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

“And give her license to come here and complain about every little thing she can dredge up? The woman is a menace.”

“She might be unhappy. Lonely perhaps.”

“That isn’t surprising,” he said crisply. She hadn’t missed Miss Carswell’s calculating expression. She would be eager to spread gossip concerning him and Carrie as soon as she reached the village. It was a good thing Carrie was leaving tomorrow.

Carrie rose. “If there’s nothing else, I wish to spend this time left to me with my brother and sister.”

They left the room. Nicholas hoped Miss Carswell would never prove his instincts to be right. Carrie’s slender back in her apricot gown appeared rigid as she moved away from him toward the stairs. She didn’t look back. He fought an urge to go after her, to further explain his reasons for doubting the woman who had caused more than one uproar among the village wives. He disliked Carrie thinking ill of him. Especially when they had a long journey ahead of them, tomorrow, he would take her to London.

It would pass, he assured himself as he retreated to the library. He should be glad he hadn’t given in and invited her to stay longer. Carrie would soon be the belle of London's balls, and her exciting life would begin.

Nicholas sat at his desk. Chester was absent. A footman had taken the dog for an airing. The library had always been Nicholas’s sanctuary, where he could lose himself for a while, but now the lofty room just seemed empty.

***

It was barely seven in the morning when they said their goodbyes on the gravel drive outside the house. Held in check by the coachman, the glossy chestnut horses reared their heads and pulled against the tracers, impatient to be gone. Determined not to let them see her cry, Carrie hugged Jeremy and Bella, who wept unrestrainedly. Beside her, Miss Scotsdale sniffed, her eyes reddened. Jeremy drooped, having lost his confident stance, more like the young boy he was. To see them distressed crushed her heart. She gulped, and despite her efforts, tears filled her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away with her handkerchief.

Nicholas assisted her and Anna into the coach. He climbed in after them, and the footman put up the steps and closed the door.

As the vehicle rolled away past the fountain and down the drive, Nicholas opened the window for Carrie. She leaned out and waved. But with such powerful horses drawing the coach, the small, sorrowful group was soon lost to sight. A pang of loss lodged painfully in her chest. They would be together again soon.

Carrie glanced at Nicholas, where he sprawled over the carriage seat opposite, riding with his back to the horses. Nicholas had promised to take them to London. And he always kept his word.

She settled back against the soft, upholstered squab beside Anna.

Nicholas tucked his flintlock into a hidden compartment, then sat back and crossed his arms.

She frowned uneasily. “Do highwaymen still rob coaches on the toll road?”

“No. It’s merely a precaution.”

He explained how long the journey would take and where they would spend the night.

Weary through to her bones after a restless night, Carrie listened without comment. On her last evening at Elm Park, they had attempted a small celebration at dinner. The chef created a wonderful dessert of spun sugar, piled high with cream and strawberries, but they were too subdued to enjoy it, except for Jeremy, who ate more than his share.

She retired as soon as Bella went to bed. While she undressed, Anna, excited, chatted nonstop about her first trip to London until Carrie wished she would stop. After she dismissed her, Carrie lay in the dark, unable to still her worrisome thoughts. She prodded her pillow. At least it would please Nicholas to have her gone. How determined he was to carry out her father’s wishes and see her married, even though she caught an expression in his eyes, sometimes, and his manner toward her… She shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the present.

Her gaze was constantly drawn to him. Nicholas looked so large sprawled over the seat, his long legs arranged so as not to touch hers. His stubborn refusal to allow her to stay a few more days annoyed her. She sensed he wanted her to and was even tempted to agree, but for Miss Carswell and his infuriating sense of honor.

She frowned at him.

When he raised his eyebrows in response, she turned to gaze out the window as they passed through the village.

“Was it one of your horses trampling Miss Carswell’s garden?” she asked.

“No. Major Willington’s gelding from the Grange. Apparently, the animal often escapes. They have yet to discover how.”

“Oh.”

“Willington has promised to restore Miss Carswell’s gardens to rights.”

“I’m glad.”

“I arranged delivery of a box of my chef’s chocolate bonbons,” he said. “I was a little short with her.”

Relenting, she smiled. “That was kind of you, Nicholas.”

“I hope it doesn’t encourage the woman.” A slight smile lifted his lips. “She might start calling in with baked offerings. It would outrage Armand.”

Carrie laughed. She wasn’t entirely in sympathy with Miss Carswell at this moment, but she had no intention of telling him.

He leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “It is good to hear you laugh, Carrie. Everyone behaved as if I’m taking you to the gallows last night. And this morning, I felt like a fiend. You’re not unhappy, are you?”

She shook her head and tucked her handkerchief into her reticule. “Forgive me. I was determined not to be a watering pot. I shall be perfectly at ease in London. It is exciting, and I have Gwen to look out for me, so I have no concerns.”

“Your debut will be a great success. Of that, I am certain.”

“I