Page 40 of The Lady's Forbidden Marquess
“I’m not as ignorant as everyone thinks.”She sighed.“It was when you and Anna returned to the box after our visit to the foyer between acts.”
“Continue.”
“Lord Hawthorne went to find me a refreshment, and when he didn’t return for a few minutes, I… got irritated, actually.”She gave a small grin as her brother rolled his eyes.“And I searched for him.I noted he was in conversation with a lady, whom I found out was Lady Whitewood.”Pere’s cheeks warmed at the admission, the thrill of intervening still fresh—the way Gabriel’s eyes had lit with relief and something warmer when she appeared at his side.
Anna’s brows rose, and she glanced to Henley before speaking one word.“Continue.”
“And I was going to abandon all thoughts of something to drink when I noted the way he attempted to leave the conversation, and she was quite insistent, bold even.Lord Hawthorne isn’t a difficult man to read, and so when she halted his departure a second or third time—I lost track—I intervened.”
Henley’s brows rose.“And how, dear sister, did you intervene and save the rake from his prey?”
“It was the other way around, believe me.”Pere gave a delicate shiver.“I merely told him you’d returned to the box and wished for me to convey the message.”
“And what happened next?”
“Lady Whitewood sneered a little, gave me a once-over, and then left.I swear Lord Hawthorne was about to bodily remove her from his person; she kept grabbing his arm.Not abruptly, but insistently.It was strange.He thanked me for my intervention, and we returned to the box directly.”Pere glanced down to her hands, smoothing her skirt as she intentionally omitted the part where she thought she saw their mother.
She was sure… but still questioned it.There was no reason to mention it without proof.And even if her mother was there, what did that signify?Nothing.Though she did appear to be in the company of a gentleman; it could be a myriad of possibilities with valid reasons.The uncertainty gnawed at her, but today’s conversation was fraught enough without adding that shadow.
“I see.”
“You’ve said that several times.What exactly do you see?”Pere asked, her tone irritable.
Her sarcasm masked the rising frustration, a defense against the fear that the ton’s whispers could unravel the fragile connection she felt budding with Lord Hawthorne.
“I think you made your first enemy, dear sister.I’d place a bet in White’s that Lady Whitewood is who made the rumor.”
“Whyever for?That makes no sense,” Pere all but grumbled.
“Actually, love, it does.”Lady Anna stepped forward.“You hindered her from what she wanted, and often, women of that caliber do not appreciate being outmaneuvered by a young and lovely debutante who clearly has a friendship with Lord Hawthorne.”Anna’s words were kind but pointed, her hand reaching out to squeeze Pere’s, a gesture of solidarity that eased the sting slightly.
Pere considered the words.“We are friends, I suppose,” she answered, but in truth, she had begun to consider him more than merely a friend.Though that was certainly where it started.
Odd that—friends with a rake.
Then, like a gearbox clicking into place, her thoughts aligned with startling clarity.The puzzle pieces she had been turning over in her mind since the season began—the quest to find a rake capable of true reform, one whose passion could burn fierce enough to forsake all others—suddenly formed a picture.Lord Hawthorne.It was he, with his layered charm and hidden vulnerabilities, who fit the mold she had unknowingly sought.
Why him?The evidence was there, woven through their interactions like threads in a tapestry.At the Nyman rout, he had sought her out not with his usual rakish flair but with a tentative smile, one that spoke of genuine hope rather than conquest.
“Thank you for noticing,” he had whispered as they parted, a raw admission that pierced her defenses.
And at Drury Lane, oh, at the theater—his hand over hers in the dim glow of the gaslights, fingers lacing with a tentativeness that belied his reputation.It was no mere flirtation; his touch had trembled slightly, a vulnerability he rarely showed, as if trusting her with a piece of himself he guarded fiercely.Even his dismissal of Lady Whitewood, polite yet resolute, echoed the man who valued honesty over easy dalliances—the same man who flinched at her words on vulnerability yet engaged her in philosophical sparring as an equal.
She thought back to the box, the way his breath had warmed her ear during the performance, his whispers not seductive but confiding, drawing her into his world.And when she had glimpsed her mother’s shadow—impossible as it seemed—he had offered to pursue the truth without hesitation, his instinct to protect her surfacing unconsciously.These were not the actions of a man seeking a superficial fling; they hinted at deeper feelings, a slow awakening mirroring her own.He was falling for her, or at least teetering on the edge, and the scandalous whispers could be the very lever she needed to draw him closer.
The ton saw a rake pursuing a conquest, but Pere saw potential—a man whose passion, once reformed, could be hers alone.The rakes-make-the-best-husbands notion, once a whimsical theory, crystallized.He was that rake.She would pursue him, subtly, using this gossip as her ally.No grand gestures yet—secret notes, lingering glances at the next ball, perhaps a private walk where she could tease out his truths.She would risk her reputation, for in his eyes, she had seen the spark of something real, something worth reforming.It was a risk worth taking.
But she would keep this resolve locked away, a secret plan shared with no one—not Henley, whose protectiveness might derail it, nor Anna, whose gentle counsel might temper her boldness.This was her quest, her heart’s gamble, and she would see it through.
“I suppose it does make sense, in a twisted way,” Pere said aloud, forcing a wry smile to mask the whirlwind in her mind.“But if Lady Whitewood is spreading tales, perhaps I should send her a thank-you note—for inadvertently pushing me toward clarity.”
Henley eyed her suspiciously.“Clarity about what?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with, brother,” Pere replied, her tone light but firm.“Just that I won’t let whispers dictate my friendships.”
Anna exchanged a glance with Henley, her expression a mix of amusement and worry, but Pere held her ground, her resolve steeling like the click of that gearbox.The game had changed, and she was ready to play.
Outside the window, a carriage rattled past, its wheels whispering secrets on the cobblestones.Pere’s fingers traced the edge of her teacup, the porcelain warm against her skin—a reminder that some fires, once kindled, could not be easily extinguished.Let the ton gossip.Let Lady Whitewood scheme.Pere had a rake to reform, and for the first time, the stakes felt deliciously, dangerously real.
