of the soil with a quick jerk. “There. Now that I have destroyed something, I feel better—but we should hasten to rejoin the others before I am tempted to release my destructive impulses on you for the foolish suggestions you have made today.”
Females , Lucien thought irritably. He’d only been trying to do her a favor. Surely there was no call to threaten him with violence!
Chapter 6
I f it hadn’t been Maxwell who suggested walking in the Fletchers’ garden, Isabel might not have been so quick to turn to Gavin for companionship. But her husband had been playing cat and mouse with her all morning—ever since that incredible moment among the roses at Weybridge Castle when he had agreed to her terms. All through their ride he had been just behind her, and she had felt his gaze every second of the way. He had been the one at her side to help her dismount. He had chosen a seat in the Fletchers’ drawing room that was so close to her it made Isabel’s skin itch.
He was toying with her. He had agreed to conditions no sane gentleman would have contemplated for a moment. He couldn’t have truly meant it, for he had agreed far too easily. If only she understood why, and what his game was, she could counter his moves.
She barely saw Mallowan’s gardens. The soft caress of an autumn breeze against her face reminded her of the way Maxwell had touched her cheek last night, how his lips had barely brushed hers. The soft rumble of his voice behind her, as he walked and talked with Emily, echoed along her nerves.
What did the two of them have to talk about, anyway? Emily had never been particularly close to Maxwell; in the days leading up to Isabel’s wedding, Emily had been busy with her own friends, her own romances, her own budding betrothal. Since then, she had been hidden away in her village. Isabel would have said the two of them were scarcely acquainted. Yet there seemed to be no uncomfortable lapses, no awkward hesitations in their conversation. And once, Emily even laughed.
Isabel wondered if she had made the right choice a year ago, when she had held back from telling Emily about the role Maxwell had played in the disaster.
“Lady Isabel?”
She had the uncomfortable sensation it was not the first time Cousin Gavin had said her name. “I was woolgathering, I’m afraid. Such a beautiful day.” How foolish she was, able to think of nothing but sheer nonsense.
She was grateful Gavin didn’t push for more, and even more glad when Lucien and Chloe came up to them a few minutes later. Chloe’s cheeks looked pinker than usual—with annoyance rather than pleasure, Isabel concluded. Had Lucien done something he shouldn’t—or had he not done something Chloe expected? Or was the bride-to-be simply annoyed because she hadn’t received the warm welcome from any of the earl’s children that she had hoped for? More fool she, if she’d expected them to be pleased!
“The tradition of the Mallowan maze,” Chloe said, “has always been for the ladies to go in first, one at a time, and the gentlemen to wait five minutes before they follow. Of course, tradition assumes that the ladies will need—and want—to be rescued, but if you would prefer to stay in a group…”
“What a lovely custom,” Maxwell said.
“We must investigate the maze some other day,” Isabel said hastily. “It is past time to go, for it is a long ride. We will have another opportunity tomorrow to get better acquainted.”
“Very wise, my dear. We do not want you to be exhausted.” Maxwell surveyed the others. “I trust you will not take it amiss if my wife and I leave the group and ride back together?” Isabel felt his gaze come to rest warmly upon her as he went on, “I find myself feeling tiresomely romantic.”
Emily dawdled as long as she could, not eager to get back into the saddle, and by the time one of the Fletchers’ grooms led her mare out and helped her to mount once more, Gavin was the only one still
Females , Lucien thought irritably. He’d only been trying to do her a favor. Surely there was no call to threaten him with violence!
Chapter 6
I f it hadn’t been Maxwell who suggested walking in the Fletchers’ garden, Isabel might not have been so quick to turn to Gavin for companionship. But her husband had been playing cat and mouse with her all morning—ever since that incredible moment among the roses at Weybridge Castle when he had agreed to her terms. All through their ride he had been just behind her, and she had felt his gaze every second of the way. He had been the one at her side to help her dismount. He had chosen a seat in the Fletchers’ drawing room that was so close to her it made Isabel’s skin itch.
He was toying with her. He had agreed to conditions no sane gentleman would have contemplated for a moment. He couldn’t have truly meant it, for he had agreed far too easily. If only she understood why, and what his game was, she could counter his moves.
She barely saw Mallowan’s gardens. The soft caress of an autumn breeze against her face reminded her of the way Maxwell had touched her cheek last night, how his lips had barely brushed hers. The soft rumble of his voice behind her, as he walked and talked with Emily, echoed along her nerves.
What did the two of them have to talk about, anyway? Emily had never been particularly close to Maxwell; in the days leading up to Isabel’s wedding, Emily had been busy with her own friends, her own romances, her own budding betrothal. Since then, she had been hidden away in her village. Isabel would have said the two of them were scarcely acquainted. Yet there seemed to be no uncomfortable lapses, no awkward hesitations in their conversation. And once, Emily even laughed.
Isabel wondered if she had made the right choice a year ago, when she had held back from telling Emily about the role Maxwell had played in the disaster.
“Lady Isabel?”
She had the uncomfortable sensation it was not the first time Cousin Gavin had said her name. “I was woolgathering, I’m afraid. Such a beautiful day.” How foolish she was, able to think of nothing but sheer nonsense.
She was grateful Gavin didn’t push for more, and even more glad when Lucien and Chloe came up to them a few minutes later. Chloe’s cheeks looked pinker than usual—with annoyance rather than pleasure, Isabel concluded. Had Lucien done something he shouldn’t—or had he not done something Chloe expected? Or was the bride-to-be simply annoyed because she hadn’t received the warm welcome from any of the earl’s children that she had hoped for? More fool she, if she’d expected them to be pleased!
“The tradition of the Mallowan maze,” Chloe said, “has always been for the ladies to go in first, one at a time, and the gentlemen to wait five minutes before they follow. Of course, tradition assumes that the ladies will need—and want—to be rescued, but if you would prefer to stay in a group…”
“What a lovely custom,” Maxwell said.
“We must investigate the maze some other day,” Isabel said hastily. “It is past time to go, for it is a long ride. We will have another opportunity tomorrow to get better acquainted.”
“Very wise, my dear. We do not want you to be exhausted.” Maxwell surveyed the others. “I trust you will not take it amiss if my wife and I leave the group and ride back together?” Isabel felt his gaze come to rest warmly upon her as he went on, “I find myself feeling tiresomely romantic.”
Emily dawdled as long as she could, not eager to get back into the saddle, and by the time one of the Fletchers’ grooms led her mare out and helped her to mount once more, Gavin was the only one still
Similar Books
