A Marriage Made in Mayfair (6 page)

At the sound of voices and footsteps from behind, Suzanna rushed down the hallway and fled into the ladies retiring room. She shut the door and leaned against it in the hopes whoever had followed her would be discouraged and leave her alone. When the door opened with an almighty shove, she was thrown face down onto the Aubusson rug. It seemed such a wish was not to be granted this eve.

“Suzanna, I do apologize. Here,” Royce said, leaning down and pulling her to stand. “I would never have barged in had I known you were standing behind the door.” He watched her right her clothes as best she could before she turned, sauntered over to a basin of water, and tried to wipe the remains of her dinner from her gown.

Suzanna glared at him over her shoulder as a blob of sauce dropped and splattered onto the floor. “My clothes are already soiled, so landing on the floor for a second time this evening will not matter.”

His gaze stole over her ruined apparel and the sad, unsure woman he had known last year stared back at him across the room. An ache settled in his chest at the dishevelled picture she made. All of which was his fault. Had he not tried to fluster her by touching her leg, she would not have suffered such humiliation.

“I apologize if my actions earlier this night upset you to the point you spilled—”

“My drink. All over the table before falling on my backside in front of the dinner guests I was trying to impress. Since,” she walked over to him and poked his chest with a finger, “the society I had initially graced wanted naught to do with me and all because of a certain pompous, arrogant, high-in-the-instep lord.”

Royce sighed. Her tone did not bode well for his plan to win Suzanna and make her his wife. “Like I said, I apologize. Perhaps for me to make amends, you would agree to a ride in the park tomorrow. I believe the weather is to be congenial.”

“Unlike the company,” she stated, with a narrow, piercing stare that could have turned him to ash on the Aubusson rug beneath his boots.

“There’s no need to be….” Her eyes narrowed further as Royce cut off what he was about to say. He doubted his suggestion that she should be polite would place her in a more pleasant mood.

“You should leave, my lord. If you could find my brother and send him in, I would be appreciative.”

Royce tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear and noted for the first time a delightful mole above her slightly parted and lusciously plump lip. She was mouth-watering in this dishevelled state. A little of the soubise sauce clung to a strand of her hair, and he had an overwhelming urge to clean it away. She pulled away from his hand.

“And you may stop looking at me like that, Lord Danning.” She ambled toward the window and fumbled with the heavy velvet drapes drawn closed for the evening. “I know I may make interesting sport for a rake of the
ton
, but I refuse to allow you to laugh at my clumsiness or make me cry any longer. I want you to leave.”

Royce watched her attempt to hold her composure and a fear unlike any he had ever known assailed him. He’d made her cry?

“Suzanna, don’t be upset.” He took a step toward her.

“How can I not be upset? You purposefully toyed with me at dinner, to the point where I again became that clumsy freckled redheaded girl who hails from trade with not an ounce of breeding or the decorum to suit your exalted sphere. You made the society in which I belong scorn me.”

“They would not think such a thing, especially Sir and Lady Blyth. Two people I hold in high regard.”

“Of course, you would say such a thing. You’re a Viscount, lord of all you survey. They would not dare naysay or slight you.”

“You’re wrong,” Royce said, unable to believe the venomous tone of Suzanna’s words.

“Am I? I’m not so sure.” She turned from the window, and Royce noted her glassy, bright eyes. She started for the exit and he knew he couldn’t let her go, believing what she said. Royce stepped in front of the door and refused to permit her to leave.

“Get out of my way.”

“I cannot. I’ve made you cry. Please, Suzanna, don’t be angry or distressed at my foolish attempt to seduce you. I never meant you harm.”

She glared at him for what seemed an age, the dislike in her green depths as murky as the sea. Then the crack of her hand slapping his skin echoed loudly in the room. Royce stood still, shocked to his core. Never had he been slapped by a person in his entire life. Not even his stern father had laid a hand against him during his childhood. And God knows he’d deserved it at times. The experience was quite...novel, even if it did sting like the blazes.

“Why did you do that?”

“Move, or I’ll do it again. You deserved it, you cad.”

She tried to move about him, and he clasped her arms to hold her still. Her skin, the colour of alabaster, was soft under his hands. Her upper arms were so slight he was able to wrap his hands fully about them. “I am not a cad. I may have certain rakish wiles but I’m not a cad.” At her shocked gasp over his words, he frowned. “Why don’t you like me?”

“I’ve already told you why, Lord Danning. There is nothing more to be said on the subject.”

Royce thought there was plenty yet to say but her upturned nose indicated she was ignoring him. Another idea popped into his mind. “Miss Suzanna March, if you are so determined to leave me to this ladies retiring room, would you allow me one wish?”

“I certainly will not.” Suzanna met his gaze and then quickly looked away.

“Suzanna, may I kiss you goodnight?”

Her eyes widened and Royce seized the opportunity her shocked countenance afforded him. Her lips tasted sweet and innocent, a heady mixture that sent his senses reeling and his body longing for more. She opened for him but a moment before she pushed him away and walked toward a small writing desk.

“Why do you always use seduction as a means to coerce? I’m not a toy, Lord Danning, to be messed about and thrown away when I’m no longer fun. I am angry at you, so why would I wish to kiss you?”

Royce rubbed his jaw. “I’m sorry, Suzanna. Truly. It is just whenever I’m in your presence I cannot help myself. I like you. I like you very much.” He sighed and walked toward her. Suzanna’s gaze was wary, yet she did not move away. “I’ve always thought you a beautiful woman. You are kind and gentle, not a common affection found in the
ton
.” He clasped her gloved hand and was thankful she did not pull it away. “You are a lady of the first water who I would like to know better.”

Her eyes bored into his as if to try and seek the lie she was sure he told. She would find none; what he spoke was the truth.

“You were so rude to me last season. You cut me stone dead in the ballroom before so many people. Why did you do it? I thought we were friends.”

Royce pulled her toward a settee and sat. “It wasn’t you I was mad at. You found me at an unfortunate moment. My behaviour was not gentlemanly, and I apologize for the pain I caused you. I never meant to hurt you, or make you believe I thought you beneath me because of your family connections.”

“What was so wrong that you reacted in such a way with me?”

Royce frowned. The last thing he wanted Suzanna to know was her brother had been the cause of his ill humour and part of the reason for his family’s financial strife. The inability of both of their brothers to cease gambling and wasting time in the dens of London had caused him to snap at her. Hurt her.

He met her gaze and swallowed the lump of a lie which threatened to choke him. To tell her the truth now could ruin the delicate truce they’d seemed to form in the last few minutes. He couldn’t risk losing her now, not through the fault of others. She did not need to be privy to his problems.

“It was a private matter I’ve since dealt with...or am dealing with, I should say. You mustn’t concern yourself.”

She smiled but something in her eyes told Royce she didn’t wholly believe him. “So,” he said, wanting to change the subject. “Will you ride with me tomorrow?”

“Where?”

“If you’re in agreement, I’d like you to take the air with me around Hyde Park,” he asked.

Suzanna eyed him for a moment then shrugged. “Why are you doing this, Lord Danning? Are we to be friends again, then?”

He nodded. “It is certainly something I wish.” He paused. “And perhaps being seen with me may help you gain favour back in the
ton
should I have damaged it in any way in the past.” The
ton
could go hang itself as far as Royce cared but it seemed to be something important to Suzanna, and if it persuaded her to join him on an outing he was clever enough to use the ruse.

She stared at him and her dishevelled state made her look uncommonly pretty. Unable to deny himself, Royce lent in and kissed her in a quick embrace he wished could go on forever. He pulled back and stared at Suzanna and his body roared with need, bucked at its denial of her, yet something more also simmered under his skin. A need to protect. To care.

“I suppose I could.” Suzanna stood and walked to the door. Royce took the opportunity to watch her hips sway in an unconscious seduction. He tore his gaze from her derriere.

“I’ll be ready at five o’clock. Don’t be late,” Suzanna added.

He stood, and bowed. “Until tomorrow, Miss March.”

“Good night, my lord.”

Chapter Seven

“You are not stepping outside this house in the company of that rogue.”

Suzanna gritted her teeth against her brother’s dictate, one she intended to ignore. “You may be my brother, but Lord Danning is an eligible gentleman and one with whom I choose to associate.”

“Why would you want to step out with a man who only last year caused you so much heartache? Don’t try and fool me into believing he wasn’t the reason you hightailed it to Paris.” Henry slumped into the chair behind his desk and ran a hand over his face. “Explain to me why you would wish to do such a thing.”

Suzanna frowned and wondered at her reasoning. Lord Danning had been cruel, but something urged her to give him a second chance. Had she not also, on occasion, snapped at the people she loved when out of sorts and in ill humour? “Lord Danning has apologized and explained our unfortunate interaction last season to my satisfaction. And let us not forget to be seen with a viscount could sway the
haute ton
to see me in a more favourable light, and not a lady covered in ink. I need to find a husband, Henry. I cannot live with you forever, not to mention Aunt Agnes is getting on in age.”

“You say you are satisfied and believe this rubbish Viscount Danning spouts?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why does that surprise you?”

“Because he’s a money-hungry rogue only after your fortune, and he’s in queer street up to his haughty eyebrows.”

Suzanna ambled over to the window that looked out onto Curzon Street and watched polished carriages pass by, their wheels rumbling over the cobbled road. “You don’t know that.”

“I do and you will not marry him.”

At her brother’s stern expression, Suzanna smiled. “Of course I will not. I believe this carriage outing is only a means to apologize. No reason for you to go into a state of panic. I’ll be back within the hour.” At her statement, a highly polished curricle stopped before the house and excitement skittered across Suzanna’s skin. “His lordship is here. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“Suzanna?”

“Yes?” she asked, stopping at the library door.

“You deserve a marriage of love, not one that will serve only to fill some rogue’s coffers. He is after your money, my dear, no matter what sonnets or other pretty words he sings.”

“I’m determined to marry for love, Henry, and I will. I’ll not be drawn in, I promise you.” She blew him a kiss and left, hoping her anticipation at seeing Lord Danning again was entirely platonic.

Yet knowing her eagerness was not.

***

“You look delightful, Miss March,” Lord Danning said as he settled beside her on the bench. He picked up the ribbons and flicked them over the haunches of his two matched greys, which stood stomping in place.

“Thank you. Such flattery, my lord.”

“It is no more than the truth.” He grinned and her legs felt like jelly.

She tried to ignore the compliment and the heat flaming her cheeks by studying their surroundings. Carriages busy with afternoon trade pulled onto the roads around them, weaving through the traffic trying to gain their destination in the quickest possible time. Lord Danning seemed unfazed and handled his pair with ease. Soon the gates of Hyde Park came into view and so, too, members of the
ton
taking the air this warm spring day.

“I believe Lady Victoria will be in the park. Do you wish to see her?”

“Of course,” Suzanna said, a little dejected at the realization Lord Danning was keeping a record of her friend’s whereabouts.

“I heard her mention it at a ball I attended after I left the dinner party last eve.” He held her gaze. “I do not wish to court her.”

Suzanna shrugged. “Why should you not court her? She is a woman of your station and of an age to marry. She would make you a very fine wife.”

“I don’t desire Lady Victoria as my bride, nor do I hold romantic inclinations towards her.”

At the deep huskiness in his voice, Suzanna reminded herself she was there to be seen, not to start a flirtation with the viscount. She cleared her throat. “There are many people about today.”

Lord Danning chuckled. “Yes, there are.”

They drove for a time in quiet before, unable to stand the silence any longer, Suzanna inquired, “And have you any plans for this evening?”

“Yes, I am attending the Moncroft’s masquerade.”

“I do believe we were invited.” Suzanna stifled a gasp as Lord Danning’s thigh brushed hers and a bolt of awareness shot throughout her body. She shifted aside and fidgeted with her gloves, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction to his closeness.

“Well, you must attend.” Lord Danning maneuvered the carriage to the side of the path so another could pass before he turned to her, his dark eyes hooded with an emotion she could not name. “I would love to waltz with you, Miss March.”