all fabrication; Mariah had stayed in her bed late yesterday morning, her head aching after suffering a restless and sleepless night.
Because she had not been able to stop thinking of Darian Hunter. Or his having kissed her.
Or remembering that she had responded.
A response that was so unprecedented, and had troubled Mariah so deeply, that she had found it impossible to sleep these past two nights for thinking of it.
A response she had since assured herself would not happen again.
Could not happen again!
So it was entirely frustrating for her to acknowledge her awareness of how arrogantly handsome Wolfingham looked this morning, dressed in a dark green superfine and buff-and-green-striped waistcoat, his linen snowy white, buff-coloured pantaloons moulded to the muscular length of his long thighs above his brown-topped black Hessians. His hair was in its usual fashionable disarray about his sharply etched features.
As she also noted the pallor to those sharply etched features and the dark shadows beneath his deep green eyes. As evidence, perhaps, that Wolfingham had not rested any better than she had herself these past two nights?
Although she doubted it was for the same reasons.
Against all the odds—her dislike of Wolfingham and the years of her unhappy marriage to Martin—for the first time in her life Mariah had found herself actually enjoying being held in a man’s arms two nights ago.
Even more surprising was the realisation of how she had responded to that depth of passion Wolfingham had ignited in her.
Her marriage to Martin had been completely without love and affection from the onset, on either side, and equally as without passion. Indeed, for the first ten years of their marriage, the two of them had spent very little time even living in the same house, Mariah languishing in the country with their daughter, while Martin preferred to spend most of the year living in London. At best they had been polite strangers to each other on the rare occasions they did meet, for the sake of their daughter, and more often than not they had ignored each other completely.
That had changed slightly seven years ago, when Mariah began to spend the Season in London, Martin necessarily having to accompany her to at least some of those social engagements. But even so, those occasions had only been for appearances’ sake, and they had continued to retain their separate bedchambers, and for the most part live their separate lives, on the occasions they were forced to reside in the same house together.
So, it had been all the more surprising to Mariah that she had not only responded to, but enjoyed being held in Darian Hunter’s arms and being kissed by him, the night of Lady Stockton’s ball. Not only an unprecedented response, but an unwanted one as well, and ensuring that Mariah was all the more determined it would not occur for a second time.
‘Did you have something in particular you wished to discuss with me when you called upon me yesterday morning, then sent a note requesting a convenient time you might call again today? Or is it as I suspected and you merely wish to add to the insults you invariably make when we meet?’
Darian’s breath left him in a hiss at this deliberate challenge; at least when he was breathing out his senses were not being invaded by Mariah Beecham’s heady and arousing perfume.
Darian had once again been aware of that perfume the moment he stepped into the salon. Indeed, he believed he now knew that unique aroma so well he would be able to pick Mariah Beecham out of a roomful of veiled and heavily robed women, just by the smell of that heady perfume alone.
Seeing Mariah again this morning, being with her again, his senses once again invaded by her beauty and aroused by that heady perfume, made a complete nonsense of his denials of yesterday to Rotherham and Sutherland, in regard to his not having the slightest interest in pursuing a relationship with Mariah Beecham.
He might not want to feel this desire for her, but he did feel it nonetheless.
‘Oh, do stop scowling, Wolfingham, for it is giving me a headache,’ Mariah snapped at his continued silence. ‘I am sure there are many women who might find all this brooding intensity attractive, but I am not one of them.’ She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘Personally, such behaviour has always filled me with a burning desire to administer a weighty smack to the cheek of the gentleman in question.’
The situation in which Darian currently found himself did not at all call for any sign of levity on his part. Consequently he did try very hard not to give in to the laughter that threatened to burst forth.
To no avail, unfortunately; his amusement was such that it refused to be denied and he found himself chuckling with husky appreciation for Mariah’s obviously heartfelt sentiments.
‘You are incorrigible, madam,’ he admonished once he had regained his breath enough to speak.
‘I, sir, merely remain unimpressed by any gentleman’s angst,’ Mariah returned disparagingly.
‘But more so when that gentleman is me,’ Wolfingham acknowledged drily.
‘Yes.’ She did not even attempt to deny it as she gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘It was you who asked if you might call upon me today, Wolfingham, so I ask once again that you state your business and then leave. I find maintaining even this level of politeness between the two of us to be taxing in the extreme.’
Darian knew he fully deserved Mariah’s lack of enjoyment of his company. He had made so many mistakes in their short acquaintance, it seemed. Too many for her to forgive him? Easily, if at all.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘I needed to speak with you again because it appears that I owe you an apology, Mariah.’
Her eyes widened in obvious surprise. ‘Indeed?’
His jaw grated he held it so tightly clenched. ‘Yes.’
‘For what, pray? You have made far too many insults, to me and about me, for me to ever be able to pick out a specific one for which you might apologise.’
Darian bristled. ‘Such as?’
‘The disgusting thoughts you so obviously held two evenings ago, with regard to my friendship with Aubrey Maystone, for one.’
Ah. Yes. Well, there was that, of course...
He shifted uncomfortably. ‘It was a natural conclusion to have come to, surely, given the circumstances of the ease of the friendship between the two of you?’
‘Only if your mind was already in the gutter, as yours so often appears to be where I am concerned!’ Her eyes flashed.
Darian could not deny that he had thought the worst of Mariah before he had even met her, hence his initial alarm regarding Anthony’s involvement with her. But in his defence Mariah Beecham’s reputation in society was such that surely, at the time, he could have formed no other opinion, in regard to Anthony’s obvious and public attentions to her.
At the time.
Darian knew differently now, of course. Which was the very reason he had been so determined to speak with Mariah these past two days. So that he might apologise and, hopefully, discuss the matter with her further.
‘It
