Free The Marker by Meggan Connors Page A

she went to the dining room. He allowed her to sit alone for a few moments, but when he went out to join her, he found only an empty plate. She must have shoveled the food into her mouth to finish so quickly.
    He had to laugh. So she thought she was pretty clever.
    With all of his attempts, she never actually declined. She did as he bade her, but she did only what he asked of her and nothing more. Join him for tea? Oh, she came, and then she left. He’d like to see her at dinner? Certainly. She’d come and sit at the table, stare at him, and not say a word. Riding was clearly out of the question, given her skills or lack thereof.
    What could he do to charm her back into her voice? There had to be something he could do to force her to talk to him.
    After days of wracking his brain, the idea came to him in a flash of brilliance. The Governor’s Ball. Nicholas was willing to wager she had never been gone to such an event, nor had the opportunity to break out any finery she may have possessed. He hadn’t planned on going, but if he took her, Lexie’s good manners would require her to speak. She would never be so rude as to ignore him at such an event. He wished he had thought of it earlier.
    He asked her in the form of a letter, and his instructions were specific. Come with me to the Governor’s Ball. This is a formal event and dress accordingly. The navy gown would be appropriate. I will be attending as your escort.
    Later that day, she stormed into his study, shaking his note at him. He had laughed at her, but when she said nothing, he knew she would attend. After all, she had no voice to refuse him with. He found, rather than dreading such an event, he looked forward to it, if it meant he would spend time with Lexie. More so if it meant he would finally hear her voice.
     
    The day of the ball, Mrs. Ferguson clucked over Lexie like a hen, more excited than Lexie that she would get to rub elbows with some of the most important people in the state, blissfully fussing over her, helping her choose what to wear, how to style her hair, making sure she was perfumed and primped.
    Finishing her no-so-gentle ministrations, Mrs. Ferguson clasped her hands together and admired her handiwork. “Och, lass, you are a vision.”
    Lexie smiled at the older woman, pleased with her reflection. Her dark hair was curled and had been twisted in an elaborate coif that still allowed the curly, dark mass to spill down her back. A small amount of rouge colored her cheeks and her lips—just enough to draw attention. She had to admit the gown she had chosen was lovely: the scarlet silk, with a fitted bodice that clung to her curves all the way to her small, narrow waist. She had chosen it because Nicholas wanted her to wear the navy, because the bright color seemed so different from the more subdued, darker one. Even so, she felt naked in the low-cut bodice with small cap sleeves exposing her pale shoulders and more bosom than she cared for. Delicate, a touch risqué, this was a gown designed to be worn only once. She had never even fancied wearing something like this.
    She wondered if she should take it off and go with something a little less provocative. Maybe Nicholas was right. Maybe she should wear the navy.
    She wondered what her father would say if he found out what she was wearing.
    She wondered if Nicholas would like it.
    “You’ll have a hard time keeping the gentleman at bay, I’d wager. Mr. Wetherby will have his hands full, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Ferguson said as if hearing her thoughts. Then, with a laugh, she added, “Serves him right, too.”
    Lexie frowned. Was she so transparent? She didn’t want to want Nicholas’s approval, but she secretly did. “I am not interested in what Mr. Wetherby thinks.”
    Mrs. Ferguson laughed outright. “Of course ye are, lass,” she chided. “Never a woman born who didn’t have at least a fleeting desire to impress him. Even me, and I’m a happily married woman, and too old for the