The Reluctant Marquess by Maggi Andersen Page B

daresay he wished to return to continue his game of cards. So kind of him to escort me home when I became fatigued,” she said airily. Her heart sank, and she wanted to cry. There was only one explanation for him leaving the house at that hour. Robert had a mistress, she should have expected it, but it struck her to the core.
    It was her fault. She was the one who had refused him his rights. What could she do?
    “I shall go alone to the park, Brigitte,” she said to the maid. It hurt her that Brigitte appeared to relish telling her about Robert’s nocturnal habits.
    “But my lady, should you go alone?”
    “I prefer you to run an errand for me. I need some more of that scented bath soap.”
    She turned her back on Brigitte’s moue of disappointment.
    Robert cantered to the end of Rotten Row. He dismounted to await a friend who’d been delayed in conversation. He had not enjoyed his ride, for the previous night left a bad taste in his mouth. As soon as he walked into his mistress’s chambers, Anastasia had been in a pet at the lateness of the hour. He found he didn’t want to make love to her. Somehow, her slim body failed to provoke passion in him. Perhaps he was tired. He had had to placate her with a promise of a new bracelet and an evening at the music hall, something she delighted in but he found tedious.
    Walking his horse, he watched a prettily dressed woman stroll along the path through the elms towards him. Her lacy white parasol shielded her face from the sun and from his view.
    He waited, wishing her to raise it so he might admire her. Her gown was undoubtedly expensive yet she walked with no maid to accompany her. When she drew close, she pushed back her parasol, and her lips curved into a smile. Her eyes were a warm green.
    Charity! Her loveliness and sweetness hit him like a blow from a boxing bout, causing a multitude of emotions to surge through him, as frustrated desire and the fear of being hurt mingled with the need to protect her.
    “Good morning, Robert. I do hope you enjoyed your ride.”
    Her flowery bonnet perched at an enchanting angle on her head and a honeyed curl rested on a shoulder.
    He dismounted and kissed Charity’s fingers encased in lilac kid. “What on earth are you doing walking about the park without your maid?”
    Her smile faltered. “I missed you at breakfast. I thought I’d come and see you. I sent her on an errand. I don’t see why Brigitte must accompany me everywhere.”
    He ground his teeth wishing she wouldn’t look at him like that. It made him feel shabby, even though she had no knowledge of how he spent last night. “Weren’t you taught anything about the ways of the world in that country village you grew up in?” He knew his anger was unreasonable, and could almost see his uncle shaking his head in disappointment.
    But there were pickpockets and loose screws to be found everywhere. A woman as deuced appealing as Charity wasn’t safe.
    His horse whinnied at the approach of his friend, Southmore. “Damnation! It’s dangerous for you to go rambling about town on your own,” he said heatedly. “I must insist you do not do it again.”
    Robert turned to the man waiting politely, mounted on his grey, silently witnessing what transpired between them.
    “Lord Southmore, I’d like you to meet my wife Lady St Malin.” Charity curtseyed, looking flushed.
    Robert watched Southmore remove his tall hat and smile sympathetically at his wife, damn his eyes, as he bowed from the saddle. “Lady St Malin. I’ve looked forward to meeting you. Do you enjoy London?”
    She made an unconsciously enticing moue with her full lips, and Robert was struck by how natural and unaffected she was compared to the women he knew. “It’s busy and noisy. People are not on the whole as friendly as in the country. But despite its failings, I find it entertaining.” She flicked a reproving glance in Robert’s direction.
    “I am totally in agreement with you. I hope we can have a