The Wicked Marquess Read Online Free Page B

propensities of hydrangea. My sensibilities are not particularly refined, or so I am forever being told. I suppose you expect me to thank you for rescuing me again.”
    “Not at all. In point of fact, I was rescuing that unwitting jackanapes from your very sharp hatpin. Where were you going, little one? When your horse took fright?”
    “When you frightened my horse, you mean.” Her expression was unfriendly. “I must ask you not to tell anyone about that.”
    Well she might. London was a hotbed of gossip, and the most avid gabble-grinders could be found among the ton . “First you must tell me where you were going, and why.”
    “I would be scolded for vulgarity, were I as inquisitive as you. Oh, very well! I refuse to be sold off to the highest bidder, no matter what my uncle says.”
    Benedict’s amusement fled. “Your uncle means to sell you?”
    “Yes. No! My uncle demands that I must marry, but I don’t mean to marry anyone. It’s the same thing, is it not?”
    She didn’t mean to marry? Benedict sympathized.
    Miranda glanced up at him. “Are you married, sir?”
    Benedict admitted he was not.
    “Do you wish to marry?”
    “Well, no.”
    “I daresay everyone is plaguing you about it. They certainly are plaguing me! As for our previous encounter— If I damaged you, sir, it was your own fault. You would not let me go.”
    Miss Russell seemed unaware that she should not be strolling with him in the moonlight. The child was a danger to herself, as well as to any hapless gentleman who stumbled across her path. “Yet here you are, again alone with me. Has no one ever told you that venturing into dark gardens is one of the many things a young lady should avoid, lest her escort try to steal a kiss?”
     “I am in a dark corner of the garden with you, and you aren’t overwhelmed with a desire to kiss me.” Came a pregnant pause, and then Miranda added, “Are you, sir?”
     She practically invited him to accost her. So that she might damage him further, no doubt. Benedict touched her smooth cheek. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Miss Russell?”
    “Certainly! Lots and lots of people!” she retorted, and blushed.
    She was so very beautiful, and so very young, and he should be shot for amusing himself with her. Gently, Benedict said, “Relatives don’t count.”
    Miranda looked reproachful. He could kiss her now, and she would not try and stop him. Instead, Benedict placed her hand on his arm and led her up the pathway toward the house. “You had better go back inside before that young cawker takes it in his head to rescue you from me.”
    Miranda hesitated. “You won’t tell anyone how we met?”
    Benedict was sorely tempted to suggest Miss Russell try and persuade him to be silent.  Conscience wakened belatedly, and gave him a sharp kick.
    He stepped away from her. “Your secrets are safe with me, brat.”
     

Chapter Four
     
    Morning had dawned in Portman Square, or rather early afternoon, for that was considered morning by the ton . Sir Kenrick Symington’s family was gathered in the breakfast room. This was a cheerful chamber, with high windows and coved ceiling, polished floors and boldly painted walls. A chandelier descended from a central ornament of leaves in a swirling design.
    The small group of people seated around the semicircular table was not in accord with their peaceful surroundings. “You did what to young Cartwright?” Sir Kenrick demanded. “With a hatpin? Nonie can’t have got it right.”
    In point of fact, Nonie hadn’t got it right. Miranda had failed to acquaint her companion with the full scope of the previous evening’s adventure. “There is no need to do violence to your feelings, uncle. As I have told Nonie several times already, no great harm was done.” Miranda directed a reproachful look at that Judas, who was gloomily contemplating a gilt sugar vase. She would have preferred not to mention the episode at all, but Nonie had insisted on an explanation of her