I Choose You, My Lord by Monica La Porta

Author:Monica La Porta [La Porta, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monica La Porta

Chapter 30

Esme discreetly looked over her shoulder to make sure Delphine had entered the house before turning her attention back to Camber.

“What is your favorite season?” the marquis asked.

“Not winter.” Esme couldn’t stop thinking about her newly acquired friend. Delphine had tried to hide her stricken expression when they had met on the path a moment earlier, but she hadn’t fooled Esme.

Camber chuckled. “May I enquire about your favorite color next?”

“Yellow.”

Tilting his head to the side, he regaled her with a bright smile. “Yellow?”

“Did you expect pink?”

“Perish the thought that a great original like Lady Esmeralda would be so predictable.”

Esme raised her brow. “Is there a compliment hidden somewhere in that flowery sentence?”

“My lady.” Camber brought his hand to his chest. “You will hear nothing but compliments coming from this humble mouth of mine.”

“My lord.” She cocked her head. “If there is anything humble about you, the woman who will make such a tremendous discovery isn’t born yet.”

The marquis’s sonorous laughter echoed in the silent landscape. “Mark my words,” he said, in between laughter, “you might be that woman.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “And what about your favorite season and color, my lord?”

“Men aren’t usually asked those sorts of questions,” he commented, frowning.

“Therefore, you don’t know the answer.” Esme batted her lashes, exaggerating the effect. She would have fanned herself to complete the picture of the shrewd debutante, but it was too cold to attempt such a feat.

Her antics made Camber laugh even harder. “Upon much cogitation, I daresay I like spring and the color purple.”

“See,” she said, “it isn’t that difficult.”

They had reached the greenhouse, and all her bravado left her at once. Camber brought them to a halt in front of the door, his hand poised on the latch. The silent question hung in the cold air. The marquis applied gentle pressure to her arm to turn her and face him. His eyes locked with hers. After what seemed an eternity, she subtly lowered her chin to signal her assent.

Inside the structure, the temperature was several degrees warmer and the air redolent with the scents of exotic flowers. Colorful blooms and verdant greenery complemented a structure meant to dazzle. And dazzled Esme was. Not from the architectural elements showing the great wealth and good taste of the Countess of Merriweather. As extravagantly beautiful as the structure happened to be, it was the marquis who kept her firmly enthralled. And maybe not even Camber himself, but rather the situation in which she found herself.

When her betrothed had proposed the stroll in the gardens, Esme knew his intentions. In the spirit of giving her impending marriage an opportunity to succeed, she had accepted Camber’s invitation to go outside, where they would be unchaperoned.

They walked farther inside the greenhouse, reaching a marble bench under a domed canopy made of intertwined vines.

Camber promptly produced an immaculate handkerchief he unfolded and placed on the frigid marble. “It isn’t a blanket,” he said apologetically, lowering her to the seat.

Esme thanked him rather stiffly.

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