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

to settle in. Until dinner, ladies.” He crossed the carpet with long, graceful strides and left the room. He had a natural grace, aided by clothes fashioned by the best tailors. Nicholas made her feel travel-soiled and drab. It was because she was tired. A thorough wash and a change of clothes would see her to rights. But she wished she were more confident of the future.

Bella turned to Carrie, her eyes shining. “Well, what do you make of my guardian? I think he’s splendid.”

Carrie stared at the closed door. “Splendid?” He certainly was in appearance, as was his home. She looked around at the pretty room, the delicate Italian chandelier, the wallpaper in the Chinese style, the silk curtains, and damask sofas, the afternoon sun streaming in through the long windows and spreading warm fingers across the blue and gold carpet. She hadn’t noticed how fine it was because Nicholas’s presence seemed to fill the room.

“… and he acts a little gruff at times,” Bella continued. “But that is because he feels he should.” Bella paused, looking for a response. “I believe he’ll be pleased to share his home with Jeremy and me, don’t you agree?”

“I’m sure he will,” Carrie rushed to reassure her. But she distrusted Bella’s opinion and was slightly unnerved at her rowdy brother living here in this well-ordered estate.

Bella jumped up and tugged on Carrie’s arm. “Come and see your bedchamber. You are so fortunate, Carrie. It overlooks the rose arbor, and you can make out the lake when the sun shines on the water.”

“I shan’t be here for long, dearest,” Carrie felt obliged to remind her as they climbed the marble staircase, crushingly aware of how unhappy Bella would be when she left.

“I know,” Bella said in a mournful tone. “But Nicholas has promised he will take us to London to visit you.”

Carrie paused on a step and stared at Bella. “Do you think he meant it?”

“I think so.” Bella frowned. “Don’t you like him, Carrie?”

“I certainly don’t dislike him,” Carrie said hastily. “I have yet to form an opinion.”

Had Nicholas offered just to appease her sister? Bella had probably prodded him into a declaration. But the House of Lords would require several trips to the city. And surely he would visit his sister, Lady Genevieve, in her Mayfair townhouse. Carrie couldn’t see why he couldn’t bring Bella and Jeremy with him. A little relieved, she continued up the stairs.

Later, when Bella had returned to the schoolroom, Carrie waited for her maid to come and unpack her clothes in her pretty bedchamber decorated in floral, rose pink wallpaper. Whether Nicholas came to see her in London or not was hardly important. She expected to be entirely too busy to notice.

Chapter Four

Candlelight from the silver candelabrum softened the dining room walls papered in dull red and gold chinoiserie. From his position at the end of the table, Nicholas considered the room greatly improved by the additions to his household: Bella in white and Carrie in a flattering gown of primrose with a low neckline. He gave serious attention to his napkin as Abercrombie served the wine.

Nicholas held the crystal glass up to the light. “This wine is corked, Abercrombie. Replace it, will you?”

“I shall attend to it, my lord.” His butler whisked the carafe from the table and left the room.

Nicholas grimaced. He should not have been short with Abercrombie. His butler’s eyesight wasn’t as good as it used to be, and even worse at night. He’d declined the offer of a handsome pension, and Nicholas saw no reason he should retire, although he made sure Abercrombie had few duties to perform after dark.

Bella talked about a puzzle she’d discovered among the books and toys in the schoolroom. “We assembled it as children,” she said. “I wondered why you would have it, Nicholas.”

“My sister’s young son, Bartholomew, stays here occasionally. He’s a cheeky young fellow.” Nicholas was fond of the child. He knew where he was with a five-year-old boy. Youngsters made their thoughts and feelings known.

After the footman served the first course, Nicholas put down his spoon with a sigh. “Trouble in the kitchen, Abercrombie,” he said when his butler appeared with another carafe of wine. “The soup appears to be cold.”

“Take it away,” Abercrombie ordered the footman. “I am sorry, my lord. The chef has had another argument with one of the kitchen staff.”

“Again? Dear heaven. I would expect better service in the army,” Nicholas said. “It serves me right for employing the French chef the Prince of Wales recommended.”

Bella gazed at him owlishly, while Carrie thinned her lips. Their governess had the good sense to lower her head and butter a roll.

Nicholas took himself and the matter in hand. “I must apologize. Dinner will delight the palate, I am sure, when we finally get it. Unless the chef has stabbed the fellow with the carving knife, then it might be cheese and biscuits.”

Bella giggled, and Carrie smiled so sweetly, Nicholas’s heart skipped a beat. He adjusted his neckcloth with a deep frown. Startled, the footman’s hand shook as he removed his soup plate.

As Abercrombie attempted to add water to her wine, Bella placed her hand over her glass. “If I cannot grow used to drinking wine undiluted, how shall I manage when I go to London? I shall get foxed,” she said, appealing to him with big green eyes.

“I am sure you will manage when the time comes.” Nicholas gestured to Abercrombie to continue to pour the water.

“Bella! Where did you hear that language?” Carrie gently scolded her pouting sister.

“Jeremy, of course,” Bella said. “There are several words for being…”

“But we shall not hear them tonight,” Nicholas said. If this continued, he would suffer a bad stomach and have to retire early in his role of aged uncle. Perhaps