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

“And so you will. Except for the waltz, of course. Not until you’re presented.”

She glanced up at him. Did he not wish her to dance the waltz?

“I’m told they permit the waltz at private balls under certain circumstances. Gwen can find me a suitable partner.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Someone in his dotage could suffice.”

“Oh, I hope not. I expect many handsome gentlemen in London for the Season.”

His brow creased. “And some of them rakes. But I’m confident my sister will keep them at bay.”

“Rakes? I thought they were out of a storybook.”

“No, rakes and fortune hunters are quite real. Men who are after your dowry, or…” He glanced at Anna, whose eyes were closed, but she was probably listening to every word.

“The rake was charming in a book I read. Perhaps not all of them have ill intentions?” Carrie prompted as she searched for a sign he was jealous.

“All of them,” he said shortly. “I will give any unsuitable gentlemen seeking your hand short shrift. Gwen will keep me informed,” he said. “We have a long distance to travel before we reach the coaching inn.” He tilted his head toward her slumbering maid. “We had a very early start, and travel is fatiguing. I suggest you rest, too.”

He pushed his hat back, folded his arms again, and closed his eyes.

Carrie frowned at him. Nicholas was being annoyingly evasive. Would he consider her wishes on the matter? He had never actually said. She wanted to tell him about the sort of man she’d dreamed of marrying. Not just someone who would care for her siblings, but one who would not disappear to his club every evening or take a mistress. A man who would include her in his life, as her father had her mother, and take her with him on journeys to interesting foreign climes as Papa had done.

Her fingers itched to prod Nicholas, for he used this excuse to escape her questions. Well, it was a long trip to London he couldn’t avoid her forever. She studied his lean face, which had become familiar and dear to her, his brow framed by wavy dark hair, his noble nose, his full bottom lip. What would he do should she lean across and kiss him? Would he be shocked and push her away? Or would he draw her close and kiss her back?

He would rebuff her, she decided. His firm jaw had a stubborn cast. Not a man easily swayed from a decision he considered right. He could be frightfully stubborn then, she thought ruefully. And his gray eyes would become steely.

She sighed. If only he’d fallen in love with her. But he had not. Nor was she entirely sure of her own feelings. She wondered again if his patience with Bella and Jeremy and his sympathy and support had beguiled her. She only knew she would miss him terribly, and the thought caused a hitch in her breath.

Perhaps he really didn’t need a wife. He was so self-contained. And she would shrivel and die if her husband didn’t need her. She carefully removed her new Italian straw bonnet, arranged the apple green ribbons which matched those on her pelisse, and placed the hat on the seat beside her. If she was a woman worth her salt, as her father used to say… She mused for several minutes, finding no obvious way forward, except that it was probably wise to leave Elm Park and seek the answers in London.

Although a sharp wind blew the trees about, it was warm inside the carriage. She grew tired of the vista of green pastures dotted with oaks and sheep passing by the window and yawned, eyelids heavy, as the rocking of the well-sprung carriage lulled her to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

The coach jounced on its springs, negotiating a sharp bend. Nicholas opened his eyes and set his hat back on his head. He’d had no intention of sleeping. He always remained alert, even though his armed footman sat beside his coachmen. Nicholas could hardly embark on the clarification of a rake’s devilish practices, not while in a carriage with Carrie’s maid. And Carrie had that look in her eyes which he’d come to recognize. She would not give up until he explained every sordid detail.

Across from him, Carrie leaned against her maid’s shoulder. Both were asleep. Everything she’d been through exhausted her, evident by the bluish cast beneath her lovely eyes. It was difficult for her to leave Bella and Jeremy, although she’d tried to hide her distress from them. He appreciated her grit and hoped the man she married would not only value her for her beauty. Nicholas would do his best to find a man of such sterling character. Not always easy among the younger gentlemen; many were vain, selfish, and idle. But Max’s wish that she marry a man young enough to share her dreams narrowed the field somewhat.

He must return to Elm Park before Bella and Jeremy tested his nerve again, but he wasn’t keen to leave London so soon. What he hadn’t wished to go into with Carrie was how scoundrels looked for a chance to ensnare a young woman from a good family with a handsome dowry. Carrie was not a giddy young girl, but she was inexperienced. A charming rake could trap a debutante into an indiscretion and then force her into wedlock. Once their virginity was plundered, a rascal could use the fact for his own scurrilous ends, or he might just take her for the pleasure of it.

The distaste he felt for these men, should they attempt such a thing with Carrie, would provoke him into a duel to the death in Hyde Park. Bemused, Nicholas shook his head. Perhaps it would be better to leave Carrie’s debut entirely with Gwen. His