“With a warm widow in it, I’m sure,” Merritt added knowingly.
Pearce grinned as he moved toward the door. “Who am I to complain if a beautiful woman wants to comfort a poor soldier recently back from fighting Old Boney?”
“A poor soldier who recently inherited an earldom,” Merritt corrected, which only widened Pearce’s grin.
“That damned title might as well be good for something besides giving me a headache.” He opened the door and amended over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night, “Who am I to complain if a beautiful woman wants to comfort a wealthy earl recently back from fighting in the Lords?”
Then he was gone, the doors closing behind him with a rusty squeal and a banging clatter.
Merritt reached for his jacket and slipped it on. “Pearce complains about that title incessantly.” He tugged his sleeves into place. “But between you and me, I think it might just save him.”
Marcus’s chest clenched. He knew his men had suffered difficulties in readjusting to life in England, but he hadn’t realized that Pearce was struggling as much as Merritt implied.
“If he can’t be a field officer anymore, then the next best thing is overseeing his estate and caring for the village and parish there. It gives him purpose, and we all need that these days.” Merritt hung his cravat around his neck, not bothering to tie it, and mumbled half to himself, “Some of us more than others.”
Marcus frowned. Had he been wrong about Merritt? The man had returned to the law to take up at the bar right where he’d left off six years ago when he joined the Coldstream Guards, and by all accounts, he was successfully proving himself. He had family to support him, a career, a future—
No, Merritt simply needed reassurance. “Don’t worry. You’ll take silk soon.” Marcus carried his glass back to the cabinet to refill it. “And your father will finally be able to brag that his son is a King’s Counsel.”
“I’ve got the law. Pearce has his estate. Clayton has the entire Home Office.” His face softened with concern. “What’s going to save you, General?”
“I don’t need to be saved.” Those words triggered a memory of Danielle, wearing an expression of such bleak misery that it had sliced through him. You misunderstand. I don’t need to be saved… More than she realized. “I need to find John Porter.”
Merritt held his gaze for a long moment, not satisfied with that answer. But he knew not to press and instead turned his attention to finishing his last swallow of brandy.
“But I do need another favor.” Marcus picked up the long strips of cloth that he’d used for mufflers. “Can you hire a couple of men from the old guard to watch over Miss Williams and keep her from harm?” He winced inwardly at the thought of the tongue lashing he’d receive from her if she ever found out that he’d placed guards. “For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t let her know.”
“Of course.” Merritt grinned at his expense. “You should marry this one, General. Sounds like she’s got spine enough to keep you in your place.”
“And how is that a benefit in a wife?” He wrapped his hands again for another set-to with the bag once Merritt left, carefully layering the strips of cloth over his knuckles and tying them off in small knots against his palms.
“It isn’t. Just damn amusing for the rest of us!”
With a slap to Marcus’s back, Merritt strode out the door.
Not bothering to muffle a curse of frustration, Marcus plowed a fist into the bag as hard as he could.
Ten
“But that chicken would not leave the general alone!” Harriett exclaimed to the entire dinner table at Charlton Place as she told a story about the first time she met George Washington. “I think he was in love with the general.”
Dani bit her bottom lip to keep back a laugh. Thankfully, at least, no stray bottoms were involved with this tale.
“When Washington went inside the house, it threw an absolute fit that it couldn’t follow. Flapping its wings, pecking its beak at everyone, crowing and carrying on as if a weasel had gotten into the henhouse. So Washington ordered that the chicken be let inside, and it followed him everywhere!”
Laughter went up from around the table, including from Adam Trousdale, Claudia’s fiancé, who had never met the Williams women before and had no idea what to expect. That he hadn’t run fleeing as fast as he could when the viscountess began telling her stories had certainly earned him favorable points. When he became the brother-in-law to a duke, he would have to interact often with society women at all levels of rank.
“Washington was convinced the chicken was a British spy.”
And all levels of madness.
“They named it Major Andre.”
Even Dani couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping at that. It was the first genuine moment of amusement she’d felt in an evening of nearly unbearable tension between her and Marcus, so intense that surely the others also felt it. The man kept staring at her from the head of the table as if he couldn’t decide whether to throttle her or kiss her.
“Auntie,” she chastised mildly, leaning in close to Harriett, seated beside her.
“You said I couldn’t tell the story about pinching King George’s bottom,” the viscountess countered in a low voice meant only for Dani but which everyone overhead. “You never said anything about Washington and the chicken.”
“Because I didn’t know about this one,” she muttered, “or I would have.”
“Before you’re done,” the viscountess accused, “you’ll have an entire book filled with stories that I’m not allowed to tell.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus laughed.
Dani looked up and froze when she found him watching her. But when she saw the sparkling in his eyes, she smiled at him, happy to find an ally in her embarrassment.
But then his gaze fell to her mouth, and the memory of last night’s kisses returned unbidden and with enough intensity to make her tingle. The tension hummed between them like electricity.
“What happened to the chicken?” Mr. Trousdale asked as he raised his wineglass to his lips, not knowing the viscountess’s stories well enough to avoid stepping into that trap.
She matter-of-factly dabbed her napkin to her lips. “We had it for dinner.”
He choked on his wine. “You’re making that up!”
Her aunt feigned insult. “Would I lie about the fate of Major Andre?”
“To finish a good story?” Claudia piped up from across the table. “Yes, you would.”
As the three of them argued good-naturedly about chicken dinners and American rebels, Dani took another glance at Marcus, this one curious as she tried once more to fathom why he insisted that they still have this dinner, even after all of last night’s revelations.
But this time when he smiled at her, she didn’t look away. Her pulse surged at that subtle connection between them. Wariness lingered inside her because she still expected him to corner her and interrogate her more about Elise and Nightingale, but now there was…curiosity. About her.
She’d rather have had his ire. Anger she knew how to deal with, while his pointed interest in her as a woman completely undid her.
Needing air—and distance from his dark stare—she placed her napkin on the table. “And on that, Claudia, perhaps you should take us all through to the drawing room so we can change the conversation to the reason we’re here tonight.” She flashed Claudia a happy smile. “Your upcoming wedding.”
“Hear, hear!” Harriett seconded.
While Marcus assisted Harriett from her chair and Mr. Trousdale helped Claudia from hers, Dani took the opportunity to slip quickly from the room. She needed a few moments to herself, to attempt to relax before subjecting herself to the rest of the evening under Marcus’s dark stare. She also desperately needed to collect her thoughts so that she could keep her wits about her and prevent him from c
atching her alone, when he would undoubtedly press her for more information about Nightingale. Information she refused to give.
And why not sneak upstairs to look in on Pippa in the nursery while she was here? Oh, how she missed that precious little girl!
“Danielle!” Claudia ran down the hallway after her. When she reached Dani, she linked their arms. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Worry tightened her belly. “What’s wrong?”
Claudia placed a finger to her lips and glanced up and down the hall to make certain no one saw, then reached for the nearest door. “In here.” She led Dani into Marcus’s study, which was lit by a single lamp and the mellow glow of a banked fire. She closed the door to ensure their privacy and sent wariness spiraling through Dani when she leaned back against the door, as if she were afraid Dani might go running out. Did she know about last night with her brother?
Or worse…had Marcus told Claudia the truth about Elise’s death?
“You know how much you mean to me,” Claudia announced in a nervous rush. “You’re like a sister to me.”
“I feel the same.”
“And I’m so pleased!” Claudia surprised the daylights out of Dani by throwing her arms around her and hugging her tightly.
“Oh?” Dani stiffened.
Claudia nodded as she took both of Dani’s hands in hers and squeezed them. “Having you and the viscountess help me with my wedding like this is such a relief. You have no idea how worried I was that Marcus would try to interfere with it. If he had his way, we’d be married in some dank parish church without any wedding breakfast or party whatsoever.”
“I doubt that.”
Claudia silently arched a brow in challenge.
“I don’t believe the church would be dank,” Dani corrected with a knowing smile, collaborating in Claudia’s characterization of her brother.
“No dank churches, no dour vicars…and an absolutely grand party!” She bounced with happiness. “You will help me plan every detail, won’t you?”
“Well, the viscountess would be better at planning a party than I would be. But I will help you secure the church and vicar.” Or more than likely, once her aunt was given free rein, St Paul’s Cathedral and the archbishop of Canterbury.
“Thank you!” Another tight hug. When she pulled back this time, a seriousness that made Dani uneasy darkened her face. “There’s one more thing.”
“Oh?”
“Marcus is going to walk me down the aisle, of course, and Pippa’s going to be my flower girl.” Claudia hesitated before adding, “And if Elise were here, she would have been my matron of honor.”
Grief panged hollowly in Dani’s chest.
She squeezed Dani’s hands again and said in hesitant stops and starts, “So I want to ask you…if you would…as my honorary sister…be my maid of honor.”
Her throat stung with emotion. “I would be delighted.”
Another hug, this one lingering, most likely so that both women had the time to control the tears threatening at their lashes.
“I’m worried about Marcus,” Claudia whispered, taking the conversation in a new direction without warning. “Truly worried.”
Surprise darted through Dani. Slowly, she pulled out of the hug and cupped Claudia’s face between her hands. “He’s been through a lot. But now that he’s home, everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“It won’t be,” she whispered, her face long. “He’s so distant these days. He seems lonely, even when he’s in the same room with us. It’s as if—as if he draws back into himself, as if his mind goes some place far away. Surely you saw it for yourself tonight during dinner.”
Dani had. But unlike the others, she knew exactly where he’d gone in his mind. Into the private hell she’d helped cast him into.
“He hasn’t yet adjusted to being home.” She mustered a reassuring smile. “Just give him time.”
“No, it’s not that.” Claudia turned away and aimlessly crossed to the large desk to run her fingers over the smooth desktop. A worried frown pulled at her brow. “He seems…lost. As if his life has no meaning.”
“He has his family,” Dani reminded her.
“It isn’t enough. Don’t misunderstand me. He’s wonderful with Pippa and is the best brother I could have ever hoped for, and he’s taking all this wedding and marriage news in stride as best he can. But he needs other things to fill his life beyond Charlton Place—important things. And not even a new dukedom or a seat in Parliament seems to make up for what he’s missing.” Inhaling a tremulous breath, she turned toward Dani, a pleading expression darkening her face. “Will you help him?”
That question knocked the air from her lungs. “Me?” she squeaked out. “What do I know about retired soldiers?”
“Nothing.” Claudia shrugged. “Which makes you perfect for it. He doesn’t need someone who treats him like a general or a war hero—he gets enough of that already and is thoroughly sick of it. And he definitely doesn’t need to be treated like a duke. The society sycophants are already falling all over themselves to become ingratiated with him.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “He has me and Pippa, so he doesn’t need anyone who will treat him like a brother either.”
Well, that would be an easy one to avoid. Dani’s thoughts of Marcus certainly weren’t brotherly.
“He needs someone to hold his feet to the fire, who will stand up to him and read him the riot act if he deserves it. Someone who will push him to find that new purpose.” In exasperation, Claudia dropped her hands to her sides and stared pleadingly at Dani, as if willing her to understand. “He needs to be rescued from himself, and you’re the perfect one to do it.”
Dani shook her head. “What you’re asking…” It was one very big favor, and more of an uphill battle than Claudia realized, given what had happened last night. Dani couldn’t bear to spend more time with Marcus, which she would have to do to fulfill Claudia’s wishes. No, if she were to continue her work, then she needed to stay as far away from him as possible. Meaningful life be damned.
“I know. And I wouldn’t ask it of you if I had anyone else to turn to.” Her eyes darkened with worry. “But you know how my brother is.”
Dani once thought she did. Now, though, she wasn’t at all certain.
“At the very least please help me to distract him until after the wedding.”
She bit her lip. Oh, this wasn’t at all a good idea… “I’ll help however I can,” she vaguely offered, her resolve vanishing beneath Claudia’s pleading expression. “But I make no promises.”
“Thank you! You have no idea how relieved this makes me. With you looking after him, Marcus is now one less problem I have to worry about.”
Hmm. That was yet to be seen.
Claudia kissed both of Dani’s cheeks, then bounced over to the door. “I’m going to dash upstairs to peek in on Pippa. I promised her that I’d stop up after dinner. I’ll be back in a moment, and then we can discuss flowers for the wedding. I want hundreds of white roses!”
Then she was gone, slipping into the hall and closing the door after herself.
Dani rolled her eyes heavenward. Dear Lord, what had she gotten herself into now?
Pressing her hand to her forehead, she began to pace the large room, now needing to burn off her uneasiness even more than before. Help Marcus Braddock to find purpose in his civilian life? What a laugh! Even if the man were willing to accept help, which he would certainly not be willing to do, she was the absolutely most wrong person in the world for the job.
If he ever found out what she’d just agreed to—heaven help her. But her acquiescence had put Claudia at ease. Given how nervous and emotional she would become as her wedding day drew nearer, this was the least Dani could do for her.
And if there was any bright spot to this fiasco—and she wasn’t at all certain there was, given how Claudia would now
expect her to spend more time with Marcus while Dani would do everything she could to avoid him—at least no one would suspect anything more between them than distant friendship. To the world, they would be nothing more than two people forced together by Claudia’s wedding. Certainly not two people who were hiding secrets of life and death, who had so shamelessly enjoyed being in each other’s arms.
The door opened behind her with a soft click, and her shoulders sagged. Claudia was back, most likely having forgotten some other promise she’d intended to wrangle out of Dani.
But she didn’t have the strength for more right then. Heaving out a long exhale of exasperation, she faced the door. “Claudia, I don’t—”
She froze. Not Claudia.
Marcus.
He stood in the doorway, surprised to find her here. Alone. But of course he was. After all, Dani had been as thick as thieves with Claudia and Harriett tonight, not moving from either lady’s side for fear of exactly this happening—finding herself alone with Marcus. She’d wanted to avoid at all costs a continuation of their last conversation in the carriage.
Apparently, fate was out to get her.
He stepped into the room and closed the door. But when he stalked slowly toward her, his dark gaze daring to trail over her and heating her skin everywhere he looked, it wasn’t panic that spiraled through her but something else just as intense, just as unsettling.
“If you’re looking for Claudia,” she interjected before he could speak, “she’s gone up to check on Pippa.”
“I wasn’t.”
When he stopped in front of her, she lifted her chin, readying for battle. “If you were looking for me, then you should know that I—”
“I wasn’t,” he repeated with a lift of his brow.
Well, that stung. Yet it wasn’t enough to tamp down her suspicions. “Then why are you here?”
In answer, he stepped around her to the liquor cabinet and held up a bottle. “The best port in the house. If Trousdale and I are to be subjected to talk of weddings and trousseaus for the remainder of the evening, then we’ll need to be properly fortified for it.”
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