Finding Miss McFarland (16 page)

“No. No, sir.” Buckley shook his head. “They’re still across the way, by Deer Pond.”

At this hour, there was no telling what clandestine activities could occur in the grove of trees that surrounded the water. He had no time to lose!

I
f I chose to run off with you right now, there would be no one to stop me
.

A statement like that should’ve warranted a quiver of her pulse. A gasp. A shudder of dread. But all it did for Delaney was leave her feeling decidedly unmoved. “Not to worry. Dorsey’s a crack shot with a whip.”

Montwood offered an appraising grin. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. However, speaking of your driver . . . perhaps it would be best if the carriage were moving. Less suspicious, you see. And precisely why I begged you not to come alone.”

Ignoring the warning in his tone, she called up to Dorsey and instantly felt the pull from the horses. But there was no pull to Montwood. No flutter in her stomach, no constricting of her lungs.

“I was afraid, after not seeing you or hearing from you for weeks, that you weren’t considering the offer I made at the Dorset ball.”

“I’ve done nothing but consider it,” Montwood said quietly, as if more to himself than to her. “Day and night, that’s all I’ve managed to think about.”

She let out a breath, though she wasn’t sure if it was a sigh of relief. “And you’ve come to a decision?”

He stared at her for a moment, his amber gaze searching her face as if for an answer. “First, I must tell you that you’ve honored me with your faith in my ability to uphold our bargain. Not many would trust me not to take advantage, contract or not, especially given the record of my past.”

She assumed he was talking about his penchant for gambling . . . and losing. “I’m certain we both have instances in our pasts that have left us in the positions we’re in today.”

“Not like mine.” He said the words with such dark finality that for the first time, she grew nervous. “While I cannot divulge the reason at the core of my failures, I will tell you that, if left another choice, I would never gamble another day in my life. But there are circumstances beyond my control that force me into the occupation.” He looked at the shades covering the windows as if he could see through them to something far more disturbing than a view of the park. “Believe me, I’ve thought about every aspect your proposal, including how long it would take me to lose your fortune.” He released an angry exhale that flared his nostrils. “Unfortunately, the answer is quite bleak.”

A small laugh escaped her at the absurdity of the notion. “It would take two lifetimes to use such a sum.”

He met her gaze and speared her with enough intensity that the laughter died on her lips. “Or a single year, in the hands of a desperate man.”

Another current of nervousness raised the gooseflesh on her arms. She couldn’t help but recall Mr. Croft’s dire warning about putting herself under Montwood’s control. “Are you desperate?”

“Yes. But not for any reason you could fathom. I made a mistake years ago. One that I will pay for until the end of my days, or the end of . . .” He shook his head, leaving his thought unfinished.

“Then you are here to tell me that you will not be accepting my proposal?” If he didn’t marry her, she would be forced to start all over again with a new candidate.

“I cannot marry you,” he said but leaned forward to take her hands. “I like you too much to bring you into my endless nightmare.”

This was terrible news. So why did she feel a glimmer of relief? It wasn’t as if she would marry for love. Yet, foolishly, her heart pined for it.

Montwood dropped her hands and straightened abruptly. Once again, he looked toward the curtains as if he could see through them. “I must take my leave now, and before we’re discovered.”

She listened for a moment to the sounds outside the carriage but heard nothing remarkable. Nothing other than horse hooves on the clay path, the jangle of rigging, and the music of songbirds off in the distance. What was it that caused his sudden alarm? “Do you know something I do not, Lord Montwood?” she asked, staring at him with curiosity.

“Perhaps. One such as I can never be too careful.” He set his hand on the door and flashed one last charming smile before he slipped away.

Delaney lifted the curtain to see what might have alerted him, but she saw nothing. Not even Montwood’s retreating figure. He’d simply disappeared. In fact, there wasn’t anyone around this part of the park. Now that she thought about it, perhaps it was foolish to have met with him without a chaperone.

At least now it was over, and she didn’t have to worry about Mr. Croft finding out.

She laughed to herself in relief before she called up to Dorsey. “I’m ready to return now.”
With no one the wiser,
she thought with a grin.

“Beggin’ your pardon, miss,” her driver said. “Buckley ran off toward the corner and hasn’t returned yet.”

Why on earth would Buckley have gone to Hyde Park Corner? The only thing there was the tollbooth and . . . and Tattersalls.
No
.

She suddenly felt lightheaded. Mr. Croft had said something just the other day about acquiring a new horse. Surely Buckley wouldn’t have gone in search of Griffin after Montwood entered carriage. It could be a coincidence . . .

She closed her eyes. No sooner had she put her hand to her head than she heard the approach of a horse. Then, too soon, she heard it stop. “Cor! That was so fast, I thought we were flying,” Buckley exclaimed from outside the carriage.

We
? Her heart dropped like a stone to the bottom of a well. She braced herself.

In the next instant, the door jerked open. Griffin Croft leapt inside as if prepared for battle. His face was etched in hard lines that likely would have intimidated Montwood if he’d still been there. As for her, she started and nearly let out a shriek but managed to hold it inside.

“What gives you the right to barge into this carriage?” Pleased with herself, she managed a believable bout of indignation.

Griffin Croft glared at her. “Do not test me, Miss McFarland. You were beyond foolish this morning, and after I’d specifically warned you to be on your guard.”

His arrogance made her positively furious. “I am here in broad daylight in a public park, with a formidable driver who’s a crack shot with a whip.” Why she repeated this now, when it hadn’t made a difference earlier, she didn’t know. Still, she had a point to make. “Even you couldn’t perceive my behavior as wholly reckless.”

“Is that a challenge?”

She didn’t bother to answer and instead crossed her arms over her chest, returning his glare. From the open carriage door, she saw Buckley holding the reins of the horse and watching their exchange with frank fascination.

Delaney was about to order Mr. Croft to leave at once, but then he reached over and closed the door. A wild glimmer darted across his lake-water irises. Her pulse crackled, and a heated shiver rushed through her. Was he going to kiss her again? Prove how dangerous it was to be alone with a desperate man? Strangely, the idea wasn’t as unappealing as it ought to have been. Quite the opposite.

“This primitive display of yours has gone quite far enough,” she said sternly. Or at least, she hoped it sounded as such. “You have certainly made your point. It terrifies me to think that right at this moment, I could be sitting across from someone who sent a request to meet him, in addition to a plea that I bring an escort.” Hmm . . . it probably didn’t suit her argument to add the last part. Blast her mouth for speaking too freely.

He moved to the edge of the seat across from hers, which forced her to lift her chin to look up at him. His nearness had a terrible effect on her equilibrium. Looking into his eyes just now, it felt as if she were tilting forward. “You are fortunate to have men looking out for your welfare instead of looking to take advantage. Am I to assume your arrangement with Montwood is settled?”

“In regard to me, you are to assume nothing, because you have no claim over me.” The words came out with much less vehemence and more breathy excitement than intended. Delaney noted the change in his expression too, how the hardness slipped away as his gaze slipped to her mouth. She shook her head in a way that sent several curls loose. “I am cross with Buckley for having gone to you.”

“Do not blame him. He was worried about you.” Griffin Croft lifted a hand to smooth back those tendrils, his gloves lightly grazing her cheek. A tremor coursed through her.

“As sweet as that is,” she said, fighting the urge to shake her head and send dozens more curls free, simply to feel his touch again, “I would rather he didn’t run to you.”

“Who else, then?” When it appeared as if her recalcitrant curls refused to heed his instruction, he released a slow breath as if frustrated, and lowered his hand. “Do you have another candidate lined up for your marriage bargain?”

“
Another
?” she asked in a whisper. “How do you know it isn’t Montwood?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Your reaction told me as much. You’ll find I know more about you than you believe.”

Sitting this close to Griffin made her feel prickly and overly warm. “Surely, you have other things to occupy your time than to concern yourself with whom I marry. After all, it will not be you. Therefore, I don’t see why you pretend to care.”

It was only a whispered parry, but apparently it struck nerve. His irises grew dark and clouded. Though he didn’t move, it seemed as if he’d crossed further into her space. “And why not?”

She stilled. “Why not . . .
what
?”

“Why wouldn’t you choose to marry someone like me”—he said, seeming to draw even closer—“though not me, of course.”

Not me, of course
. He emphasized the words much the same as she had, as if the fact that they would never marry was a foregone conclusion. And yet for reasons she couldn’t fathom, it irked her. Annoyance notwithstanding, she would never even consider marrying Griffin Croft
or
someone like him.

She stopped leaning forward and sat straighter. “I told you my reasons. I won’t marry someone like you—or you, of course—because you require an heir. I want a marriage in name only. I want to live a life of my choosing.”

“Yes, we’ve already established the reason for that. But you
could
marry a man who shared your vision of Warthall Place.” He hesitated, searching her gaze. “Surely that would be something to consider.”

Suddenly, she grew conscious of each breath. The air tasted stale in this carriage, as if no amount of wind could slip through the seams in the door. “No,” she said, her voice a rasp. Lifting a hand to her throat, she unfastened the top button of her spencer. “I cannot breathe in here, Mr. Croft. Please let me go.”

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t actually touching her—she felt restricted by him all the same.

“Are you ill?” He reached out as if to take her in his arms. Against all reason, she wanted him to. Instead, he fisted his hands and dropped them to his sides.

She tried to breathe, but no air filled her lungs. “I’m sure it’s nothing. A bit of dust from the path perhaps. I am well.”

“Then allow me to see you home.”

She shook her head. “No. I can manage on my own. I will be just fine on my own.”

That was the life she wanted for herself, after all.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

“W
ho is she, Griff?”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Griffin turned from the window. Since night had fallen hours ago, there hadn’t been much to look at anyway—only purplish shadows that looked haunted to him. The same way Miss McFarland’s eyes had been that morning in the carriage over two weeks ago. Since then, he had not seen her. Or rather, he
had
seen her at Haversham’s, but he had not spoken to her.

He lifted his brow, as if he hadn’t any idea to what his mother was referring. “She?”

Octavia Croft’s keen, dark eyes narrowed. She crossed the drawing room. “The same one who has put this”—her finger touched just above the bridge of his nose—“furrow between your brows. I’ve seen it more often than not in the past few weeks. If truth be told, I’ve even seen it since near the start of the Season.”

“There is no one,” he said, resigned. “Perhaps that is why I possess the mark of a worrier. I know you need me to find a bride. With little more than a month remaining of the Season, I’ve failed you yet again.”

“There’s still time,” Calliope said from the doorway. Dressed in her night rail and dressing gown, she hid a yawn behind her hand. Then, as if to explain her appearance, when the others had gone to bed earlier, she said, “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve decided to tell cousin Pamela that I cannot be her bridesmaid.”

Thankfully, this took their mother’s focus off him. She moved to Calliope’s side and led her to the sofa. “I know you’d once had your heart set on Lord Brightwell for yourself. But my dear, you made your choice years ago. You must put this matter behind you. We are family, after all.” She shook her head and released a sigh. “I’m grateful the two of you didn’t end up engaged first like that poor Miss Wakefield. I feel just terrible for her, now shunned by most of society.”

“At least she has the support of her friends. They did not abandon her. In fact, I believe the elder Miss McFarland is amongst them.” Calliope looked across the room to Griffin as she burrowed into the corner of the sofa and hid another yawn. “And speaking of Miss McFarland . . . I could always take a lesson from her and schedule other plans for the day of the wedding.”

“Now, what’s this?” his mother asked as she settled a fringed shawl over his sister’s lap. “I thought after our lovely visit early on, she was through with that nonsense, as if she could have helped what happened. I would hate to think of her staying away from any event for fear that being seen with you would cause that scandal to resurface.” She asked. “After all, that is no way for a young woman to find a husband.”

Griffin chuckled wryly. “I can assure you that Miss McFarland is quite fearless in that regard. She knows exactly what she wants in a husband.”
And what she doesn’t
.