***
His chest heaving, Nick stood with his back to the terrace door. He'd done the right thing, the honorable thing. Yet he'd never felt like a bigger cad in his entire life. He'd left her alone on the terrace with kiss-swollen lips and rejection in her eyes. He stationed himself at the door, determined to watch over her from a safe distance until she came back in, but the seconds drew into minutes. His concern for her grew as the minutes lengthened to a quarter hour. Why had she not come in? Should he go back and escort her inside?
He was deliberating just that when Lady Russell approached with a look of censure. "My dear Needham, where is your coat?"
His coat? He looked down to find himself in shirtsleeves and waistcoat. He hadn't even realized he'd forgotten it. "I gave it to Lady Mariah," he said.
"To Lady Mariah? Why on earth would she need a gentleman's coat?"
"She desired some air and had no shawl."
The furrow between her brows deepened. "You let her go into the night unescorted?"
"She is only on the terrace, my lady. I thought it best, for propriety's sake, to wait for her here."
"Then you are a fool, Needham."
"Excuse me?"
"What young woman wants to be alone on a moonlit terrace? Indeed, we are both fools, for I never should have encouraged her to accept Rochford."
"Why is that?" he asked. "He's one of the most eligible bachelors in England."
"Who I have every reason to believe is presently cavorting with Lady Cumberbatch. She pled a headache a while ago and left the card tables. Shortly after that, Rochford also disappeared in her direction. It is no secret they were once lovers. I do not believe that Mariah has the temperament to suffer such a marital arrangement. She desires affection and fidelity, and I don't believe Rochford is capable of either. You, however . . ."
"Me?" he repeated, aghast. "What are you suggesting? You know my circumstances."
"Pshaw! A man's circumstances can change, Needham—especially given proper motivation."
Proper motivation? What did that mean?
"Dear me, it grows late." She suppressed a yawn. "I do believe I should like to retire now. Would you be so kind as to retrieve my errant charge? I won't rest unless I am assured she is in your safe hands."
His safe hands? He wasn't sure how to respond to that, but Lady Russell tripped away before he could answer.
Determined only to escort Mariah back inside, he spun to the terrace door and opened it. Bloody, bloody hell. She was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
"For present joys are more to flesh and blood
Than a dull prospect of a distant good."- John Dryden
THROUGH EYES BLURRED WITH TEARS, Mariah navigated the meandering gravel path to the ornamental fountain at the garden's center. Her sobs gradually diminished to an occasional sniff. She sat on the stone bench to remove a pebble that had worked its way into her slipper and then shut her eyes in an effort to lose herself in the trickling tranquility of the cascading fountain. Although now cloaked in darkness, she was still close enough to catch occasional snatches of music and ripples of laughter escaping from the house. After a few minutes, she became aware of the crunch of gravel under someone else's feet.
"Lady Mariah?"
She sucked in a gasp. It was him. Why couldn't he just leave her be? She wished she could hide, or even better, that the earth would just open up and swallow her. "Please leave me, Mr. Needham," she whispered without turning to face him. "I wish to be left alone."
"No, Mariah," he spoke to her back. "The terrace was one thing, but this is quite another. It's not safe for you to be alone out here. Lady Russell has already retired and asked me to escort you back inside."
"But I told you I don't wish to retire until my cousin arrives."
"Well, I shan't leave you out here alone," he insisted.
"You contradict yourself," she replied peevishly. "Less than an hour ago, your greatest fear was for anyone to find us together."
"I told you I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me? I don't understand you at all. If you were so very concerned over my virtue, why did you kiss me in the first place?"
"Why? Because I bloody well couldn't help myself."
"Are you a rake, Mr. Needham?" she asked pointedly.
"Me? A rake?" he asked in a burst of laughter. "I may be flawed in many ways, but I assure you I have never in my life set out to debauch a virgin."
"Then why would you lead me to believe you cared for me?"
Her heart galloped as he reached out a finger to stroke the side of her face. "I do care for you. I have never felt this way for any woman before." He added with an anguished look, "But nothing can come of it."