Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2), Maggi Andersen [best short novels of all time TXT] 📗

approachable. As they entered the stable yard where his groom waited, she peeked at his profile, his straight nose, well-shaped mouth, and strong chin. Was he hard-hearted? He’d have to be to dismiss his housekeeper without a reference. And yet, while he discussed the condition of his horse with his head groom, she found it hard to believe such a thing about him.

He returned to her after several minutes. “Shall I show you the lime walk you saw from your window?”

“Yes, please.” She took his proffered arm and walked with him over the cobbles. “Tell me, when did you first meet my father?”

“His carriage was in a ditch when I happened by. I took him to the wheelwright in the next town. Imagine our surprise when we discovered he was to be my history professor at Oxford. Your father was a generous fellow, Carrie. And a good listener. He became a staunch friend to me when I desperately needed one. And as time passed, we discovered we had much in common.”

“What did you have in common?” She wanted to know what had made him need her father’s advice so desperately, but it would have been rude to ask about it.

“Oh, many things, but ancient history most particularly.”

“You read my father’s books?”

“I did. Every one. Those on Plato and the Ancient Greeks were remarkable.”

“He and Mama went to Greece for their honeymoon.”

“He told me about that.”

“Did he tell you how my mother hated the heat and the food and became sick on the boat?” She grinned. “He was intent on viewing Parnassus, the home of the gods, and the Oracle of Delphi. Mama complained he preferred the ruins to her.”

He chuckled. “Not the best choice for a honeymoon, perhaps.”

“Oh no! Mama enjoyed almost all of it. Riding on a donkey, eating grapes and olives. She insisted her honeymoon was perfect because she was with the man she loved.”

Nicholas’s smiling gray eyes met hers. “A delightful story, thank you for sharing it.”

“It is, isn’t it? Papa has many books on Athens and the Greeks in his library. That awakened Jeremy’s interest in archeology.”

He turned to gaze at her. “But it failed to capture your interest?”

“The way Papa spoke of Greece made it sound fascinating.”

Nicholas plucked a leaf from Carrie’s hair. “You should wear your hat. You don’t wish to spoil so perfect a complexion.”

Foolishly pleased by his compliment, although so casually delivered, she settled her bonnet back on her head. At least he didn’t laugh at her dreams of traveling to exotic climes.

Her arm in his, he drew her along a path leading into the trees. How tall he was; she had to adjust to his long stride. Being so close made her slightly breathless. “Here we are. The lime walk.”

Bordered by flowering hedges, a stone path led through two rows of beautifully shaped lime trees. At their feet, a mat of white flowers spilled over the ground, filling the air with a sweet scent.

“Oh. How perfect it is.” She forgot her uneasiness and turned to smile at him, then blushed when she found him watching her.

She swallowed, and her heart raced. “The gardens are wonderful.”

“I am fortunate to have an excellent team of gardeners. Shall we go on?” He took her arm, and they continued toward the house.

At Leeming, the gardeners were always about and greeted her when she came across them. “I haven’t seen one of your gardeners during our walk.”

“They are discreet.”

“A pity,” she said before she could stop herself.

He stopped to look at her. “Is it? Why?”

“I should like to compliment them.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. He led her off the path, and they crossed the lawns. The thump of a spade in the earth reached her as they rounded a hedge.

A man bent over his spade as he turned the earth in a flower bed. He straightened hurriedly and whipped off his hat. “Milord?”

“Good day, Jenkins. Miss Leeming wishes to compliment you and the undergardener on the beauty of the spring gardens.”

Carrie beamed at him. “They are magnificent, Mr. Jenkins. Your color selection is perfectly delightful.”

Jenkins flushed and bent over in a rusty bow. “Thank yea, milady.”

They walked on.

“Jenkins appears contented in his work,” Carrie said as they neared the house.

“And so he is,” Nicholas said. “He has a good life here, as do all my staff.”

She thought of his housekeeper, cast out into the cold. “But is that enough?” she entreated.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What more should I do? Grab a spade and assist him?”

She looked skeptical and removed her hand from his arm. “To have his work appreciated, of course, and not have to hide behind hedges.”

“Was he hiding?”

She frowned at him.

Nicholas’s eyes twinkled. “I see I have been remiss. Thank you for calling it to mind.”

Carrie playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “You did not seem entirely sure of his name. And I see no need for levity.”

Stepping up onto the porch, he sighed and took hold of her elbow to lead her into the house. “Oh, but there is, Carrie, life calls for it. Otherwise, we sink into gloom.”

She had nothing to say to that. They crossed the hall, their footsteps echoing on the marble flooring. After he parted from her, Carrie climbed the stairs, recalling how his laugh spread a ray of small lines from the corners of his eyes outward, which made him so very attractive.

Had she been so engulfed in sadness and weighed down by responsibility, she’d forgotten how to laugh? She would hate him to find her dull. What happened to the adventurous girl she had been, who believed passionately in life and romance? She suddenly wanted to laugh with him and see approval of her reflected in his eyes.