He quirked a brow at her, a grin tugging at his lips.
“I only said I was in agreement,” she assured him.
Jordana looked up at the sky, sticking out her tongue as the first raindrops began to fall.
Another rush of wind, this one much stronger than the others, had Marissa holding down her dress lest all of London see her underthings. The hat rocked precariously, struggling to stay atop her head, before lifting from her hair and scuttling down the path.
“Bloody hell.”
Neither Haddon nor Jordana showed the least bit of shock at her language which was mildly disappointing. “I apologize, Jordana, I should not have cursed.”
“Oh, I’ve heard my father say much worse.”
“Much worse,” Haddon agreed, the mischievous smile Marissa so adored fixed firmly on his lips.
Marissa stomped to where her hat had fallen to the ground, sighing at the wet leaves sticking to the brim. Perhaps it could be repaired. She bent and tried to grab at her hat while simultaneously holding down her skirts which were determined to creep up her legs.
Another gust of wind blew across her ankles bringing several fat droplets of rain.
The hat slid away from her and across the wet grass, bumping over a large bush to land well out of her reach.
Damn and blast.
“Leave it,” Haddon said from the path, taking hold of Jordana’s arm. “The sky will open upon us at any moment.”
Marissa was incredibly annoyed. At herself. At Haddon. At Lady Christina. And at her bloody hat. “I will not. It is one of a kind, made especially for me.”
As she watched in horror, the wind took her precious, one-of-a-kind hat up into the air where it hovered for a moment before sailing toward an oak tree. The ribbons across the brim tangled on a low hanging branch, the hat swinging in the air, taunting Marissa.
Her new bloody hat.
This was what came of jealousy over the likes of Christina Sykes. She strode to the tree, ignoring the approaching storm and jumped up, the ribbon fluttering just out of her reach. A drop of rain fell right on the end of her nose. She was going to become a drenched, matronly—
“Jordana.” Haddon spoke from behind her. “We’ve only just gotten you well. The doctor says you cannot afford to catch another chill which could settle in your chest. Get to our carriage and head home before the storm descends. The temperature has already dropped.”
“But—”
“Now, Jordana. I’ll see to Lady Cupps-Foster and her hat.”
“Goodbye, Lady Cupps-Foster!” Jordana ran in the direction of Haddon’s carriage whose driver, seeing the approach of rain, had already steered the vehicle further into the park to intercept them.
“Take her directly home,” he yelled at the driver before turning to Marissa. “I may have to beg a ride.” Haddon’s voice vibrated down into her skin, dispelling the cold and warming her from the inside out.
“Why don’t you just go?” Marissa didn’t want his help. Nor was this about her hat. “Elderly widow that I am, I’m fairly certain I can retrieve this hat myself.”
“I believe the term she used was older widow. I’ve no intention of leaving you here alone, jumping around like a mad hare.” He looked back at his carriage which was pulling away now with Jordana tucked safely inside.
“There’s no need, Haddon. Truly.” She made another leap at the ribbon fluttering just out of her reach.
“You realize, Marissa, that no matter how hard you jump, you won’t be able to catch it.”
Marissa shot him a murderous look and continued to leap toward the branch, fingers spread to catch at the fluttering piece of ribbon.
An older widow. An appropriate chaperone. Is that all I am?
Isn’t that all she wished to be to him?
“Christ, Marissa. It’s only a hat.”
I called him a dalliance, which is so far from the truth. I suppose we’re even now.
Rain began to pelt them, the droplets big and fat. The wind blew, no longer in sharp bursts but in steady, chilling gusts. They would both catch cold if they didn’t leave soon.
“I don’t need your help.” Looking down at the rain spotting her dress and dripping down her shoulders in rivulets, with the hat ruined, and her hair sliding from its pins, Marissa gave a small cry of frustration.
Now she appeared to be an older bedraggled widow.
Haddon swept past her. Taking off his coat, he nestled it around her shoulders and handed her his own hat.
Marissa shivered in pleasure as the coat fell over her. The fabric was still warm from his body and