Page 10 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
“Bonjour, madame.” The marquis was all smiles this morning.From his silver-gray waistcoat and apple-green frockcoat to his flashing gray eyes, the man mesmerized her. Nothing like her husband, who’d barely tolerated any act at any hour before two in the afternoon, this man seemed to have no bad humors. Only gaiety, love for his daughter, and smiles for both Bella and her.
He made her mouth water. She swallowed hard and killed the temptation to do more than greet him as a mere acquaintance.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” He had his hand on the back of the chair next to Bella.
“Please do.” At least he was far from her on the other side of his daughter. She turned her attentions to his child. “The important thing to remember about a kite is that it must be light as a feather.” With a flourish, she produced a long white feather from the pocket of her skirt. Bella giggled as Giselle swept it down her little cheek. “Belle will fly. We shall make your kite so it flies very high.”
The child went wide-eyed. “Wib feabbers?”
“The feathers are for you. But we’ll make our kite so light that it seems to have them.” Then Giselle pulled out four more, all of which she’d purchased from a milliner in the Lanes early this morning.
Bella took the five feathers and swiped them down her arm. “Tickles. Tickles,” she sang to herself, and wiggled at the sensation.
Her father sat back, benevolent and approving.
“So, now,” Giselle said to Bella, “we will start. We’ll take these two sticks and put them together like that.” She wound thin string around the jointure.
Bella picked up two more sticks and rubbed them together. The angle was not useful, and Giselle tried to change it.
But Bella frowned and shook her head. “No, no. This. This is…” She didn’t finish the sentence but thrust her two sticks at Giselle and nodded.
“Oui,d’accord,” Giselle said, because she understood the demands of a child were often best not refused. “We will make your kite andanother. How is that?”
Bella nodded eagerly.
“Madame,” the marquis said in a warning tone as he turned to caution his daughter, “Bella knows she should follow your lead.”
“Belle,” blurted the little girl, “wants this kite.”
“Yes, of course you do, sweetheart, but—”
Giselle reached out and put her hand atop his. The warmth, the firmness of him beneath her own flesh, made her stop and stare up into his large eyes. “We will make two,” she said, though she had no idea where she found the logic of it. The man filled her head with visions of laughter and kisses. She tried to shake it all away…but the fires in her belly only flared higher.
He did not move, but his gaze devoured hers. “If you say so.”
She nodded, suddenly tongue-tied.
He’s married, titled, rich, and English. So far beyond you. So far above you, Giselle, that your desire for him has no future.
None.
Then a lady appeared on the threshold of the salon, called his name, strode to him—and bent to kiss his cheek.
“Ezz! Ezz!” Bella waved both her hands as she called to the lady.
“Hello, dumpling,” the lady greeted her as she bussed the child’s cheek and ruffled her blonde curls.
The marquis was on his feet, his arms around the woman. “I was so worried about you. What happened that you are so delayed?”
“The storm,” she explained with a nonchalant tone. “We had to pause just outside Crawley for the night at an inn. Not a bad one, for the countryside, I must say.”
Giselle got to her feet. This was his wife. Hiswife! She clutched her hands together. To be introduced to the marquise, she had to show respect for her betters. Manners did not die, even after guillotines did their worst.
“Well, I am relieved,” he told the woman with a hug. “I was worried all night long.”
“No need. Jamison knows our horses. Poor things had a devil of a night when that storm descended on us. He left ours in Crawley and paid to hire fresh ones for our journey here this morning. We’ll get them when we return. Now,” the woman said as she put her gloved hand to his forearm, “do introduce me to your charming friend.”
“I will be delighted.”
