The Bride's Seduction. Louise Allen

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       Chapter Six

      Justin looked into the wide, troubled grey eyes and cursed inwardly. Cursed the Winslows for distressing Mari so much, cursed himself for the urge that filled him to take her in his arms again and kiss that soft mouth with its parted lips. No need to wonder now whether she was capable of passion—he could read it, all unawakened in that innocent gaze and the trembling of her body as he had held it against his.

      Her mother had set out for her the fate that awaited the surplus, unwed daughter, confident it would propel her into his arms when he proposed to her. She had not realised, he imagined, just how much she would hurt Marina and just how rapidly she would find herself in that embrace.

      And now was most definitely not the moment to make a proposal. She would imagine he was doing it out of pity and he had no desire that she accept him out of desperation. A lifetime was rather too long for regrets.

      ‘I am not going to cry.’ She said it with a determination that tugged at his heart, sitting upright on the seat and jamming her bonnet on her head with scant regard for her curls.

      ‘Are you not? You may, if you like. I have a large and clean handkerchief somewhere.’

      That produced a choke of amusement and a quizzical look. It seemed the moment of physical awareness had passed. ‘Really? Charlie hated it if Lizzie or I cried when we were younger. Lizzie still does when she cannot get her own way and Charlie positively runs out of the room. Mama says that all men are the same.’

      Justin grinned and picked up the reins. Smoke swivelled an ear back and then dropped his head again when no command to move came. ‘I had always assumed that it would be an excellent opportunity to flirt—beautiful young lady weeps daintily into a lace-edged handkerchief, I make soothing noises...’

      This time Marina laughed out loud. ‘I suspect there are very few young ladies who can produce just one or two dainty tears. I certainly cannot. I end up with red eyes and a red nose—no wonder Charlie runs away.’

      ‘You are very brave to reveal these horrid details.’ Justin shook the reins and Smoke woke up and began to walk round the edge of the grove.

      ‘Why not? You are my friend and will not be so unkind as to tease me about it.’

      ‘No, I would not tease you.’ He hesitated, uncertain as to how much he dare hint. ‘Do not be too cast down by what your mother said; things may change, other opportunities may open up.’

      ‘You are kind to try to cheer me up, but I will do better to resign myself, I think.’ She gave a little shiver and he fought back the urge to put his arm around her again. ‘But I cannot spoil this drive. May I take the reins—and will you let me trot today?’

      Days passed and nothing more was said about Great-aunt Maria and the Bath scheme for her future. Marina let herself hope that perhaps the old lady had rejected the idea, or that Mama had thought better of it, but then, after two weeks, Charlie mentioned it over Sunday luncheon and the hope withered.

      Resolutely Marina pushed the thought to the back of her mind, feeling like a prisoner who has a few weeks of freedom before being sent to their cell. It would be wicked to spoil these last days of liberty anticipating what was to come.

      She saw Justin almost every day for a driving lesson and she could now take the paths of Green Park at a spanking trot, turning corners with confidence and even passing through narrow openings without having to close her eyes in anticipation of the crash.

      Occasionally he dined with them in Cavendish Square, but Marina found herself resenting the formality this imposed on their conversation. The strange feelings of confusion and awareness she had felt when he had held her that day had turned into something different, an ache when she thought about him, an excitement when she saw him, a warm glow of happiness when they were together. It was certainly very different, being friends with a gentleman.

      On a Tuesday towards the end of the month, Justin apologised for not being able to take her driving the next afternoon. ‘I am sorry, but I promised to try out a hunter a friend wishes to sell and the only time we could arrange it is tomorrow afternoon.’

      ‘Of course, you must do just as you wish,’ Marina protested. ‘It is so good of you to let me drive so often.’

      ‘Not at all. Would you care to drive in Hyde Park the day after?’

      ‘Yes, please—if you think I would not disgrace you.’ She turned a teasing smile on him. ‘Are you sure your credit will stand you being seen as a passenger in a gig being driven by a mere female?’

      ‘It certainly will not,’ Justin replied so seriously that for a moment she thought he was in earnest. ‘Which is why I thought you might like to drive a phaeton.’

      ‘Truly? A high-perch phaeton and your bays?’

      ‘No! A low-perch and a pair of very steady roans. But still smart enough for you to cut a dash if you wish to let your friends know where you will be at three o’clock.’