A Chance to Kiss the Marquess (Charmed By Chance #3)

Chapter 4

4

T he moment she stepped into the hallway leading to the library, Ann pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.

She didn’t need to see them to know they were bright red. And much as she tried to squelch any noise, a soft, keening wail slipped out from between her lips.

Miserable. She’d tried to flirt and it had been a miserable failure.

When she reached the library, she dove inside, flopping down on the ground on the far side of a low bookshelf that separated the room’s two sitting areas, putting her out of view if anyone were to peek inside.

It wasn’t as though she were hiding …

She frowned down at her outstretched legs. Oh all right, she was definitely hiding.

But not for long, and not well. If anyone stepped fully inside this room, they’d no doubt see her skirts splayed out on the ground, as unladylike as could be.

She let her head fall back against the shelf behind her. Unladylike, that was her.

And she’d made an utter fool of herself trying to get Albright to see her as something other than Franny’s little sister.

But at least she’d tried. She could tell her friends she’d made an attempt, at least. Was that enough to say she’d completed her challenge?

Likely not. It hadn’t even been much of an attempt, to be honest. A little fluttering of her lashes, which had ended in Albright frowning down at her in concern. “ Miss Ann, is something the matter ?”

He’d been so nice about it. Albright really was very kind.

She scrunched up her nose with a whimper as she recalled the look of confusion and concern in his features. “ Is there something in your eye?”

Gah! She would never live down the humiliation. Her brave attempt to be beguiling, and he’d mistaken her for an injured nitwit. Another whimper escaped, but this one was met with— “Are you all right, Miss Ann?”

She sat up straight with a gasp. Was that—? Had Albright followed her here?

But that low rumble…

It wasn’t Albright’s voice.

She remained quiet. And for a second she thought perhaps whoever it was that had spoken may have kept walking.

Nothing to see here. Merely a distraught young lady sprawled on the floor, too embarrassed to go on.

Her pulse was just starting to return to normal when the voice spoke again, and this time it was closer. Just on the other side of the low shelf. “I can see your gown, you know.”

Her heart stopped. It froze in her chest as she placed the voice. Lord Kalvin.

Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Are you…ill?” he asked.

And yes, yes it was. She’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Oh heavens, what a voice. It was low and stern, no matter what he said. It never failed to make her lungs hitch and her belly flutter with nerves.

To be fair, many men made her nervous. But no one made her as outright fearful as the Marquess of Kalvin. How Rodrick, Albright and Carver were such good friends with him was a mystery. She assumed it had to do with the fact that he was Carver’s cousin.

Being related was the reason she was so close with her cousin Dottie, so the reasoning was sound. Family trumped all. Even personality—or the lack thereof.

Or no, perhaps he had a personality and just…not a heart?

He cleared his throat, and her spiraling thoughts came to an abrupt halt. What had he asked?

Are you ill?

“Oh! No!” She winced. That startled squeak was hardly convincing. She wet her lips and tried again. “I-I am w-w-well.”

Blast! She grimaced and dropped her head into her hands. She’d made such progress this past year, but when she was particularly nervous, it came back in full force.

Oddly, she found herself angry at the Marquess for it. Not that it was his fault she had difficulty speaking, of course. But his presence here was what brought it on now so…

Yes. Maybe it was his fault.

She heard a noise, someone moving. She let out a shaky sigh of relief. Until she realized he was sitting on the floor on the other side of the shelf. “W-what…what are you doing?”

“It didn’t seem right to walk away and leave you here alone,” he said.

She said…nothing. Her mouth opened, then it closed, and still…

What was she supposed to say to that? She had no idea. Part of her wanted to protest, but would that be rude? Another part of her wanted to shout at him to let her wallow in her humiliation in peace. And that would definitely be rude.

So she sat there. In silence.

And so did he.

At one point she thought perhaps he’d left and she just hadn’t heard. That was how quiet they both were. She summoned her courage, and peeked around the corner of the shelf, and…

She gasped as she found herself staring into the cold, dark eyes of the Marquess of Kalvin.

She pulled her head back quickly, a turtle returning to its shell. But she was fairly certain the image of the tall, lanky Marquess stretched out on the floor would forever live in her memory.

He was also sitting with his back against the shelf, so in a sense they were sitting back to back…with some books separating them.

How odd.

She bit her lip, wondering how long she’d have to sit here before he tired of feigning the diligent, dutiful young lord and left her alone.

If he sat here much longer they’d both miss the meal.

She let out a soft sigh through pursed lips. It wasn’t loud, but apparently he heard it.

“It might help to talk,” he said. Not in impatience, but matter of factly.

She frowned. “Help…what?”

“I don’t know. That’s the point. I might be able to help you with whatever issue has you hiding here?—”

“I’m not hiding!”

“But I cannot assist if I don’t know what you’re running from,” he finished.

She glared at the empty fireplace ahead of her. “I’m n-not running.”

Once again her protest seemed to fall on deaf ears. Or, perhaps he was just waiting for her to say more.

She thought through what she might say and practiced it twice in her head before uttering, “I do not do well talking to so many people.” He didn’t respond right away, and to her surprise she added with a wry laugh, “I don’t do well talking . Period.”

“You seem to be doing just fine right now.” Again, so matter of fact. If there’d been any hint of pity she would have curled up and cried. Or run out of the room in annoyance. But his matter of factness put her oddly at ease.

She thought through what she’d say twice and then said it. “That’s because I practiced.”

“Indeed?” He sounded curious.

And despite herself, she found herself explaining. “It’s easier if I think through what I wish to say and then…rehearse.” She winced. Rehearse sounded odd, didn’t it?

But then again, she sounded odd. Always. Stutter aside, she had a tendency to say things that made people stare at her like she was from some foreign land.

She let her head fall back against the bookshelf with a soft thud. How could she expect any man to want anything more than friendship with an odd girl such as her?

“Is it being seen that makes you uncomfortable?” he asked. “Or is it seeing others’ reactions that makes it difficult?”

She blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

“I noticed that you seem to have an easier time speaking to me here and now, with this shelf between us. I wondered if perhaps that was a factor.”

She gaped at nothing, her brows drawn together. It was easier to speak to him like this, come to think of it. “I don’t know.” She took a moment to compose her thoughts. “I never thought of it like that.”

“Mmm.” And then, after a thoughtful moment… “Rehearsing. I like that.”

She was quiet because it sounded like he’d been talking to himself, but curiosity had her blurting out, “You do?”

“Mmm. Very practical.”

She choked on a laugh.

“Did I say something amusing?” If she wasn’t listening so closely she might have missed the humor that softened the question.

“No, it’s just…my friends laugh at how practical I tend to be.” She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. Her friends, her practical nature…

That was what had gotten her into this mess.

She’d wanted someone to see her as something more than a friend, that was all. Not because she was a romantic, but because how was anyone supposed to see her as a wife if they couldn’t even imagine courting her?

She pushed the thought aside and focused on an explanation. “I tend to be more practical than most young ladies of my acquaintance, you see.” She smiled at the thought of Jane and her romantic novels or Meg and her unwavering optimism, of even Felicity with her desire for adventures.

And then she thought of her mother trying to teach her how to speak to gentlemen about…well, very little. The list of topics she was supposed to speak of was small, and she had nothing to say on any of the topics. “Perhaps that’s my problem. I’ve never understood how to talk about…nothing.”

Her cheeks heated. What a strange thing to say.

But Lord Kalvin made a noise of agreement. “If that is a problem, then it is an affliction we share.”

She laughed aloud that time, and just as she clapped a hand over her mouth, she heard an answering low rumble from Lord Kalvin.

She dropped her hand. She’d just shared a laugh with the most intimidating gentleman of the ton .

Well, that was something.

A silence fell, but it was far from awkward. It was almost…comfortable.

“You do not have to stay here with me,” she finally said.

“Are you kicking me out?” His tone was all haughty and affronted. Almost comically so.

She bit her lip to stifle another laugh. Was he?—

No he couldn't be.

But then again… “Are you teasing?”

“I am.”

She looked to the left, resisting the urge to crane her neck around the corner to see if he really was smiling or if she was imagining things.

“But,” he added. “In all honesty, this is a pleasant respite. So I’d be grateful if you allowed me to stay.”

She nodded, belatedly remembering he couldn’t see her. “I often come in here when I need a break from talking. Or…” Her laugh was self-deprecating. “Or attempting to talk, that is.”

He was silent for a moment. “It must be difficult for you.”

Again, no pity. She kept quiet.

And then he added, “I admire you.”

She straightened in shock. “Pardon?”

For a moment she thought he was teasing. She braced herself for mockery, even though of all the unpleasant words she’d privately used to describe Lord Kalvin—intimidating, imposing, frightening, overbearing—cruel had never been one of them.

“Having to fight for something others take for granted. It shows strength of character. Bravery in the face of adversity.” His voice was low and soft, and so matter of fact.

As if he didn’t realize his words were rattling her whole world.

“Perhaps that’s why you intrigue me,” he added.

“I…” She couldn’t finish. I intrigue you?

The words halted somewhere between her lungs and her lips. He didn’t mean it like that. But even so, his words held her frozen in place.

“You’re not teasing,” she finally said.

It wasn’t really a question, but he answered all the same. “No. I am not.”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see.

“I commend you on your diligence. Practice makes perfect. Or so my former music tutor assured me.”

Against all odds, she found herself smiling despite the fact she was alone in the library with the marquess. “You had a music tutor?” She tried to picture it and failed. But the image of a young Lord Kalvin being taken to task made her laugh.

“There. Now I suppose I have done my part in lifting your spirits.” His bland tone made her laugh all over again.

Who knew the Marquess of Kalvin could be…funny?

She heard him shifting, and his voice sounded closer. “Perhaps one day you’ll see fit to practice on me.”

That seemingly offhand comment had her laughter dying. “Pardon?”

It came out as a squeak, but at least she didn’t stammer.

“We’ve agreed that practice is essential, so if you find you need someone to practice conversing with, consider me at your disposal.” She heard rustling and imagined him rising to his full height behind her. If he leaned over ever so slightly, he’d be able to see her sitting here, jaw hanging slack.

She clamped her mouth shut, but her mind raced at the unexpected offer. “But…you?”

“Why not me?”

Oh dear. Had she offended him? In her haste to explain herself, she spit out the first thing that came to her mind. “B-but you…you’re…you are m-most…terrifying.”

The truth dropped at her feet like a dead mouse. She cringed, wishing she could call it back.

“Am I?” He didn’t sound offended. Merely thoughtful.

Her heart raced as she tried to craft an apology.

“I’ve always heard I was intimidating,” he said.

She tipped her head from side to side. “That too,” she admitted.

His chuckle warmed her all the way through and it did nothing to help her with the apology she owed him.

“Well then...” His voice came from above and when she tilted her head back she found him leaning over the low shelf, his head directly above hers. “All the more reason I’m the person you ought to practice on.”

“I…” She gaped up at him in awkward silence. “You?”

“Of course.” The hint of a smile tugged at his lips and held her captive. “Who better to practice on than a terrifying marquess, hmm?”

“I…” She couldn’t answer. In fact, she couldn’t even breathe until he straightened and his head was no longer looming over her. But then he stepped around the shelf to face her directly.

“You should know, however, that you have no reason to fear me.” His gaze met hers and held her captive. “I will never hurt you. Not knowingly, at least.”

“I…” Blast. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response.

He straightened his jacket and his cravat. He was nearly out the door when she finally managed to say, “Er…thank you?”