“I will.” It was an easy promise to make.
They had the floor to themselves now. The other servants watched them dance, with varying degrees of curiosity and astonishment on their faces.
“But what about Miss Bessler?” she asked.
“I will speak with Miss Bessler.”
“What changed your mind?” she asked. “Earlier you were adamant about not derailing your engagement.”
“Once I realized that I couldn’t live without you, all other things fell into their proper places.”
She glanced down a second. “Will Miss Bessler be all right?”
“I don’t know yet. But she is better off knowing everything in the open. Then she can decide for herself what she wants.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For taking such trouble on my behalf.”
“On our behalf.”
“Our behalf, I like the sound of it.” She gazed into his eyes. “Shall I come to your apartment tonight?”
“I wish you could. But I’ve spoken to Bumbry just now and he is readying a carriage for me. I will take the late train and go back to London tonight.”
“Why such a hurry?”
“So I may reach Lyndhurst Hall first thing tomorrow morning and—”
She stopped abruptly. It was a few seconds before they could find the beat of the music again. “I’m sorry. You said you were going to Lyndhurst Hall. What for?”
“To speak to Miss Bessler. She and her father are there as the Arlingtons’ guests—Mr. Bessler and the late duke were close friends. In fact, I’ve been invited to spend Christmas there myself, but I much prefer spending it with you.”
“Would the Dowager Duchess of Arlington let you?” she asked, her voice tight again.
It was an odd question. Then again it had been equally odd for the Dowager Duchess of Arlington to have exhibited the degree of interest she had in Verity Durant. But he did not believe that the dowager duchess would actively interfere in his private life.
Before he could reassure Verity, however, Michael cut in, and whisked her away.
Chapter Twenty-one
I’m fine, Papa,” Lizzy said to her father. Mr. Bessler was studying her yet again for signs of listlessness and apathy—for him, the specter of her melancholia always hovered in the background. She was ashamed to still be worrying him at her age, when she should be providing him with the comfort and joy of a daughter well settled. “Truly, I am, Papa.”
Arm in arm they climbed up the grand staircase. They were spending the week at Lyndhurst Hall and her fiancé, too, would shortly join them.
Lizzy said good night, kissed her father on the cheek, and went to her chamber. Once there, she dismissed her maid almost right away: She wanted only solitude.
Three weeks before her wedding.
She’d not seen either Stuart or Will Marsden in the past fortnight, and it should tell her something that she missed Will far, far more. Indeed, at least once a day she wanted to rush out of wherever she was, find him, and tell him that she would marry him. Right away.
But then she would doubt herself. What if she were indeed as shallow as he feared? Certainly nothing in her recent past indicated the sort of strength of character required in such a situation. And it was not only her own unhappiness she dreaded, but his—she desperately did not want to become an embittered old woman and make him miserable to the end of his days.
Someone knocked at her door. The sound startled her. She looked at the clock: five minutes past midnight. “Who is it?”
A card slid in under her door. She belted her dressing gown and went to pick it up. Mr. Wm. Marsden.
Her heart hammered. When had he arrived at Lyndhurst Hall? “How do I know it’s really you?”
Another card slid into the chamber. On it was written Music hall.
She chuckled despite her nervousness. She opened the door a crack. He slipped in and carefully closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock—an act that made her heart hammer even harder.
“What are you doing here?” she said in a whisper.
For him to visit her in her chamber at this hour—and for her to permit him entrance—was beyond scandalous. If they were discovered, her reputation would certainly fall into a richly deserved ruin.
“I’m a desperate man,” he said. “And so I’ve decided to resort to desperate tactics.”
“And?”
“And I’m going to seduce you.”
She didn’t think she’d ever been so deliciously offended in her life. “And you think that will make me marry you?”
“I don’t know. You are the most heartless woman,” he said. “If not, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you will spend the rest of your life wishing you could shag me again.”
“Oh, my. Arrogant, aren’t we?”
“Not humble perhaps, but we speak only the unvarnished truth.”
He came up to her and, without another word, kissed her. Her head spun. Desire invaded like a horde of Mongols. She pulled away, gasping.