When a Marquess Loves a Woman Read Online Free Page B

in a smirk.
    She knew that mouth intimately—the firm warm pressure of those lips, the exciting scrape of his teeth, the mesmeric skill of his tongue . . .
    Unbidden warmth simmered beneath her skin as she recalled the kiss that had ruined her life. And for five years, she’d paid a dire price for one single transgression—a regretful and demeaning marriage, the sudden deaths of her parents, and the loss of everyone she held dear.
    By comparison, returning to London to reclaim her life as a respected widow should have been simple. And it would have been if Max hadn’t interfered.
    She’d been set on purchasing the townhouse where she had once lived with her parents on this very street, willing to pay any amount to the current owners in order to do so. To her, it was the ideal place to begin anew. Then, as luck would have it, that very house had been up for sale after having been abandoned. It was as if the Fates were guiding her home. Or at least it had felt that way until Max had bought the property out from under her nose.
    Why did he have to hinder her fresh start?
    Of course, she knew the answer. She’d wounded his ego years ago, and her return only served as a reminder. He didn’t want her living four doors down from his mother—or likely within forty miles of him.
    But that decision wasn’t his to make, or anyone else’s. After the deaths of her parents, she’d asked Lord Granworth to purchase their townhouse for her, but the tyrant had refused, just as he had with any request she made.
    And now, Juliet wasn’t about to be cowed or manipulated by another man. Not for as long as she lived.
    â€œAnd speaking of marriage,” Marjorie interjected, her tone a touch gayer than usual, “Wolford’s wedding to Miss Pimm was quite beautiful, even for a last-minute affair. Wouldn’t you agree, Zinnia?”
    â€œWith the pear trees in bloom just beyond the chapel, I daresay I’ve never attended a prettier ceremony.” Zinnia looked to Juliet, as if in commiseration. “A grove of lilacs would also make a fine setting. They’ll be in full bloom by week’s end.”
    Juliet’s thoughts were in a muddle at the moment—all thanks to Max—and she was trying to guess how they’d landed on the topic of the Earl of Wolford’s recent marriage to Adeline Pimm.
    Though perhaps, she reasoned, they were merely speaking of weddings in general because of an upcoming event. “I don’t recall receiving an invitation to a wedding ball or breakfast this week. Have I forgotten one?”
    â€œPerhaps Lady Granworth requires a meadow of forget-me-nots to aid her memory,” Max quipped as he took the chair beside hers, when there were two others open that were a more comfortable distance away. This time, he lifted his own glass of whiskey in a salute but only after a pointed glance down to the one still untouched, for the most part, in her grasp. Then he directed his attention to the others. “Though, to be honest, I do not recall who is to be married this week either.”
    â€œNo one that I know of,” Marjorie answered with a careless wave of her hand. “I simply remarked on your friend’s wedding. And since you are in search of a bride, perhaps you would give thought to asking Wolford for the use of his chapel.”
    Max shifted in his chair, no longer looking quite so smug. “Right. Well, since I have not yet begun to court any debutante, the pear trees will have lost their petals by the time I have decided on one.”
    â€œBut you’ll want to decide soon,” Marjorie said, setting her glass on the table. “We are surely past mid-Season.”
    Unable to resist a chance to needle Max, Juliet chimed in. “Never fear. You have weeks before the peonies bloom. Though you should be warned of the insects—those blossoms are crawling with ants. Hardly the most romantic of flowers.” She