Page 27 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
Albert ambled over to her, avoiding molehills like tripwires. She stood at the very tip of the lake, looking over it as if considering making anOpheliaof herself. Her pelisse was a green blue, embroidered at the hem and all the way up its back, blooming around her shoulders. Her hair had been pulled back in a plait, and the sight of her left him breathless.
He cleared his throat, and she hopped a little. “God in heaven, what were youthinking? I could have fallen in,” she wailed then smiled. “My Lord.”
“I have told you…” he said a littletoobrazenly and quickly righted himself. Rather, Edna’s look righted him as her eyes widened. They had an audience, now, and it was time to act accordingly. “Oh, my…” he hesitated, “Lady. How...marvelously...marvelous it is to see you.”
Edna had to turn away, and he knew it was to stifle a laugh. Still came the faintest coo from the ladies in attendance. He bowed low then gestured for her to return the sentiment. She did, quite terribly at that.
“Oh, my prince has returned!” she exclaimed with all the conviction of a wet tea towel. “I am so glad for you.”
“Has your morning been positively lovely, my radiance? For I feel as though I am living a dream to be near you.”Marlowe, he was not, but he had, perchance, overdone it.
“I dare say you might wake up. The footmen have brought out the sandwiches, and they have all stopped looking,” Edna murmured.
Albert settled beside her and dropped his voice to a hissing whisper. “Good. A sentient broom could better sell a love story.”
“You are hardly in a position to criticize me. I feel like I quite need a sick bucket after your performance.” She picked a long blade of grass from the bank and began trailing it lazily in the water. “Where have you been? You all gave me quite the fright this morning when I woke up to find you gone.”
“We went hiking and then riding,” he explained.
“I saw Papa go past.”
“We had quite the conversation.”
Edna stilled then clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Oh, you did not! Is it so difficult to avoid one another until we have seen this to its end? What was it this time?” She tugged at his sleeve when he did not speak. “Albert, what did he say?”
“Nothing of consequence,” he stated which mainly meantnothing new,ornothing you need to hear. “He was right about one thing, however. Though I fear you won’t like it.”
“What was it?” She looked up at him, and her eyes seemed ever bluer in the sunlight, taking on an ephemeral element—God in Heaven, perhaps he wasMarlowe. “Albert…”
“He said we do not know each other. And he is right. I don’t know anything about you beyond your being a little minx.” He watched her draw ripples in the water, and it gave him an idea. “Perhaps...we might change that. What would you say, Edna, to a moment alone with me?”
ChapterTwelve
“Hell and Damnation! They made it look so easy at Oxford!”
Edna lifted her eyes from her book, the Knights of the Round Table holding no contest to the entertainment provided by Albert. He was standing at the tip of their little rowing boat, his brown overcoat long done away with, a blade of grass sticking out from between his lips as he battled with his paddles.
She allowed herself a moment to admire him as he looked over the lake, heat searing her cheeks. Perhaps it was the sun. Either way, she paid no mind. She was simply looking at him the way one might look upon a piece at the Louvre. A piece with rippling back muscles and sun-kissed skin over which droplets of sweat were beginning to form, traveling down, and then down some more, until...
Her breath hitched. “You need not overexert yourself now,” she blurted out. “We are well enough away from the bank to drift a tad. Save your spirits for rowing us home.”
Albert let his head hang back, relishing the sun. He outstretched his arms and did away his cravat, exposing the sweat-sheened and slightly freckled skin of his neck and chest. Edna thought it was all rather charming—if a bit dramatic. “You could help,” he suggested.
“Oh no, My Lord. We must sell our story. And that includes you waiting on me hand and foot.”
“There shall be no rowing with these feet, I assure you,” he quipped. He cast a glance behind his shoulder to where Violet and the rest of them were watching from the bank. Chaperoning, if a bit leniently. “So,” he groaned as he sat back down, and their barge wobbled, “shall we begin?”
“All right,” Edna said and snapped shut her book. She reached over to open her parasol. “You go first.”
“How old are you?”
Edna let out a cackle. “You don’t know my age? Was that not part of my father’s pitch?”
Albert narrowed his eyes. “There wasn’t much time after he spoke of your speed and low aggression. That you were quite good at being handled, too. I dare say I’ve been swindled.”
It took a moment for Edna to realize he was comparing her to a horse, but she refused to indulge his bullying. “I am soon to be twenty.” She bit her lip. “What do you enjoy doing? When you’re not being your usual roguish self, that is. I must know in case someone asks.”
The Marquess settled at last. He crossed his arms behind his head. “I work.”
