Page 33 of The Duke's Carriage Window
“Darius, perhaps you could see how Mr. Chelsea is coming along with that vase?” Meredith asked in an equally strained voice.
“No,” he said. “As your guardian, I must remain in his room with you while?—”
“Fine. I will do it.” Meredith tried to extricate herself from the settee. “Darius, you’re sitting on my gown—oh!” She fell onto Darius’s lap, then twisted when he half tried to stand, causing her to be tossed straight into Warren’s waiting arms.
“Well, who knew I’d be lucky enough to have the lady throw herself at me? Perhaps I should take up courting? I seem to be bloody brilliant at it,” Warren chuckled as he helped Meredith stand up. She gave Darius a furious glare, her face as pink as the roses Warren had brought and huffed so hard that a loose tendril of her hair flew skyward before falling back against her cheek. She nearly ran from the room without a backward glance.
“Just what do you think you are doing?” Darius demanded as Warren took another bite of his teacake seemingly unruffled. The bastard actually grinned at him.
“I am making my courtship look convincing. What else?” Warren said.
“That is entirely unnecessary,” Darius informed them.
“Isn’t it though?”
“There are no suitors here yet for you to impress,” Darius pointed out, holding his arms out to encompass the now empty room.
“Well, I am new to this. Practice was required.” Warren retrieved his plate and finished off his teacake before eyeing the refreshment table again. “I thought you wanted to marry the girl off? And since you won’t marry her yourself, I thought you’d need help in the matter.”
Darius got up from the settee, scowling. The idea of anyone marrying Meredith put him in the foulest of moods. He couldn’t marry Meredith, but he did wish she could stay with him, and continue as they were now. Shared kisses in the dark, quiet drinks by the fire, morning breakfasts on the back terrace. Deep down he knew that continuing as they’d done so far wouldn’t be enough. He wanted more when it came to her, and that was exactly the problem because he couldn’t have more.
He wished like hell that she didn’t need to get married. But her words from this morning still echoed in his mind. It was unlikely any future Duchess of Tiverton would understand his financial support of a young, beautiful woman who wasn’t blood related.
The memory of last night’s kisses was still present in his mind. He shouldn’t have kissed her, but she had needed comfort and sometimes comfort came in the form of kisses. He hadn’t taken advantage of her, hadn’t done anything to ruin her, at least in his opinion. It was only a few kisses; she had said so herself last night. And those kisses had been like something out of his dreams. Her lips had been soft, supple, her weight upon his lap perfect. He’d wanted to hold her forever and explore the mysteries of her sweet mouth.
“Even you cannot have it both ways,” Warren said, pulling Darius away from his thoughts. “She must marry, as must you at some point. You can’t let that bounder Harry inherit your title or your fortune. Can you imagine him moving into Knightley Street? The rest of us would kill him.”
Warren was right. He couldn’t let Harry inherit everything, but the idea of marrying just anyone always seemed wrong. His parents had been a love match, and he had wanted that kind of love for himself, even if it meant searching the world for it.
When Meredith returned with the vase of flowers, Darius rose from the settee to take it from her. Their fingers brushed on the porcelain basin, and her soft hazel eyes met his.
“Please be kind to Warren. He has been very sweet to me,” she whispered. “Besides, what if no one comes today? I would be terribly embarrassed. But with Warren here, I won’t be…”
He knew what she hadn’t said. She wouldn’t be so ashamed.
Darius held her gaze, gentling his voice. “If no one comes today, it will be because they fear me.”
“And rightly so!” Warren added, then looked away before Darius could glare at him.
Mr. Chelsea entered the room and cleared his throat. “Miss Montague, you have three visitors. Mr. Evers, Mr. Toleman and Mr. Brandywine.”
“Ah, our first victims,” said Warren.
“Hush,” snapped Darius.
A light of excitement mingled with relief filled Meredith’s eyes. He was happy to see that crushed look gone from her, but the moment she looked away, he was scowling again. More men in his drawing room to see her…to talk to her, to make her laugh, to court her…in all the ways he couldn’t.
Bloody hell…
Meredith turned away from Darius, as regal as a princess. “Please show them in.”
He was left holding the vase as she went to greet the three men. They were close to Darius’s age, and he recalled them having danced with Meredith last night. Something Darius hadn’t been able to do because he’d given his one and only dance away to the prince.
He hastily set the vase on the table only to have Meredith hand him another batch of flowers from Mr. Evers. When Darius started to turn away, Meredith called him back, and proceeded to hand him two more bouquets from Mr. Brandywine and Mr. Toleman. These were thick with towering blooms that nearly blinded him as he tried to see over the tops of the flowers. He was supposed to be putting these gentleman callers through their paces and questioning them about their intentions. Instead, he was juggling what seemed to be every flower from the hothouses of London.
“Chelsea?” he called out. “Help!” His muffled cry barely escaped the towering roses.
Thankfully, his butler heard him and hastily arrived to collect the bouquets from him.
