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

people walked by them. “You owed the owner of the club who was murdered a lot of money, did you not? And the men they convicted and hanged were friends of yours.”

“I don’t intend to stand here and explain myself to you. I shall see my niece and nephew, and I doubt you can prevent me.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” Nicholas said. “If you try, I’ll set Bow Street onto you. I’m sure it would please them to bring you in for a chat.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Nicholas’s spine stiffened. “Is that a threat? I don’t take kindly to threats. I’ve dealt with men far more dangerous than you.”

“Wartime is different. They would have fought with honor, Pennington. I am a dirty fighter, as you will no doubt find out.” He swiveled on his heel and strode away.

Nicholas uncoiled his fists as Simon left the ballroom. He’d longed to take a poke at the scoundrel. And he might have that pleasure before long. But the man’s declaration of future interference left him uneasy. He couldn’t afford to ignore a threat from such a man with his history of violence. The one truthful thing Simon said was that he wouldn’t play fair. Simon was as evil as the day was long. And that made him dangerous.

Nicholas went in search of his sister. He hailed her where she stood with a group of friends.

Gwen excused herself and came to him. “Carrie is in the supper room with Mr. Ludlow.”

“I know.” He explained his concerns to her.

“Simon Leeming is here?” she asked, wide-eyed. “I thought he didn’t dare show his face in England.”

“Well, he has decided to. A plan to get his hands on a good deal of money has made taking the risk worthwhile. It appears he has left the ball. But should he return, keep him and his friend, Bettencourt, away from Carrie. I’ll explain it to her later. I am leaving now and will drive to Kent tomorrow.”

“Why Kent?”

“To fetch Carrie’s great aunt, Penelope, and remove her to Elm Park.”

“But why?”

He swept a hand across his hair. “It’s a hunch. Stop questioning me, Gwen, please, and do as I say.”

“Very well, but…”

“Tell Carrie I’ve been called home to sort out a matter with my bailiff. Reassure her it isn’t on Bella or Jeremy’s account. I don’t want her to worry.”

“She will, though. Carrie is not a fool.”

“I know.” Nicholas put a hand on her arm. “I’m confident you can deal with this. And please know how grateful I am, Gwen.”

Gwen waved her hand. “Go then, and don’t worry, I’ll look after Carrie.”

Nicholas spoke briefly to Charles and Nellie, then went to find his host and hostess.

Half an hour later, he was back at Pennington Court seated at his desk, scrawling a note. He blotted it and rang for his footman.

“Gerald, first thing tomorrow, I want you to ride to Elm Park and give this letter to my secretary. Tell him I shall follow directly. Abercrombie is to instruct the housekeeper to prepare rooms for Lady Penelope Grantly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I require the coach tomorrow morning at seven o’clock. Advise the coachman.”

With only a few hours left until dawn, Nicholas gave up on sleep, his mind too restless. He sat with a book he failed to read on his lap as the candle guttered. His thoughts kept returning to Carrie. She had smiled at Ludlow in such a warm manner. Ludlow was a decent man, in his late twenties, from a good family. Nicholas could not object if she wished to wed him. Their marriage would bring this uncomfortable business to a satisfactory end and release him from a challenging commitment. He could hardly wish for better. And yet, he felt strangely hollow. As if a part of him was in danger of being ripped away.

***

Mr. Ludlow’s attitude toward Nicholas had not escaped Carrie’s notice. His voice had risen a notch or two, and he’d bowed low. Nicholas knew him and expressed no disapproval or consternation at her having supper with him. She felt ridiculously flat. “Lord Pennington knows your sister?”

Ludlow wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Indeed. How kind of him to remember Ellen. And to ask after her! When she was first out, the marquess favored her with a dance at several balls. My family was hopeful something might come of it. It didn’t, and Ellen has been married now for several years.” He smiled, looking boyish. “My younger sister, Mary, comes out next year. A pretty girl.” He smiled. “But I digress. Miss Leeming, I wonder if I might be permitted to call on you? I had hoped to speak to Lord Pennington, but it appears not to be the right time. Perhaps I should write to him?”

“Of course, Lord Ludlow.”

“I shall pen an ode to your beauty, Miss Leeming.”

“How kind. I look forward to reading it.”

“I hope that…”

What Ludlow hoped for went over Carrie’s head. Her uncle’s friend, Monsieur Bettencourt, had entered the room and crossed the floor toward them. She had promised to dance with him. Where had Nicholas taken himself off to? She could hardly cut her uncle’s friend. It would be considered unforgivably rude. And why should she? As usual, Nicholas failed to explain his reasons. What was his aversion to her uncle, apart from her father not caring for him? Both Uncle Simon and Monsieur Bettencourt had pleasing manners. And although she didn’t really know her uncle, he was a member of the family.

Gwen appeared at the door. She darted through the crowd, looking elegant despite her haste. Smiling, she greeted those who called after her and reached Carrie just before Monsieur Bettencourt did. She grasped Carrie by the elbow. “I am sorry, Mr. Ludlow, you must excuse us. We are needed elsewhere.”