Page 1 of Madcap with a Marquess
1
Franny
Littlebredy, Dorsetshire, England.
May 1800.
LADY FRANCINE ARLINGTON'S feet ate up the ground, her black hair whipping across her face, wind battling against her flight. But her eyes never lost sight of the old oak tree. He wouldn’t catch her; she wouldn’t let him—even if she wanted him to.
There was something thrilling about being chased, about her blood thrumming in her ears in the same rhythm as her pounding feet. Especially when it washimchasing her. Because it meant she’d broken through. She loved when she pushed him to the point he resurfaced. It seemed harder and harder to do with every passing year.
She reached the tree, jumped onto the chunky knot on the trunk, and propelled herself onto the lowest branch. Legs dangling and kicking wildly, she heaved herself up onto the thick branch until she sat in a crouch.
That was always the most difficult part. She popped up and gazed into the tree canopy, a grin spreading across her face. Thick branches spidered out from the massive trunk like fat octopus legs. Smooth scaling from here.
“Lady Francine, get down from that tree this instant!” Rupert Winthrop, Lord Hampton, demanded. He hastily flattened his disorderly mop of brown curls and glared up at her with those mud-brown eyes of his. Not that Franny minded mud. It was quite fun to play in. But not for Reserved Rupert. Mud was offensive. Perhaps she should push him in some.
What a most excellent idea, Franny.
She stepped up on a bulge in the trunk, moving higher. “I rather think I’ll stay up here, thanks!”
She glanced down and chuckled. He stood straight as an arrow, like he had a giant stick up his bum,as usual, attempting to make the most of his four and a half feet.
“Girls don’t climb trees!” he said, the squeak in his tone completely ruining his attempt at chastisement.
She turned, and one hand gripping a branch, leaned precariously from her perch, stretching her free arm out wide. Lord Hampton gasped, and she bit back a laugh. He was such a little chicken. She was truly doing him a favor. Pushing him. Taunting him.
Daring him.
“Last I checked, I am a girl, and last I looked”—she waved her free arm down her front—“I am in a tree. I do hope you don’t use such logic when you’re in the House of Lords one day.”
“You are impertinent. You will not get away with such—”
“Perhaps it’s not that girls can’t climb trees,” she cut him off, goading as thick as honey coating her voice. “But that Pompous Perty doesn’t know how.”
Franny turned and resumed her scaling. She tilted her face up to the canopy, dappled light dancing through the large green leaves, flickering over her eyelids. There was nothing more freeing than climbing a tree. If only she could scale all the way through the large, fluttering oak leaves straight up to the sky. Take flight like the birds. And fly away… Where? She didn’t know. Anywhere was better than here.
“I can too climb a tree! It is just not proper behavior for a lord. Nor alady.I happen to behave civilly. A word your governesses clearly have forgotten to teach you.”
Franny wrinkled her nose.Civilly? Ick. No one in their right mind wanted to behave civilly. She glanced down at Lord Hampton. His lips were turned down in a disapproving frown on his chubby-cheeked face. How did one master such arrogance at the young age of twelve? Insufferable bacon-brained ninnyhammer.
“Mmm. The little lord doth protest too much, methinks.”
His head recoiled, and his mouth opened and closed as strangled, indignant sounds sputtered out.
She grinned down at him. “That’sHamlet. I am sure it would offend your delicate lordly sensibilities.”
“I’ve readHamlet! And I can climb a tree. If it’s easy enough for a girl to do, it cannot be very difficult.”
“Well,PerfectPerty. Let’s see then.” She sat down with a thump and scooted up against the rough bark of the tree’s trunk. She leaned back, eyes locked on Lord Hampton. Would he do it? Would he actually do somethingfun?Her heart rate picked up.
He tilted his nose up at her, the effect completely ruined by his chubby cheeks. Poor Lord Hampton. It was hard to appear imperious when your cheeks looked like they were full of nuts. The self-important squirrel.
“I am above such unseemly behavior.”
Egads, he sounded just like his dreadful mother. The woman sucked the fun right out of life with each breath she took. It’d gotten worse after his father had fallen ill. More and more of the things he said sounded as though they were lifted straight from his mother’s mouth. And Franny’d had to prod harder to find the boy she thought she might like. Her belly twisted. Sometimes she worried there’d come a day when she’d no longer be able to find that boy. But for today, she would keep trying.
“All right, suit yourself.”
