she had no intention of entering a marriage of convenience with any man, no matter how convenient it might be for Theo that she did so.
With Maura’s groan of dismay echoing in her ears Jemma impulsively darted to the door. Within a moment she was down the stairs and out in to the street, heedless of Manwell’s dropping jaw as she sailed past him in a whirl of chestnut curls and swirling blue skirts.
Once on the pavement she squinted against the sunlight. She pivoted on the spot, hurried many yards one way, all the time looking here and there, then retraced her steps and rushed in the opposite direction. She paused on the corner and looked about. Of Marcus there was no sign, and he would be easy to distinguish amongst the strollers out enjoying the spring sunshine. With his lofty height and devilishly dark good looks he was an outstanding specimen of a man.
* * *
Marcus watched from the opposite side of the street as Jemma searched for him. And he knew it was he she was after as she flew hither and thither. She was retracing her steps along the pavement towards the Wyndhams’ house and he wondered if she would mount the steps and go in again. His mouth twisted cynically as he wondered whether Theo Wyndham had, as a last resort, sent her out to try to lure him back. She passed the Wyndhams’ door and kept to a slow pace, her head lowered as though she was both disappointed and distracted by her own thoughts. His narrowed silver eyes kept her in their sights as he moved a little away from the parasol his mistress seemed intent on twirling over them both whilst they stood beside her barouche.
‘Will you come with me to the theatre tonight?’ Lady Pauline Vaux repeated. A delightful dimple appeared in one cheek as she tilted her head to give Marcus a persuasive smile.
‘I’m afraid I can’t. My uncle is now mortally ill. I await some bad news from his physician,’ Marcus told her.
He made to hand her back into her transport, but it seemed Lady Vaux was not yet ready to say farewell to her lover. She murmured her sympathy at knowing that the Earl of Gresham was on his deathbed. The fact that Marcus was soon to become an aristocrat, and a good deal richer, was neither here nor there to her. He’d made it plain at the start of the liaison that he’d never marry her, so there was no status to share, no future son to groom to be worthy of his earldom. As for the rest, Marcus was already rich and powerful enough to satisfy any young impoverished widow’s yen for a pampered life.
Earlier that afternoon Pauline had been visiting her friend, Cressida Forbes, who lived on the edge of Hanover Square. Having quit her friend’s company after a delightful episode taking tea and sharing gossip, she’d travelled just yards when she’d clapped eyes on Marcus striding along and instructed her driver to stop the barouche. Having beckoned him, but failed to persuade him to get up with her, she’d alighted to delay his departure and try to charm him in to escorting her to the theatre. But he’d seemed too stern and preoccupied to talk or tell her much about his reason for being in the vicinity. Once or twice Pauline had glanced about to see what had taken his interest for it seemed something was causing him to stare off in to the distance.
‘I shall come and see you soon,’ Marcus cut in to Pauline’s musing, making her dimple her thanks at him. Taking his mistress’s arm, he guided her firmly towards the barouche and helped her alight. He raised a hand in salute as the conveyance pulled off steadily into the traffic. Then his eyes swooped to the willowy female figure, some way off now. Crossing the road, he started after her.
Chapter Three
A strange sensation prickled at Jemma’s nape, making her absently scuff her fingers over it. She half-turned, sure she was being fanciful in imagining someone was following her. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a tall male figure, darkly dressed. Her heart vaulted to her throat, and she came to a spontaneous halt before twisting fully about. In petrified silence she stared at Marcus Speer as he continued his lazy powerful pursuit of her. Instinctively she wheeled about and hastened on. The next instant she was inwardly berating herself for having so obviously betrayed her fright at the sight of him. Beneath her aching ribs her heart continued thudding erratically, making her softly suck in air. Slowly she brought some order to the chaotic thoughts whirling in her head, and her pace became less frantic.
A short while ago she had wanted to find him, had flown from Theo’s house like a wild hoyden to look for him in the street. Now he was deliberately…temptingly…within reach. An awful suspicion occurred to her that he might have observed her fruitless efforts to ambush him in Hanover Square. He was close enough for her to have read his expression. It was mortifying to acknowledge that he’d every right to that slanting, sardonic smile. By touting her about to any fellow who’d take her as a wife, Theo had made her seem weak and risible. She’d not helped disperse that perception by cravenly turning tail not once but twice this afternoon in Marcus Speer’s presence.
He knew she wanted to speak to him so he was presenting himself to her on a plate, taunting her to swallow her pride and approach him. Indignation ignited fire in her veins, strengthening her composure. She put up her chin, took a deep breath and, confident her blush was fading, pivoted about. Purposely she marched towards him and halted just in front of him. She flicked up her face to boldly meet his gaze. Immediately her eyes darted aside. She hadn’t been prepared for the overwhelming effect being this close to him had on her. Silver eyes that looked forbidding yet achingly familiar had been ruthlessly watching her mouth making the first words she had uttered to him in almost five years emerge in a strangled gasp.
‘Why are you following me?’
‘Why were you looking for me?’
‘I was not!’ The spontaneous lie sent a fresh burst of betraying blood to stain her skin, and her eyes to swerve back to glance on his.
‘Were you not?’ he drily enquired.
‘You were just at my cousin’s house,’ she rushed on, hoping to cover her confusion.
‘So were you.’
‘Surely you arrived in a carriage? Why are you not in it instead of dogging my footsteps?’ She recalled attack was said to be the best form of defence and certainly it seemed to be boosting her confidence and courage.
‘As you were spying on me and saw me arrive, Miss Bailey, I suspect you know I arrived on foot in Hanover Square.’
‘I was not spying on you, sir. And I certainly was not awaiting your arrival,’ Jemma fumed in righteous anger.
‘What a happy coincidence then that we both were within your guardian’s house when I told him, amongst other things, that I won’t marry you,’ Marcus drawled. ‘I imagine he passed that message on, and that’s why you were outside searching for me to try to change my mind.’ An insolent grey gaze slipped over her lush figure. ‘I’m intrigued to know how you intended to persuade me to do that.’ His voice was sultry with amusement, his eyes darkening dangerously behind long, concealing lashes. ‘If you use the right approach, Miss Bailey, I might hear you out.’
A fiery blush raged from Jemma’s throat to her hairline. She’d winced on hearing his scornful rejection; now she visibly flinched for a second time. How dare he mock her so! Any thoughts she’d had of offering her apologies for Theo’s despicable behaviour were expelled from her mind. This hateful brute now owed her an apology for speaking to her, looking at her as though she were some dockside wench!
‘I think I must put you straight on several things, sir,’ she finally blurted in a suffocated voice. Her fingers formed fists and were held rigidly quivering at her sides. ‘Firstly, indeed it was a coincidence that we were at the Wyndhams together, but a happy one…never! Secondly, I’ve
