My Fair Marchioness (Scandalous Affairs Book 3) by Christi Caldwell (best short books to read txt) 📗

all, and then she’d be gone from this family and this life before she caused any more pain, any more sadness than she already had. Before she earned any more undeserved kindness from the man beside her.

Why did that cause the ache in her chest that it did?

Because you see that he’s not a heartless nobleman, but an honorable gentleman who cares so very dearly for an older lady.

And because he expressed outrage on her behalf? Imagine the outrage were he to discover your complicity, the fact that you not only deterred Adairia from coming to the duchess, but that you came in her stead.

She was the impostor he believed her to be.

She was—

A flutter of pink out of the corner of Julia’s eye brought her head whipping sideways, and she stared, riveted by the sight of the enormous winged creature, fairy-tale-like in its look and graceful movements as it slid along the placid surface of the Serpentine. Then it disappeared under the water so that only a slight rippling remained, and Julia didn’t know whether she’d merely imagined the sighting.

Gripping the side of the curricle, Julia angled herself over the edge to squint at the river.

“Julia?” Harris’ query came with a concerned question.

There are magical birds there. I tell you, Julia, they’re real. Of course, you wouldn’t believe it, because they are just so very majestic.

Adairia’s adamant singsong voice came as clear and as real as if she were beside Julia even now.

Julia, who’d charted the comments as more of Adairia’s effervescent joy and belief in magic.

The bird broke the surface, the distant splash breaking through the memories.

“It is real,” she whispered.

“Julia?” Harris repeated.

Her breath caught, and she gripped his arm. “Stop the curricle,” she whispered, tugging his sleeve, and then she was scrambling over the side. Julia stumbled, and then caught herself, and took off running.

He was going to lose the lady.

He was going to have to return to the duchess’ residence and explain that the fay woman had slipped out from under him and gone racing off.

And the thing of it was, of all the reasons he’d given for the lady to be offended, he came up empty on precisely what had sent her running.

Cursing, Harris steadied the horses, and then, bringing the curricle to a complete stop, he secured the reigns and took off after her.

Her figure proved a speck in the distance, the lady faster than any he’d ever known.

Harris lengthened his strides.

“Julia,” he called.

She gave no indication she’d heard him, continuing on, and then suddenly, she stopped on the edge of the Serpentine.

Planting her hands on her hips, she stared out at the river.

He skidded to a halt as he reached her side. “What is—?”

“Do you see this?” she whispered.

Raising his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the sun, Harris scanned the horizon, searching for whatever it was that had moved the young woman to shock.

“I don’t…”

She shot her arm out, pointing, and he followed that gesture to the placid river.

And God help him, he still had not a goddamned clue as to what—

“They’re birds,” she whispered, and then she dissolved into an exuberant laugh. “Pink birds, Harris.”

They’d been a staple in the park for all the years he could remember, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d noted them. “I… yes, they’re pelicans.”

“Pink ones,” she said, pressing her hands to her mouth and laughing all the more. “Pink pelicans.”

He’d never known anyone to find such unadulterated joy in anything so simple. The women he kept company with were ones whose wonder didn’t extend beyond the material baubles he provided during his relationship with them.

He found his gaze drawn to Julia, and he took in the bright splashes of color upon her cheeks. He was… entranced. By her joy. By the freedom with which she allowed herself to share those sentiments.

She rocked back on her heels, her features wreathed in an unabashed joy that held him frozen, captivated by such an effervescent happiness. “I thought they were magical,” she said, more to herself, that whimsical smile still dancing upon the corners of her mouth.

And once more he was drawn by that lush mouth. Her slightly fuller, poutier lower lip, captivated him.

“When I was a boy, the duchess and Ladies Cavendish and Cowpen took me to Hyde Park to see the pelicans. They told me the Serpentine was no mere river, but rather…” Harris drifted closer. “A wishing well,” he whispered.

She stared blankly at him, giving her head a little shake that conveyed her lack of understanding.

His chest hitched in the oddest way as he was reminded all over again of the harsh portrait she’d painted of the struggles she’d known.

“A wishing well,” he repeated. “The Celts believed springs and wells were sacred places. Places of magic, where keepers dwelled below. For a price, they would grant a wish to the wisher. The duchess and her friends would bring me to that spot there.” He pointed across the way, and Julia followed that gesture to the adjacent end of the Serpentine. “And they’d take turns giving me coins, and I’d close my eyes each time, think, and then throw those coins out.”

Another one of those lilting laughs spilled from her lips. “And you believed in that magic?”

“Oh, unabashedly so. I wasn’t always cynical,” he said, and her smile deepened. Her sharp cheeks contained the faintest trace of dimples within them. “In fact, I was quite a lover of all things magical.” Reaching inside his jacket, he withdrew a small purse and fished out a pence. “Here.”

She stared at the coin in confusion. “I don’t…” Julia shook her head.

“Make a wish,” he urged, pressing that coin forward.

Julia blanched and held her palms up