a struggle to lift even so much as her finger. Her entire body felt boneless. Sated. Haddon must have made love to her, but she couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered. It was just as pleasurable having him beside her, speaking of nothing yet everything.
“She’s twisted her ankle a bit, but it isn’t serious and there’s a small bump on her head. A little rest and her ladyship should recover. I gave her something for the pain.”
Marissa pushed aside the authoritative voice. She was stroking the side of Haddon’s cheek wanting to tell him how he filled her heart. How stupid she’d been to send him away after they’d made love in her parlor. What lay between them wasn’t meaningless. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. And it was exhausting pretending she didn’t want him. Marissa didn’t want to do it anymore. She wasn’t a coward. Taking his hand, she pressed it to her breast. “You are not a dalliance.”
“I know.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“We are not a dalliance.” It was
