Page 24 of Nothing But a Rakehell
The whole, towering hill, up which they’d just wound their way—it fell away before him. Just a few feet ahead a ledge crumbled, leaving thin air and an incredible vista. The forest stretched out first, then came the house and main estate buildings of Greystone Park. Beyond lay the fields and the river, more forest, and in the far distance, the rooftops of the village.
Keswick sighed in awe, then glanced back the way they’d come. To go from dim, enclosed mystery to this glorious, brightly lit scene . . .
“The contrast is amazing, is it not?” Lady Glory clearly relished his surprise.
“It is. It’s . . .” He waved a hand.
“I know.” She edged a bit further out, but did approach the edge. “It’s so beautiful.” They gazed in silence for a moment. “It all looks so peaceful from up here.” She laughed. “I much prefer this vantage.”
He thought about her sitting up here alone, gazing down upon her world from a safe spot—and felt a surprising twinge of empathy.
“Lady Glory,” he said suddenly. “You do know that Mr. Lycett was beingniceto you this morning?”
She glanced back at him, frowning. “Of course. He is a nice man.” She moved and took a seat on an outcropping of rock. She looked up abruptly, a look of horror crossing her face. “Are you saying I was not? Did I say something wrong? I was sure I thanked him—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “No. You were polite. But he was trying to bemorethan polite. He was trying to . . . make up to you.”
“I think you are mistaken.”
“No. I am not.” He crossed over and sat near her feet, looking up at her. “Believe me, I know what it looks like.” He preened a little. “I’m something of an expert.”
“Well, I do hate to level a blow at your towering pride, but in this case, you are wrong. Utterly.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Why you would even think such a thing is beyond me.”
“Why you didn’t see what was right before your eyes is beyond me.”
She stared at him while a myriad of emotions flowed over face. Scorn won. “Why in the world would Mr. Lycett flirt with me?”
“Why not? You are a lovely young lady of marriageable age.”
“Everyone in this countryside thinks of me as an overblown school girl. A spinster in waiting. They don’t see me as marriageable.”
He held up a hand and started ticking items off with his fingers. “Young. Pretty. More than acceptable bloodlines—good heavens, you are sister to one earl and sister-in-law to another. That alone would put you at the head of the pack in the minds of all the local bachelors.” He raised a brow. “I assume you have a decent dowry?”
She flushed.
He nodded. “Right. So, in reality, instead of being incredulous at the thought of Mr. Lycett’s flirtation, you should be considering him and deciding that he is not good enough for you.”
Her mouth fell open. “Not good enough for me?” She laughed. “For me? The girl with a permanent, pronounced limp? Who cannot dance or climb stairs easily or even take a stroll in the garden or a walk in the park and keep apace? The one who is as clumsy in her manners as in her stride? I cannot flirt. I’m a horror at managing small talk and social niceties.” She sighed. “They start to drone on about their health or their relatives whom I’ve never met and I find them deadly dull—and it invariably shows on my face.”
He laughed. “You do have an expressive face. I find it a joy to watch.”
“So glad I can amuse you,” she said bitterly. “Also, my chin is too pointy and my eyes are a strange color.”
“Your eyes are stunning. Your conversation is lively and interesting—when you are not insulting me.”
“I notice you did not defend my chin.”
He shook his head, charmed and exasperated in equal parts. With a sigh he climbed to his feet and nudged her aside, forcing her to make room for him on the rock.
“Your chin is just pointy enough.” It was true. She was a bit of a beauty, especially when she was arguing with him. “Listen, please. The majority of us are naturally inclined to pair up, to choose someone to put our faith into and settle down. I am not one of them, but you are.”
“Wait,” she interjected. “You are a titled peer of the realm. Marriage and procreation are practically the reason for your existence.”
“Spite and my father’s ruthless determination are the reason for my existence.” He shook his head. “But enough of that. I am jaded and unbending—while the very idea of marriage requires a certain resiliency of spirit and a wide dollop of steady faith—in oneself and in other people. And despite your varied experiences, you still have both.”
