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

Nicholas groaned inwardly. “Dare I ask why?”

“She is a great help in a crisis. Mrs. Barns, the vicar’s wife, says so. But Carrie is exceedingly fond of poetry.”

“I see,” he said carefully, although he didn’t at all. Struggling with a poet’s vague intent was a complete waste of time in his estimation. He much preferred a book on history. “I’m sure there are many gentlemen who will share her interest.”

“I imagine so.” Having finished her crumpet, Bella selected a jam tartlet and took a dainty bite. “But Carrie never seems to see them.”

Nicholas took a long sip of reviving tea. With a swallow, he ventured where he feared he should not dare. “See whom exactly?”

“Gentlemen.” Bella cocked her head at him as if he would understand, but he remained at a complete loss. “They try to get Carrie’s attention wherever she goes and are disappointed when she ignores them. It’s not that she’s rude or standoffish. She’s always polite, but Carrie says no man could ever measure up to Lord Byron.”

Nicholas cast a longing eye at the crystal decanter of golden liquid on the drinks tray.

“Miss Leeming will arrive on Friday,” Miss Scotsdale said. “And if I may venture an opinion, my lord, a firm hand is needed with the children.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?”

“Oh, Scotty, you always say that, but you spoil us all,” Bella said, seemingly unruffled by the criticism as she reached for another tartlet. “I can’t wait to see the estate,” she said to Nicholas. “Will you show us around after Carrie arrives?”

“I look forward to it.” Nicholas put down his cup and stood. “Welcome to Elm Park. If you’ll excuse me, ladies, correspondence awaits my attention. My butler, Abercrombie, will send a maid to show you to your rooms. I shall see you at dinner.”

“Can we play cards after dinner? Do you play snap?”

“As you shall be with me for some time, I am confident you will not only teach me the game but trounce me roundly.”

Bella giggled.

Relieved to see no further sign of tears, Nicholas left the room. His secretary awaited him in the library. “Leave the post for a moment, Paul, I have a letter to write.” He seated himself at his desk and drew a fresh sheet of bond from the drawer, then sharpened his nib.

He would appeal to his sister, Gwen, to visit him for a short stay. Her husband, Winston, wouldn’t like it, as he’d already agreed to his wife spending a Season in London as Caroline’s chaperone while he remained at their estate with Bartholomew, their small son. Nicholas stroked his taut chin with finger and thumb. It couldn’t be helped. Winston would have to surrender his wife for a few days more. This was an emergency.

Chapter Two

The Vicarage, Harrogate, Yorkshire

Carrie left the sickroom and descended the stairs. “Emily is so much better today,” she told the children’s doting mother, who was in the kitchen with the cook. “Her fever has gone, and she declares she is hungry.”

Mrs. Barns wiped her hands on her apron. “I am about to take the invalids up some soup. You have been such a dear, Caroline. We’ve had you shut indoors for days. Go for a stroll in the fresh air before dinner, it will put the roses back in your cheeks.”

“I shall, Mrs. Barns.”

Pleased to be outdoors, Carrie roamed the rectory garden. She rubbed her arms in her thin pelisse, for the weather was still crisp in Yorkshire. That it would be warmer in Surrey gave her little pleasure. She met Lord Pennington, briefly, years ago. He hadn’t been the marquess then, for his father and brother were still alive. He’d revealed little interest in them and remained shut up in the library with her father for the duration of his visit while they signed documents.

 While they were out inspecting her father’s horses, Carrie had foraged among the papers on the desk of her father’s secretary and deciphered the meaning of those documents. She’d been horror-struck to read that Papa had made this stranger their guardian. She’d despised the captain, whom she saw as the harbinger of disaster. But eventually came to realize how unfair that was. Whether those papers were signed made little difference. Papa changed.

He no longer talked of their planned trip to Greece after the war ended. He dismissed her complaints about how young gentlemen made the grand tour, while few women ever left English shores when, before his illness, he was sympathetic. As soon as the ink was dry on the agreement, he became fixated upon her marrying. How she must go to London for a Season with Aunt Penelope when she came of age. Once she turned seventeen, she resisted, and as he grew weaker, he seemed grateful to have her remain by his side. But toward the end of his life, Papa made her promise she would go to London to find a husband when Lord Pennington could arrange it.

Carrie trailed along the paths beneath the trees. Who was Lord Pennington, really? She hated to have to depend on a virtual stranger. Experiences in the war with France would have hardened him. It was her understanding that gentlemen such as he engaged in their own pursuits, and some were rakes who cared for nothing but their own pleasure. He wasn’t much over thirty and unmarried. How could he possibly understand the needs of a young girl like Bella or a boy of Jeremy’s age? Would he push her into marriage with someone she didn’t like?

While she hoped to love her husband, she must choose him carefully. Someone who would allow her to care for her brother and sister. Would the gentlemen in London be different? At the Harrogate and York assemblies, the men were boorish,