The Marker (9 page)
Damn the woman, but he’d tried everything. Courting Lexie had proven more difficult than he’d ever imagined.
He invited her to tea. Gave her what he thought was a clear invitation to join him.
She arrived in her maid’s uniform, brought him tea, and silently excused herself.
He asked her to go riding with him.
She came, still in her damn maid’s uniform. One of the stable boys explained to him she didn’t own a riding costume. When he said he didn’t think she needed one and assisted her onto the horse, she rode so poorly he took pity on her and took her back to the stables.
He asked her to dinner, invited her to sit, and insisted she finish the meal.
She brought him dinner, took her plate to the kitchen, sat at the table, and ate there. After all, when he had insisted she eat the meal, he hadn’t specified where or with whom. When he joined her in the kitchen, she went to the dining room. He allowed her to sit alone for a few moments, but when he went out to join her, he found only an empty plate. She must have shoveled the food into her mouth to finish so quickly.
He had to laugh. So she thought she was pretty clever.
With all of his attempts, she never actually declined. She did as he bade her, but she did only what he asked of her and nothing more. Join him for tea? Oh, she came, and then she left. He’d like to see her at dinner? Certainly. She’d come and sit at the table, stare at him, and not say a word. Riding was clearly out of the question, given her skills or lack thereof.
What could he do to charm her back into her voice? There had to be something he could do to force her to talk to him.
After days of wracking his brain, the idea came to him in a flash of brilliance. The Governor’s Ball. Nicholas was willing to wager she had never been gone to such an event, nor had the opportunity to break out any finery she may have possessed. He hadn’t planned on going, but if he took her, Lexie’s good manners would require her to speak. She would never be so rude as to ignore him at such an event. He wished he had thought of it earlier.
He asked her in the form of a letter, and his instructions were specific.
Come with me to the Governor’s Ball. This is a formal event and dress accordingly. The navy gown would be appropriate. I will be attending as your escort.
Later that day, she stormed into his study, shaking his note at him. He had laughed at her, but when she said nothing, he knew she would attend. After all, she had no voice to refuse him with. He found, rather than dreading such an event, he looked forward to it, if it meant he would spend time with Lexie. More so if it meant he would finally hear her voice.
The day of the ball, Mrs. Ferguson clucked over Lexie like a hen, more excited than Lexie that she would get to rub elbows with some of the most important people in the state, blissfully fussing over her, helping her choose what to wear, how to style her hair, making sure she was perfumed and primped.
Finishing her no-so-gentle ministrations, Mrs. Ferguson clasped her hands together and admired her handiwork. “Och, lass, you are a vision.”
Lexie smiled at the older woman, pleased with her reflection. Her dark hair was curled and had been twisted in an elaborate coif that still allowed the curly, dark mass to spill down her back. A small amount of rouge colored her cheeks and her lips—just enough to draw attention. She had to admit the gown she had chosen was lovely: the scarlet silk, with a fitted bodice that clung to her curves all the way to her small, narrow waist. She had chosen it because Nicholas wanted her to wear the navy, because the bright color seemed so different from the more subdued, darker one. Even so, she felt naked in the low-cut bodice with small cap sleeves exposing her pale shoulders and more bosom than she cared for. Delicate, a touch risqué, this was a gown designed to be worn only once. She had never even fancied wearing something like this.
She wondered if she should take it off and go with something a little less provocative. Maybe Nicholas was right. Maybe she should wear the navy.
She wondered what her father would say if he found out what she was wearing.
She wondered if Nicholas would like it.
“You’ll have a hard time keeping the gentleman at bay, I’d wager. Mr. Wetherby will have his hands full, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Ferguson said as if hearing her thoughts. Then, with a laugh, she added, “Serves him right, too.”
Lexie frowned. Was she so transparent? She didn’t want to want Nicholas’s approval, but she secretly did. “I am not interested in what Mr. Wetherby thinks.”
Mrs. Ferguson laughed outright. “Of course ye are, lass,” she chided. “Never a woman born who didn’t have at least a fleeting desire to impress him. Even me, and I’m a happily married woman, and too old for the likes of him, besides.”
“Oh, Mrs. Ferguson, not you, too?” Lexie asked with a laugh.
The older woman smiled. “I might be old enough to be his mother, but I’m neither blind nor dead. I’m well aware our employer is an attractive man. Twenty years ago, he’d have given my Seamus a run for his money.”
Lexie laughed at the idea of Nicholas courting his chubby, fifty-something housekeeper. “I’m sure you’d be a scorching couple, Mrs. Ferguson.” The older woman snorted a laugh and Lexie turned back to the mirror. “You’ve outdone yourself with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help.”
“Hardly had to do anything. You’re a beautiful woman.” Mrs. Ferguson gave Lexie an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “I can see why Mr. Wetherby is besotted with ye.”
Her heart gave an excited lurch, but Lexie waved her hand dismissively. “He’s not besotted with me,” she scoffed.
“Whatever you say, dear.”
“Oh, for goodness sake. He’s only interested because no one’s ever told him ‘no’ before.”
Mrs. Ferguson chuckled like a proud mother hen. “True enough—he rarely gets turned down. But there’s something in his eyes when he looks at ye. It’s not the same with ye as it is with the other girls.” As Mrs. Ferguson said the words, Lexie bit her lip to refrain from asking just how she was different. She didn’t want to know.
Good God, she
really
wanted to know.
Reading her face as easily as Lexie read her books, Mrs. Ferguson said, “Let’s just say he’s interested, dear, and leave it at that. I know he’s got a bad reputation, but he really is a good man. He just doesn’t let anyone see it much. You could do worse.”
Mrs. Ferguson was right—she could do worse. In fact, in roughly ten months, she would be doing worse. So much worse.
Lexie knew Nicholas was interested. She wished he wasn’t. If he weren’t, he’d ignore her, and she’d pine for him from afar, finish up her time here, and get married. If he weren’t interested, he wouldn’t spend so much of his free time attempting to cajole her into speaking to him again, and she wouldn’t enjoy her time here nearly as much as she did. She couldn’t relent, because that was precisely what she wanted to do—give in and allow the overwhelming attraction to take over. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted his fingers brushing against her skin. He fascinated her in a way no one else ever had.
She needed to remember she would never, could never, be his. That to relent would be to risk losing her heart, for there was no middle ground when it came to Nicholas. She and Nicholas operated in the extremes: wildly passionate or coldly distant.
She was not, nor ever would be, a risk-taker. After all, she’d seen what taking risks had done to her father.
With a derisive, unladylike snort, Lexie asked, “You’re not trying to get us together, are you? He’s a notorious womanizer. He’s not interested in anything serious, and no self-respecting woman would fall for his tricks.”
“Och, if that were true, he wouldn’t be taking ye to the Governor’s Ball tonight.
This
is no trick. Besides, ye know you’re going to have to talk to him sometime. Don’t ye think you’ve made your point and punished the man enough?”
Lexie knew better. If she opened her mouth to talk to him, he would see it as a capitulation. If she talked to him now, where would she stop? Would she stop with simple talk? If he kissed her, would she be able to stop with kissing? Fact was, nothing and no one had ever stirred her blood quite like he did, and giving in to the smallest temptation—even just to utter a few words—would be a risk Lexie was unwilling to take. There was so much at stake. If she allowed him anything, she would fall for him. She couldn’t engage her heart in anything. If she did, how would she ever regain it?
Unfortunately, she could so easily fall for someone like Nicholas.
Releasing another gusty sigh, she said, “Mrs. Ferguson, it’s just so complicated.”
“Doesn’t have to be. He’s a good lad, and he’s got a good heart. I suspect when he falls in love, he will love only once. He dallies with his women, but his heart isn’t involved. I think when he finds the right woman, he will love her until the day he dies.”
“You can’t possibly think I’m the one. I’m his
servant
. Not only that, but he
won
me in a
poker game
. What kind of man does that?”
“Well, I suppose there are better ways this could’ve come about, but your father is the man who holds the major share of the blame for putting ye in this situation. As for Nicholas’s honor, I’m sure most other men would have made your time here...unpleasant. He hasn’t done that, has he?”
Silence fell between them. Of course he hadn’t made her miserable. He’d been willing to test boundaries, but he didn’t cross them. Mrs. Ferguson sighed as she regarded her. “Lexie, lass, you’re his perfect match. I didn’t think so when he brought ye here, but the more I get to know ye, the better I see it. How this happened is unimportant, don’t ye think? You’re beautiful, well-read, and as stubborn as he is. You’ll give him a challenge, and a man like him needs one. And lass, ye need someone who will pull ye out of your shell, who will make ye think, who will love ye with his whole heart. I think our Mr. Wetherby is capable of that.”
Lexie shook her head. Of course she wanted to be
the one
, the one woman who could tame the wild heart of Nicholas Wetherby, the one woman he would love above all others. As Mrs. Ferguson had pointed out, a woman would be daft and blind to not want Nicholas, and Lexie was neither. When he turned on his charm, she wasn’t impervious. It had been work to maintain her stony silence. Already promised to another, she was treading in dangerous waters when she entertained the idea she was the one for him.
“It doesn’t matter, Mrs. Ferguson. Mr. Wetherby and I are not to be.”
Nicholas waited for her in the foyer. Upon hearing the rustle of fine silk, he glanced up.
And stared, the breath temporarily stolen from his lungs.
Lexie was a vision dressed in scarlet. He thought she would wear the navy—it was far more sedate than the scarlet, a more typical dress for an evening with the governor. The other women in attendance would more than likely be dressed in darker, more subtly alluring gowns.
This
dress had been designed to draw a man’s attention to what were Lexie’s considerable assets. In a million years, he never would’ve guessed she would choose to wear this dress to the Governor’s Ball—she’d be sure to garner attention, that was for certain. He just wasn’t sure she realized that not all of it would be the kind she wanted. He almost told her to go back and change into something a little less...provocative.
But if he ordered her to change, she would twist his order into something worse—she’d probably come back in her dratted maid’s uniform. And he didn’t want her to change. She was a beautiful, vibrant flower, and she was on
his
arm. Even though she would the center of attention for every eligible bachelor in the place—and his heart would suffer for it—she deserved the attention. She had been locked up for too long.
Lexie needed to discover how beautiful she was.
Clearing his throat, he extended his hand to hers. “You’re, uh...You’re lovely.”