Marquess of Malice

Malice, as his friends fondly referred to him, sat on a bench in the garden of the Chase family home, staring at the newly emerging spring flowers sprouting from
the ground.

His name was Lord Chadwick Hennessey, Marquess of Malicorn, but no one had called him by his given name since his mother had given it to him with her dying
breath.

Which was likely why he hated being called Chadwick. It held too many ugly memories. He ran his hand through his hair, staring at a small green bud struggling to
rise up through the dirt. He grimaced. He’d been that flower as a child. Struggling and straining to flourish, the very ground that was supposed to nurture him pushing him back into the dirt.

He straightened his back, drawing in a deep breath. He wasn’t that child any longer. He was a grown man now who never wallowed in self-pity.

Standing, he stared down at the tiny plant. He wouldn’t expend emotion on a flower but he couldn’t help it. Just a bit. He leaned over and brushed the dirt away from the
small plant giving it more room to grow. Satisfaction spread through his limbs and he let out a long breath as more of the bright green stock came into
view. 

“Oh,” a feminine voice trilled from his left. “My apologies, my lord.”

He stopped, his fingers still in the dirt. He’d been caught caring about a tiny plant. Even worse, it was her who had made the discovery. His insides tightened. Despite the fact this was only the second time they’d met, he knew the sound of Lady Cordelia Chase’s voice
without even looking at her.

Malice had carefully fostered a reputation of reckless abandon sprinkled with a healthy dose of sarcastic indifference. He rarely showed emotion toward anyone
or anything. He most definitely didn’t want Lady Cordelia to think he was a sappy sort. It would give her the wrong impression. “What are you apologizing for?” Malice straightened, giving her a long look as he glared down at her. How
odd.

She pushed up her glasses, nibbling at her lip. “For interrupting. Had I known anyone was out here, I would have come with a chaperone.”

He relaxed, his shoulders slumping down. She didn’t seem to have noticed that he was aiding tiny plants. “No need to apologize.” He cared not if she were chaperoned, despite the fact that she was a tender debutante. “How goes the
wedding breakfast?”

Cordelia turned back to look at the house. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just return inside.”

“No need.” He waved his hand. “I’ll escort you back to the wedding breakfast in just a moment.”

She cocked her head to one side. “I beg your pardon?”

He ignored her question, instead studying her from top to bottom. Her fair hair was tied rather tightly back from her face. The hair itself looked soft and he
wondered how she might look with a looser coif. Her glasses perpetually slid down her nose, likely because it was the tiniest nose he’d ever seen with just
a slight upturn at the bottom. When she looked at him over the top of the glasses, her eyes were a striking color of crystal blue like a lake on a sunny day. Quite pleasant.

On their very first meeting, she’d not been wearing the spectacles and had promptly tripped into his arms. She had a nice figure. Curvy without being overly large, and without the dark rims of her glasses, he’d noted the lovely shape of her eyes, large and clear with a gentle upturn at the outside corners. Glasses or no, a man couldn’t miss how nice the curve of her mouth was—so full
and tempting.

He’d also realized she was a quiet and affable lady who would make an excellent wife.