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

From across the table, Carrie’s eyes sought his with a look he struggled to decipher. That firm chin. Did she think he would send her straight back? Nevertheless, his heart leaped happily to see her. He gazed down at his half-eaten trout, then faced with its glassy eye, pushed it away and wondered idly what course his chef’s revenge would take.

Gwen, always a charming and inventive hostess, chatted with Lady Penelope about the relevance of pineapples decorating table displays. “I saw one recently taking pride of place among the fruit. It was a horrid brown color and looked quite rotten.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine why they are so treasured.”

“Anything from warm exotic climes and rarely found in London is prized,” Aunt Penelope said. “I blame the weather. We English always gravitate toward the sun. As if it has healing properties. Nonsense. It merely gives a woman a wrinkled complexion like an old saddle.”

Gwen dipped her head. Nicholas took a quick sip of wine before he choked on a piece of broiled chicken. When it was safe to look up, he caught Carrie’s amused gaze.

***

In the drawing room, while coffee was served, Bella began a game of charades despite the assembled party’s disinterest. She touched her nose to denote a person, but the rest became confused. It was impossible to guess who it was, for she fell about giggling, and Jeremy complained.

So happy to be here, Carrie’s toes almost curled in her shoes. But how foolish. Nicholas would return her to London before the week was out.

“Which person is Bella trying to convey?” Nicholas asked, sitting down beside Carrie on the sofa. “I’m afraid I’m not good at this game.”

She laughed. “I don’t know either. Bella,” she called. “We give up. Who is it?”

“Abercrombie,” she said, laughing. “When he looks most displeased.”

Scotty tucked her knitting away and rose from her chair, looking meaningfully at her charge.

“Bella, Jeremy, it is time for you to go to bed,” Carrie said.

“Lady Penelope? Shall we play a hand of whist?” Nicholas asked after the children had left.

Her ladyship waved her fan languidly. “One game before I retire.”

Nicholas went to the games table and removed the cards from the drawer. They all sat down as he shuffled.

“I am exhausted,” Gwen declared when the game was over and followed Lady Penelope from the room.

Carrie sat with Nicholas, drinking coffee while he had a glass of port. It was quiet and peaceful, the only sound the crackle of a small fire in the grate. She rose and went to the window. Outside, a footman, carrying a rifle, roamed the lawn.

She turned back to Nicholas. “One of your footmen is outside. He is armed. Do you expect trouble?”

“Merely a precaution.”

“Is it because you’re worried about Simon? I can’t imagine he would attack us in our beds.”

“I agree. I’m probably overly cautious.” He finished his port and put down the glass. “You should go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“It has.” She slipped into the chair beside him again, wanting to be close to him. “If you’re not planning to retire, would you like to talk for a while?”

He smiled. “Was it a good journey?”

“Except for the delay when a horse required a new shoe. I am pleased to be here. It’s especially heartwarming to find Bella and Jeremy less distressed than when I left,” she confessed.

“You have only been away for a few days.” He smiled wryly. “Aren’t you eager to go back to London? You will be missed.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “There is no one there I shall miss.”

“Not yet, perhaps. What about Ludlow? Nice fellow. You seemed to like him.”

“He told me you were very attentive to his sister some years ago. They hoped you would marry her, and now have hopes for his younger sister, Mary.” She tilted her head. “Or perhaps it’s the lady you took into supper? You seemed on very good terms.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I trust you’re not implying they have hopes of me marrying Mary. Perish the thought. Now shall we talk of something else?”

She laughed. “Very well. But that’s hardly fair, is it? When you wish to discuss my suitors.”

“Talking of fairness, was it fair to drag Gwen back here?”

She bit her lip. “No. I am sorry, but I think she’s pleased to go home for a visit. I am frightened, Nicholas. Does Uncle Simon really wish to harm Jeremy?”

“There’s no evidence he has any such plan. But we will thwart any attempt he makes to try to see them. You must trust me.”

She looked at her hands. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the world I trust more than you.” She looked up at him, his eyes dark and troubled in the candlelight. “But it was impossible to remain in London, not knowing what was occurring here. I couldn’t have enjoyed myself. And I might be of help to you.” She searched for signs his resistance weakened.

“How?”

“Another pair of eyes. Lady Penelope will not be of much help, and Scotty suffers from pains in her knees.”

“It might take weeks to resolve this problem with Simon. I’m not even sure I’ll send Jeremy back to school. It would be better for you in London. You can dance with Phillip Ludlow.”

She scowled. “What makes you think I want to dance with him.”

“Poor Ludlow. Is he so bad? You seemed to like him.”

“He is a decent man.” She forced a smile. “He has written an ode to my beauty. I like him a great deal better than some.”

“Then, when you return, you can enjoy the attention of the other keen swains. They all crowd around you like bees to honey.”

She glanced sharply up at him. Might he be jealous?

“You surely can’t prefer to