from that shattering awareness, she lowered her hands and stood.
“All of that with a rake?” Fanny asked skeptically.
“Yes, with a rake,” Maryann whispered. “A supposed libertine and the wickedest of them all.”
But also, so much more.
“Who has vowed never to marry,” Ophelia contributed.
“That very one,” Maryann said, folding her arms beneath her breasts, and started pacing.
“It might be easier to get a pig to fly than a man not so puffed up with vanity that he would allow all that,” Fanny said with a heavy sigh.
“The truth of it is, sometimes I do not know if I want to marry any man. The independence I have now is limited, but I relish having it, and the more advanced I get in age, the more freedom I will attain. If my father has shown me anything, it is that once I am a wife, I am not expected to have my own sense of thought, everything will be controlled by my husband and dare I protest, I will be scolded most severely!”
“But?” the always astute Fanny asked archly.
Everything inside her went soft, and achy with need. “For the right gentleman, I would happily relinquish my independence—for he would not cage me, would he? He would want to see me fly. And if I should overreach in my recklessness, the right man would catch me.”
The memory of falling from the trellis into the marquess’s arms flowered through her, and she bit into the soft of her lips to prevent the smile hovering in her heart. “I do not want a husband who will allow…but one who will share and experience with me.”
Fanny wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “You were the one who encouraged us all to stop giving a damn about what is expected of us and for once reach for what we want! So, seduce the marquess into falling in love with you.”
“Fanny,” Ophelia gasped, her eyes twinkling. “How rakish!”
Her friends laughed, pulling a smile to Maryann’s lips. “The prospect is alluring, but also ridiculous. What do any of us know about seduction? And I am not consulting with Princess Cosima as Kitty did.” Unless…
“Would he be open to your wiles?” Ophelia asked, arching a brow.
Maryann snorted, quite unladylike. “What wiles? Should I possess any, I do not know it!”
“He has not tried to steal any kisses from you,” Fanny said, tapping her chin with a finger. “The first step is to determine if he is attracted to you.”
“I was wicked with him last night in a manner I can never describe,” she confessed in a rush. “I daresay he is very attracted. He just has not kissed my mouth as yet.”
Ophelia made a choking sound and Fanny froze, her eyes rounding.
Oh dear.
Ophelia stood, fisting a hand on her voluptuous hip. “What do you mean—”
The door opened and her mother sailed inside, her eyes bright and determined. Fanny and Ophelia curtsied and greeted the countess.
“I must ask you ladies to cut this visit short. Maryann has a caller who wishes for an audience.”
Her heart leaped. “A caller?”
“Lord Stamford. He awaits you in the drawing room.”
A shock went through her. “I am to meet with him alone?”
“Perfectly permissible between an affianced pair,” her mother said coolly, looking down her nose at Maryann. “The door has been left discreetly ajar. Hurry now, and do not keep the earl waiting.”
“We are not affianced,” she said, repeating it once more. “There has been no announcement, and Papa has promised me to wait.” But you sense he has been prevaricating, a small voice reminded her.
Her friends were ushered out, and Maryann plodded from the small sitting room, down the hallway to the waiting earl. She recalled Nicolas’s warning to be careful around the earl, then frowned, for the man was acting in a respectable manner in coming to her home. The rumors had not deterred him in any fashion.
“Mama,” she said, “I would ask that you stay in the drawing room with us. I am not comfortable with Lord Stamford.”
Her mother made no reply as they reached the drawing room, allowing Maryann to precede her inside. The earl turned from the windows, and Maryann was once again taken aback by his youthful handsomeness. He came over, the look in his eyes mild and oddly warm.
She dipped into a small curtsy. “Lord Stamford.”
He bowed slightly and without taking his gaze from her said, “Lady Musgrove, I bid you to allow me a few minutes alone with your lovely daughter. The proper courtesies will be upheld.”
Her mother smiled radiantly