Chapter 2 #2
She was still making mental lists, taking off items, double-checking accounts in her mind, trying to ignore all the fuss created around her when she hit a wall.
Marigold was surprised because she was quite certain that there was no wall on the route she had taken, and yet there was a big obstacle in front of her.
She looked up only to see that the wall was made of human flesh because she first saw a man’s chest. Marigold was not very used to looking up to people since she was quite tall for a woman, but she really had to crane her neck to look upon this man in the eyes.
The moment she met with a pair of dark black obsidian eyes, she instinctively looked around to make sure that she was on a busy London street during the daylight and not some dirty alley.
Because this man in front of her was none other than the stranger who had helped her the night before. There was no mistaking him. It wasn’t just his distinct height, but also, she would never forget those eyes crowned by that pair of eyebrows.
“It’s you,” she said, mostly surprised.
Because that man in the dark overcoat, the lambskin gloves, and the controlled posture of a refined gentleman could not have been the man who beat Donny into submission just the night before. This giant with broad shoulders that attracted almost every look in the street was a true gentleman.
He looked down at her and then, without saying a word, circumvented her and passed her by.
But Marigold was not ready to give this up. She followed him, changing the way she was going completely.
“Please, sir, just a word,” she pleaded.
The man replied nothing and hastened his step which, given his long legs, meant that he was putting distance between them fast. This was one of the rare occasions that Marigold felt extremely grateful for her height.
“Please, sir, I was thinking all night on how to repay you for your kindness.”
The man again replied nothing, but his full lips pressed in annoyance.
“There isn’t much that I can offer,” she admitted, really not having thought through this demonstration of gratefulness, “but I can be quite helpful. I can clean your house or mend your clothes or even—”
“If these are the services you provide,” the man delivered in his baritone voice, “shouldn’t you be delivering them to your employer?”
Marigold was not offended. She knew very well that she looked less like a lady of the ton and more like a maid or a housekeeper. One had to look very closely to see that her garments were once refined or notice her posture and hear the almost perfect articulation to realize the difference.
“All I am asking is for you to give me a chance to repay you.”
“Stop following me around and go fulfill your duties before your employer changes his mind.”
“My Lord,” Marigold mustered all of her lady upbringing, “if I may introduce myself. I am the daughter of Earl Covington.”
The man stopped in his tracks when he realized that he was being uncivil to a lady, even one in shambles.
He turned and looked at her seriously, and Marigold regretted gaining the attention of such a man.
Somehow, he managed to look even more lethal during the daylight than he did in the dark alleys of the city.
“Lady Covington,” he said, still incredulous of the turn of events.
“We can both agree that there is no need for superficial manners,” Marigold said in a conspiratory way, “but I am still a lady, and there is a debt between us. The honorable thing for my part is to offer what I have in exchange for your kindness.”
He looked at her as if he was still recalibrating the reality around him.
“Of course,” Marigold continued, “you can see for yourself that I do not have much to offer, but I intend not to let this hinder me from showing my gratitude. So, if there is—”
“There is no need for gratitude,” the man said abruptly.
“Perhaps not to you, but what you did last night afforded me at least one week of not being harassed, and that is a week I didn’t have before.
Donny is ridiculous, as you may have gathered, but he’s also quite terrifying, at least to me.
You managed to fend him off. So, if I have to mend your handkerchiefs or your socks, I will not pretend I am above it. ”
He frowned, not in anger but in pure surprise, looking down as if contemplating something. When he looked back at her, there were a million questions written all over his face. Still, he didn’t get the chance to even pose one of them.
“I hope she’s not bothering you, Your Grace.”
Marigold didn’t even have to turn to know who exactly that was. After all, she had debuted with Lady Hayes the same year,.
“It is quite appalling to be interrupted by such individuals on the street,” Lady Hayes said to no one in particular in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
A sigh escaped Marigold upon reminiscing about her old friendship.
They may have started together, but there was a huge gap between them now.
Her so-called friend had managed to snatch a viscount, secure a title, and give birth to an heir, and somehow, she was under the impression that all these achievements gave her the right to be cruel to other people. Especially Marigold.
“Run along now, Lady Marigold,” her old friend finally addressed her, “and do not insult His Grace’s eyes with your sore appearance.”
Marigold looked up and was not surprised to see a full henhouse of ladies gathered around Lady Hayes.
Luckily for her, they were all concentrated on the man before her.
Marigold congratulated herself on her deduction skills.
She knew the man was of high status, and she had now just confirmed that he was a duke.
“I am sure,” one of the other ladies said, “the Duke of Voss is such a nice gentleman that he has no idea the company he is keeping.”
“Absolutely,” another whispered loudly enough. “You see, Your Grace, Lady Marigold can be quite cruel and rude.”
“She is, after all,” Lady Hayes dared to touch the man on the arm, so she could get closer, “a terrible, stingy, and mean woman.”
Marigold was quite used to being treated like this on the streets or everywhere she would meet members of the ton. She never minded. She knew who she was, and others’ opinions mattered little when she had to worry about putting food on her table.
But now, her eyes urgently found his.
This man helped her without even knowing who she was, and now, he would want nothing to do with her. That feeling of having someone in her corner was so short-lived.
She chuckled bitterly and turned her back to leave. She still had a deal to broker with a butcher.
“You would do well never to speak ill of my betrothed, especially in front of me.”