Slightly Dangerous (Bedwyn Saga, #6)

by Mary Balogh

“But my affections are not engaged,” she said. “There is a way some people have,” he said, “of seeming to answer a question without actually doing so at all.”

It was a rare challenge she presented to him. He could not dangle either his title or his enormous wealth before her, and he did not know how to woo a woman simply as a man.

If there were practicality on the one hand and a dream on the other, why choose practicality? Just because it was sensible? Why not the dream? Why not live dangerously?

And was this really he, Wulfric Bedwyn, who was having these thoughts and dreaming of rebelling against all that had ordered his life for more than twenty years? And living dangerously? But he had invited her here, had he not?

He feared that he was a little more than just in love with Christine Derrick. He very much feared that she had be...

“Your eyes are like ice chips again,” she said. “The eyes are usually the weak point in any disguise, you know, because the wearer has to see out into the world and must leave them exposed no matter how thoroughly he covers up every other part of his person. But your eyes are your disguise, or at least a large part of it. I cannot see even a glimmering of your soul by gazing into them.”

“Perhaps, Mrs. Derrick,” he said, “I should wear my heart on my sleeve, and you would not be obliged to look into my eyes at all. But I forget—I have no heart.”

“By God,” he said, “we are quarreling. And though you are sitting there half smiling and talking softly and I am my usual icy self, we will be drawing attention to ourselves if we continue. We will continue, but not here and not now.

“Wulfric loves very deeply,” she said. “He just needs someone who can help him show it openly.”

There is only one thing more alarming than matchmaking Bedwyns and that is squabbling Bedwyns. Fists will be flying next, and there are two or three ladies present.” “Two or—” Freyja jumped to her feet, her eyes sparking.

love winter landscapes too,” she said. “They have all the appearance of death but all the potential for resurrection. One understands the full power and mystery and glory of life during winter. And then comes spring. Oh, how I adore springtime! I cannot imagine your park looking lovelier than it does now.”

He was standing at the top of the steps, looking at her more than at the view, she could see when she turned her attention to him. His eyes were narrowed against the sunlight.

“It is all quite magnificent,” she said, twirling slowly once about. “Yes,” he said, “it is.” But it was at her he looked.

And he was magnificent too, s...

But how wonderfully exhilarating it had been! She also realized as she arrived there that the families with children were approaching from among the trees—and most of them had witnessed her undignified descent of the hill. She laughed and turned to watch the Duke of Bewcastle descend with the utmost dignity, as if he were strolling on Bond Street.

She was not quite sure what he did with her arm then. But whatever it was, she found herself the next moment with her back against a tree trunk and the Duke of Bewcastle standing in front of her, looking grim and very dangerous indeed.

“I will tell you anyway,” he said, his eyes blazing with a curious cold light that she recognized as anger. “I believe you were put on this earth to bring light to your fellow mortals, Mrs. Derrick. And I believe you should stop assuming that you know me and understand me.”

“I hate it when you do that. Just when I think we are launched on a satisfactory quarrel, you take the wind out of my sails. What on earth do you mean by it?”

“You do things that are impulsive and unladylike and clumsy and even vulgar,” he said. “You chatter too much, you laugh too much, and you sparkle in a manner that is in no way refined. And yet you attract almost everyone within your aura as a flame does a moth. You think people despise you and scorn you and shun you, when the opposite is true. You have told me that you did not take well with the ton. I do not believe it. I believe you took very well indeed—or would have done if you had been allowed to. I do not know who put the idea into your head that you did not, but that person was wrong.

Perhaps he could not bear the power of your light, or perhaps he could not bear to share it with his world. Perhaps he mistook the light for flirtation.

I was digesting the wonder of the fact that Lindsey Hall was alive with the presence of children again, most of them the offspring of my own brothers and sisters—and then you came hurtling down the hill into my arms. You will not dare tell...

At the same time she felt a certain elation—she had made him angry! He was cl...

“I believe I could stand the power of your light, Mrs. Derrick. My own identity would not be diminished by it. And yours would not be diminished by my power.

You once told me I would sap your joy, but you belittle yourself if you truly believe it. Joy can be sapped only by weakness. I am not, I believe, a weak man.”

“And you, Mrs. Derrick,” he said, taking a few steps away from her and then turning to look back at her, “know no other way of fighting your attraction to me than to convince yourself that you know me through and through. Have you decided, then, that I wear no mask after all? Or that you were right last evening when you said that perhaps I was simply the Duke of Bewcastle to the core?”

Fury blossomed in her. And it focused upon one object.

She snatched the quizzing glass out of his nerveless hand, yanked the black ribbon off over his head, and sent the glass flying with one furious flick of her wrist.

You will not be able to raise your quizzing glass, will you? Though I daresay you have an endless supply of them.” “Eight,” he said curtly. “I have eight of them—or will have when that particular one is back in my keeping.” And he strode away from her.

“Oh, do be careful!” Christine cried, and set both hands over her mouth. “I always am.” He unhooked the ribbon, dropped it and the glass for her to catch, and sat there looking down at her. “Always. Except, it would seem, where you are concerned.

If I were careful, I would stay here, just where I am, until you had returned safely to Gloucestershire. If I had been careful, I would have avoided you at Schofield Park as I would avoid the plague. Earlier this year I would have shut myself up inside Bedwyn House after Miss Magnus’s wedding until I was sure you were at least fifty miles on your journey home.

Indeed, you are the very antithesis of the woman I would have chosen.”

“I find myself constantly infuriated and enchanted by you,” he told her. “Often both at the same time. How can one explain that?”

“I do not want to enchant you,” she cried. “I do not even want to infuriate you. I do not want to be anything to you. You have no business having feelings for a woman you so obviously despise. Imagine how much more you would come to despise me if you were forced to live with me for the rest of your life.”

I believe you were put on this earth to bring light to your fellow mortals, Mrs. Derrick. Would she ever forget his saying those words? Such strange words. They made her want to weep.

He made her want to weep, nasty, horrid man.

Wulfric felt shaken by the fact that he had lost his temper with her. It was something he never did. But then, falling in love was something he never did either—until now.

And looking so vibrantly beautiful that he had almost scooped her right up into his arms at the bottom of the hill and covered her face with kisses.

He felt disappointed. He had wanted, he realized, to be her friend. He had wanted her to be his.

He had just broken the rules. He had entered the emotional life of another person. And—God help him—he was very much emotionally involved with her.

“Dear Wulfric,” Rachel said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “He must be in love if he has been goaded into being so dreadfully discourteous.”

I fear I might be left behind on the ground on the other side.” “I promise,” he said, “to come back for you.” She laughed, and he looked across at her with his steady, inscrutable eyes.

He had not been cold then. Ah, how provokingly complex he was.

was, she realized, trying to open up to her as she had to him yesterday. He was trying to establish some sort of relationship with her. He was, in a sense, wooing her.

She wanted her safe life back. More than that, she wanted it back without regrets, without any doubts that it was what she chose with both her head and her heart.

set about recapturing her long-held ambition to be an amused spectator of humanity rather than a participant in its follies.

She had slept with his quizzing glass beside her pillow—the duke’s, that was—so that she would not forget to return it to him this morning. She could feel it now, rather heavy inside the pocket of her carriage dress.

His siblings were matchmaking, by thunder.

Your loyalty is admirable, but the woman is clearly a strumpet.”

have never been quite sure what love is, but I certainly know what love is not. Love does not destroy the beloved or cause her endless suffering.”

Normally she would have laughed back at him, since they both knew he had just told a barefaced lie. But her heart was pattering in her chest and she felt decidedly breathless again. And she was very aware of the marchioness’s sudden scrutiny.