Well past the age when you might expect to grab a husband, hmm?”
“Not at all.”
“Come now, Margaret. I may call you Margaret, mayn’t I? I believe we’re sufficiently acquainted to dispense with the proprieties.”
His left hand landed on her bodice.
She grabbed his wrist. Somehow he had managed to shed his gloves. “No, we are definitely not sufficiently acquainted.”
“You are just suffering from maidenly fears, sweetings.” His fingers brushed across the tops of her breasts.
“Lord Bennington!”
“Call me ‘Bennie.’ All my intimates do.”
“I couldn’t possibly. Remove your hand this instant.”
He moved it to her shoulder.
“I’m thirty-six. It’s time I thought of getting an heir. Your family is respectable. Your father is connected to the Earl of Landsdowne, isn’t he?”
“He is Lord Landsdowne’s uncle, but the earl doesn’t concern himself with us.” She looked through the leaves toward the beckoning light. Did she see movement in the shadows? She hoped someone was nearby to assist her if necessary.
The viscount’s fingers stroked her skin. She clenched her teeth.
“But your sister is the Marchioness of Knightsdale. I’m certain she concerns herself with you. Didn’t she raise you after your mother died?”
“Yes. The ballroom, my lord. It is past time we returned.” His palm was unpleasantly damp.
“And the Countess of Westbrooke is your good friend.”
“Yes, yes.” Had the man made a study of all her connections? “The ballroom, Lord Bennington. Please escort me back to the ballroom. If you wish to discuss my family further, we can do so there.”
“And both the earl and the marquis are close friends of the Duke of Alvord—in fact, the earl is the duchess’s cousin.”
“Lord Bennington…”
“I would like to be connected to all that power and wealth. Any one of those men could finance an expedition to the jungles of South America without a second thought.”
“Jungles? South America?” Had the man lost his mind?
“I want to send my own men out to find exotic plants, Margaret.”
“I see.” She would like to do that, too, but it was clearly impossible. “An expedition such as you are describing is very expensive. Mr. Parker-Roth was telling me—”
Bennington’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
“My lord, you are hurting me.”
“You know Parker-Roth?”
“Slightly. I met him at a house party last year.” Meg shifted position. “Please, Lord Bennington, you will leave a bruise.”
He loosened his fingers. “My pardon. I just cannot abide the man. He’s a neighbor of mine. Spends most of his time in the country.”
“Ah.” So that was why she hadn’t seen him in Town—not that she’d been looking, of course.
“It’s disgusting the way everyone fawns over him when he does attend a Horticultural Society meeting. He has plenty of money—he sends his brother all over the globe looking for plant specimens.”
“I see.” Lord Bennington’s hold on her had slackened. Would he let her go now? “Shall we return to the ballroom, my lord?”
“But you haven’t given me your answer.”
“Answer?”
“Yes. Will you marry me or not?”
Lord Bennington was frowning at her, all signs of passion gone. She found it quite easy to make up her mind.
“I am very sorry, my lord. I am fully aware of the great honor you do me, but I believe we would not suit.”
The frown deepened.
“What do you mean, we would not suit?”
“We would not…suit.” What did the man want her to say? That she thought he was a hideous oaf and she had made a huge error in judgment even speaking to him?
“You brought me into this dark garden and yet you are turning down my offer?”
“I really did not expect an offer of marriage, my lord.”
“What kind of an offer did you expect? Are you looking for a slip on the shoulder, then?”
“My lord! Of course not. I was not expecting an offer now. I mean, I was not expecting an offer of anything—any offer at all. I just wished to take a turn about the garden.”
“Miss Peterson, I was not born yesterday. You lured me into this darkened corner for a reason. Was it just to steal a kiss? Are you that starved for amorous activity?”
“Lord Bennington!” Had the man actually said “amorous” with regard to her?
“You are not going to use me to satisfy your urges.”
Urges! Her only urge was to get back to the light and sanity of the ballroom.
The viscount was becoming markedly agitated. She really had not anticipated such a reaction. The other men had been completely amiable when she’d suggested they go back inside. Lord Bennington was almost hissing.
“You chose to come into the garden with me, so now you’ll pay the price. When I’m finished with you, your wealthy relatives and friends will beg me to wed you.”
“Lord Bennington, be reasonable. You are a gentleman.”
“I am a man, Miss Peterson. Surely your sister has warned you it is highly unwise to be alone with a man in an isolated place.”
Emma had warned her of many things—perhaps she should have listened to this particular lecture. At least she would be spared Emma’s jobation this time—her sister was safely ensconced in Kent with her children. If she could just get away from Bennington, all would be well. She had learned her lesson. She would not be visiting any shadowy shrubbery again.
The viscount stuck his hands into her coiffure, sending pins flying everywhere. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders.
“Lord Bennington, stop immediately!”
He grunted. He had his hands on her bodice again. She jerked her knee up, but she missed her target.
“Playing that game, are you?”
“My lord, I will scream.”
