Page 34 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“Fortune hunters,” she answered softly but bitterly. “They come around every so often, trying to woo the duke’s daughter. It’s my dowry they find so worthy of fulsome praise.”
“They should consult with the king’s physicians,” he said tightly. “For surely if they cannot see your value beyond the monetary, they must be mad.”
His words touched her, but they didn’t undo what she knew to be true. “It’s been five years since I came out,” she replied. “Five years, and I’ve learned that no honeyed phrases are given to me without an ulterior motive.”
“Then that’s a damn shame.” He reddened at his hard language, and they both looked over at Sarah’s mother. Fortunately, Lady Wakefield was too engrossed in watching the theater fill and talking with her friends to be much concerned with Sarah’s conversation.
Seeing that they had some privacy, he continued, “You ought to be courted, wooed. For yourself, not for your fortune.”
He ran a fingertip along the flesh between her sleeve and her glove, and she barely resisted moaning aloud at the clandestine touch.
She couldn’t withstand him. Not when hesaid such things, or when he touched her as though she was something precious and rare. Something in her softened, the barriers around herself caving in, leaving her unprotected and vulnerable. Yet she welcomed those feelings with him. Had it been anyone else, she’d fear manipulation. But she sensed with Jeremy that every word he spoke came from a place of perfect honesty. He said nothing he didn’t mean. And to hear herself spoken of in such a way . . . she felt herself sliding deeper and deeper into a terrifying emotion.
“It’s a futile exercise on their part,” she said, steering her thoughts away. “Seeking me as a bride.”
“The young girls of my parish have me half convinced that women seek only to become someone’s wife,” he noted. “You aren’t the same?”
She contemplated mouthing the countless platitudes she’d used to pacify others in the past. When the right man came along. When the time was right. Any of a dozen delaying tactics. But Jeremy deserved more than empty platitudes. He deserved as much truth as he gave her.
But what was the honest answer? It baffled even her. “I cannot say,” she finally admitted.
That was the strongest response she’d ever given, revealing how little she knew what the future of her heart might hold. Being with him made her reconsider exactly what she wanted. He made her consider things that couldn’t be.
Now, uncertainty fogged everything.
“Better to be alone than suffer with someone merely enduring me for the sake of several thousand pounds.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “A woman who sees the world as you do . . . who has intelligence and courage . . . you deserve more. If you were mine . . .” he whispered, but to her dismay he did not finish the thought. He shook his head, as if the very idea was beyond him. “‘Thou art beautiful,’” he quoted, “‘O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.’”
Those velvet ties between them knotted more firmly. Her heart to his. How would she ever sever them?
Music rose in a crescendo, signaling the beginning of the performance. Sarah turned back to the stage, hoping to lose herself in other people’s happiness and sorrow.
She was the Duke of Wakefield’s daughter. A marriageable prize, despite her status as a wallflower. Any titled gentleman would be eager to marry her. Except one that cared for her, truly cared.
Chapter 10
Country villagers were a taciturn lot. They didn’t want to divulge their secrets and hoarded them like jewels. But I was not without my own resources, wielding my charm and charisma like weapons to obtain my objective. Every man likes to have himself flattered by a pretty woman—and words flowed freely when eyelashes were batted and an ankle was discreetly revealed. No journeying hero of the old tales ever underwent such trials as I did.
With my arts thus deployed, at last I learned the location of the highwayman’s lair. He was something of a hero to the townspeople, as he often donated a portion of his plunder to the needy and destitute—though he did retain a substantial amount for himself, the scoundrel. I also learned his name: Jacob Clearwater.
Determined to retrieve my stolen ring (and, I must admit, in order to see him again), I hired a horse and set out on my own in search of Jacob’s den . . .
The Highwayman’s Seduction
It hadn’t been very long ago that Jeremy had stood in front of his cousin’s door, interested to know about the identity of the Lady of Dubious Quality. At that time, his own inquisitiveness had been the sole motivating factor to learn who she was. He’d been curious to know what sort of person felt compelled to write such salacious material, when his own life had been so circumscribed.
But when he’d gone searching for answers, instead he’d provided Marwood with guidance. And now, Cam—the quintessential rake, ever free and generous with his affections—was married. The world was full of wondrous, miraculous things.
Today Jeremy was back at his cousin’s door. His question remained the same, however.
At his knock, Strathmore, the butler, answered. When Jeremy asked to see Marwood, he was summarily escorted to his study.
He found his cousin seated behind a desk, somewhat incongruously industrious with notebooks, correspondence, and folios of what looked like agricultural reports. Marwood rose with a smile at Jeremy’s entrance, extending his hand.
“You’re home,” Jeremy noted, coming in and shaking Marwood’s hand.
“My apologies,” his cousin answered. “I’ll creep out the back door and hide in the garden until you leave.”
