Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2)

by Maggi Andersen

  Her gaze was constantly drawn to him. Nicholas looked so large sprawled over the seat, his long legs arranged so as not to touch hers. His stubborn refusal to allow her to stay a few more days annoyed her. She sensed he wanted her to and was even tempted to agree, but for Miss Carswell and his infuriating sense of honor.

  She frowned at him.

  When he raised his eyebrows in response, she turned to gaze out the window as they passed through the village.

  “Was it one of your horses trampling Miss Carswell’s garden?” she asked.

  “No. Major Willington’s gelding from the Grange. Apparently, the animal often escapes. They have yet to discover how.”

  “Oh.”

  “Willington has promised to restore Miss Carswell’s gardens to rights.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I arranged delivery of a box of my chef’s chocolate bonbons,” he said. “I was a little short with her.”

  Relenting, she smiled. “That was kind of you, Nicholas.”

  “I hope it doesn’t encourage the woman.” A slight smile lifted his lips. “She might start calling in with baked offerings. It would outrage Armand.”

  Carrie laughed. She wasn’t entirely in sympathy with Miss Carswell at this moment, but she had no intention of telling him.

  He leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “It is good to hear you laugh, Carrie. Everyone behaved as if I’m taking you to the gallows last night. And this morning, I felt like a fiend. You’re not unhappy, are you?”

  She shook her head and tucked her handkerchief into her reticule. “Forgive me. I was determined not to be a watering pot. I shall be perfectly at ease in London. It is exciting, and I have Gwen to look out for me, so I have no concerns.”

  “Your debut will be a great success. Of that, I am certain.”

  “I can barely wait for my first ball. I hope to dance every dance.”

  “And so you will. Except for the waltz, of course. Not until you’re presented.”

  She glanced up at him. Did he not wish her to dance the waltz?

  “I’m told they permit the waltz at private balls under certain circumstances. Gwen can find me a suitable partner.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Someone in his dotage could suffice.”

  “Oh, I hope not. I expect many handsome gentlemen in London for the Season.”

  His brow creased. “And some of them rakes. But I’m confident my sister will keep them at bay.”

  “Rakes? I thought they were out of a storybook.”

  “No, rakes and fortune hunters are quite real. Men who are after your dowry, or…” He glanced at Anna, whose eyes were closed, but she was probably listening to every word.

  “The rake was charming in a book I read. Perhaps not all of them have ill intentions?” Carrie prompted as she searched for a sign he was jealous.

  “All of them,” he said shortly. “I will give any unsuitable gentlemen seeking your hand short shrift. Gwen will keep me informed,” he said. “We have a long distance to travel before we reach the coaching inn.” He tilted his head toward her slumbering maid. “We had a very early start, and travel is fatiguing. I suggest you rest, too.”

  He pushed his hat back, folded his arms again, and closed his eyes.

  Carrie frowned at him. Nicholas was being annoyingly evasive. Would he consider her wishes on the matter? He had never actually said. She wanted to tell him about the sort of man she’d dreamed of marrying. Not just someone who would care for her siblings, but one who would not disappear to his club every evening or take a mistress. A man who would include her in his life, as her father had her mother, and take her with him on journeys to interesting foreign climes as Papa had done.

  Her fingers itched to prod Nicholas, for he used this excuse to escape her questions. Well, it was a long trip to London he couldn’t avoid her forever. She studied his lean face, which had become familiar and dear to her, his brow framed by wavy dark hair, his noble nose, his full bottom lip. What would he do should she lean across and kiss him? Would he be shocked and push her away? Or would he draw her close and kiss her back?

  He would rebuff her, she decided. His firm jaw had a stubborn cast. Not a man easily swayed from a decision he considered right. He could be frightfully stubborn then, she thought ruefully. And his gray eyes would become steely.

  She sighed. If only he’d fallen in love with her. But he had not. Nor was she entirely sure of her own feelings. She wondered again if his patience with Bella and Jeremy and his sympathy and support had beguiled her. She only knew she would miss him terribly, and the thought caused a hitch in her breath.

  Perhaps he really didn’t need a wife. He was so self-contained. And she would shrivel and die if her husband didn’t need her. She carefully removed her new Italian straw bonnet, arranged the apple green ribbons which matched those on her pelisse, and placed the hat on the seat beside her. If she was a woman worth her salt, as her father used to say… She mused for several minutes, finding no obvious way forward, except that it was probably wise to leave Elm Park and seek the answers in London.

  Although a sharp wind blew the trees about, it was warm inside the carriage. She grew tired of the vista of green pastures dotted with oaks and sheep passing by the window and yawned, eyelids heavy, as the rocking of the well-sprung carriage lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  The coach jounced on its springs, negotiating a sharp bend. Nicholas opened his eyes and set his hat back on his head. He’d had no intention of sleeping. He always remained alert, even though his armed footman sat beside his coachmen. Nicholas could hardly embark on the clarification of a rake’s devilish practices, not while in a carriage with Carrie’s maid. And Carrie had that look in her eyes which he’d come to recognize. She would not give up until he explained every sordid detail.

  Across from him, Carrie leaned against her maid’s shoulder. Both were asleep. Everything she’d been through exhausted her, evident by the bluish cast beneath her lovely eyes. It was difficult for her to leave Bella and Jeremy, although she’d tried to hide her distress from them. He appreciated her grit and hoped the man she married would not only value her for her beauty. Nicholas would do his best to find a man of such sterling character. Not always easy among the younger gentlemen; many were vain, selfish, and idle. But Max’s wish that she marry a man young enough to share her dreams narrowed the field somewhat.

  He must return to Elm Park before Bella and Jeremy tested his nerve again, but he wasn’t keen to leave London so soon. What he hadn’t wished to go into with Carrie was how scoundrels looked for a chance to ensnare a young woman from a good family with a handsome dowry. Carrie was not a giddy young girl, but she was inexperienced. A charming rake could trap a debutante into an indiscretion and then force her into wedlock. Once their virginity was plundered, a rascal could use the fact for his own scurrilous ends, or he might just take her for the pleasure of it.

  The distaste he felt for these men, should they attempt such a thing with Carrie, would provoke him into a duel to the death in Hyde Park. Bemused, Nicholas shook his head. Perhaps it would be better to leave Carrie’s debut entirely with Gwen. His sister was a wise soul.

  Carrie opened her eyes. She yawned behind her gloved hand. “Where are we?”

  “Not far from the inn where we change the horses. We’ll take luncheon there.”

  “Oh, good. I am hungry. How long will you be in London, Nicholas?”

  “A couple of days. I’d much prefer to stay longer, to see you settled.”

  She arranged the crushed folds of her carriage gown. “You need not worry. I shall manage perfectly well. Although I regret to have taken your sister from her family.”

  “Gwen enjoys the London Season. But her husband, Winston, doesn’t quite share her enthusiasm.” He paused. “I have asked her to write to me if she’s uneasy about a gentleman’s attention toward you.”

  Carrie’s busy hands faltered. “I am perfectly aware of the proprieties. Please al
low me to make my own judgments.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Of course, but your father wished me…” he began, then immediately saw his error, for she scowled.

  “My father’s wish was for you to be guardian to Bella and Jeremy, while I am old enough to stand on my own feet.” A flush tinged her cheeks. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Nicholas. You know I am not.”

  What happened for her to become so prickly and defiant? Did she consider him no longer necessary in her life? He had known that day would come, but not so soon. Not until he gave her away at the church... He frowned, disliking the image. “My position requires me to decide certain matters for you, at least until your future rests in your husband’s hands,” he said more forcefully than perhaps he should have.

  “I rely on your advice and assistance, of course,” she said briskly. “The marriage settlements and so forth.”

  “I intend to make a thorough investigation of any man who offers for you, Carrie,” he said. “I am more experienced in these affairs.”

  “Women are kept in ignorance of anything important, as if we don’t have a rational thought in our heads. I should like to have more say in my future.” She smoothed her gloves. “I’m told I have a good deal of commonsense, at least allow me that.”

  “But I do. And I have no intention of accepting an offer for you if you don’t wish to marry the fellow,” he said mildly. Hadn’t Gwen espoused precisely the same concerns to their father before she married Winston? He’d heard no such complaints since. She adored her husband and relied on him. But Winston also relied on Gwen. She was his world.

  Disliking the direction this conversation took, he smiled. “After you’re married, you will wish to seek your husband’s guidance in certain matters.”

  Carrie’s lips firmed, and she folded her arms.

  Nicholas sighed. She was nervous and hungry. Her good nature would reassert itself after luncheon.

  A short time later, the coach pulled into the inn’s forecourt. Anna stirred. Anything he might have wished to say to improve things between him and Carrie must wait. But he wasn’t entirely sure he could, for he was blue devilled by the change in her.

  Was it possible she could shed him like an old coat? It astonished him how much it hurt when a short few weeks ago he would have welcomed it.

  He had expected none of this to be easy. He would seek the advice of his friend, Charles, Duke of Shewsbury. Nicholas had been the best man at his and Nellie’s wedding. They were still a blissfully happy couple, despite being virtual strangers when first they married. Might Charles have some wise advice to offer in his quest for a stalwart husband for Carrie?

  ***

  As the coach drew to a stop, Carrie put on her bonnet, fumbling with the ribbons.

  “Allow me.” Nicholas leaned forward and gently removed the ribbons from her fingers. He tied them in a careful bow to one side of her chin, with great expertise. She wondered how many times he’d done up or undone a woman’s apparel. Such a thought was unworthy of her.

  Nicholas’s face came close to hers. Her pulse raced. She shouldn’t feel this way when his look of concentration told her she meant nothing more to him than any untidy young woman might. But oh, how gently his gloved fingers grazed her chin.

  After his look of satisfaction at his handiwork, she had the foolish impulse to poke her tongue out at him. Carrie clamped her lips. She’d thought herself grown up these past few years, having taken on so much since her father grew ill. It was Nicholas, she decided. He had this effect on her. He made her argumentative, although she wasn’t entirely sure what it was she wished to argue about. Only that she was frustrated and unhappy, and quite unfairly, she blamed him. Once he left her in London, her level-headedness would return.

  Nicholas opened the door, and his footman lowered the steps.

  Seeking to tidy themselves, she and Anna were directed upstairs, while Nicholas saw to his new team that had been sent on ahead. She stood before the mirror while she freshened herself. How grubby she felt, her carriage gown sadly crumpled. Her eyes in the glass looked dark and troubled. She was ashamed of her outburst. What had got into her? Nicholas did not deserve her flash of temper. Being miserable, tired, and more than a little nervous was no excuse. But he had not once asked her what she wanted, so intent was he on marrying her off and handing control of her life to a husband.

  Being blessed with an affectionate, generous father who appreciated her made her expect the same from the gentleman she married. But how could she be sure of any man until she lived with him? What if this husband, who was beyond her imagining, did as she feared and refused to allow Bella to live with them? Or for her to see her brother? What if he was unkind to them or his family were? Mama-in-laws could be fearful creatures who could still control some sons. Life would be very bleak.

  She gathered up her things to return downstairs with Anna, who waited for her in the passage.

  “I hope the food is tasty,” her maid said as they descended the stairs. “One can never be sure at inns. The meals were always good at Elm Park.”

  “Yes, everything was wonderful at Elm Park,” Carrie said with a pang of anguish. How were Bella and Jeremy faring? Were they still upset? She hoped they had been given their puppies to love.

  Nicholas waited at the door leading into the dining room. His thoughtful gaze rested on her.

  With an appeasing smile, she walked by him into the room filled with the delicious aroma of roasting pork. She took the seat Nicholas drew out for her. This sad ache in her chest must surely leave her once she became accustomed to life in London.

  The proprietor bustled over to take their order. Carrie forced herself to concentrate and ordered the broccoli soup, although she’d lost her appetite.

  “We did not have our discussion of Keats’s poetry,” she said as Nicholas poured her a glass of wine.

  “I must have forgotten.”

  “You did no such thing,” Carrie challenged him. She hoped to get a rise out of him, and they could laugh about it. It would restore good feelings between them. “You avoided it on purpose.”

  “How poor is your opinion of me,” he said ruefully.

  She laughed. “You, sir, are a scoundrel.”

  He smiled. “The fair sex can be so harsh on us, poor gentlemen.”

  “Poor, indeed,” she huffed.

  Nicholas had the gall to wink at Anna, who traitorously giggled.

  The excellent pork and potatoes which followed warmed her and made her think more clearly. Had she disappointed him? She would hate that more than anything. Trouble was, she feared she would do so again because he made her so frustrated. When her stomach coiled in a knot, she wanted to throw herself against him and pummel his chest. She wanted him to know she loved him. The shock of admitting her true feelings rendered her silent.

  They returned to the coach, the fresh horses held in check by the coachman. Although the coach springs were excellent, Carrie was stiff and sore. It would be some hours before they reached the outskirts of London.

  While Nicholas had words with the ostler and paid their bill, she and Anna attempted to make themselves comfortable with carriage rugs. “You must be so excited to be going to London at last,” Anna said, tucking away a bandbox.

  “I can hardly wait,” Carrie said as Nicholas took his seat. “I just know I’m going to have a wonderful time.” She patted the maid’s arm. “And perhaps there’s a handsome footman there to flirt with you.”

  Anna put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Oh, no. They do not permit such behavior from servants.”

  “What nonsense, Anna. Several servants married at Leeming. Father used to say it was something in the water.”

  When Nicholas chuckled, Carrie looked into his laughing eyes and felt a good deal better.

  “I read Keats’s Endymion last night,” Nicholas said, surprising her.

  She sat forward. “You did? What did you think of it?”

  “Didn’t the goddess Selene’s kiss p
ut Endymion to sleep forever? I don’t find that particularly appealing.”

  She frowned at him. “Well, if you will not discuss the poem sensibly.”

  “I found Keats’s poem incoherent in its style and somewhat whimsical. The idea of searching and finding an ideal love based on a Greek myth bears no relation to life.”

  “Your reaction doesn’t surprise me. But the theme of the poem is ideal beauty,” Carrie protested. “Keats says ‘a thing of beauty is a joy forever.’ Beauty is a constant source of happiness and pleasure. It is timeless.”

  “Beauty can be what we see beyond this window, nature in its spring finery. It can be the love of a newborn child. Even a foal. In this poem, Keats searches for joy in the wrong place to ease discontentment. Life is real, Carrie. You know that as well as I.”

  “And love between a man and a woman? You don’t mention that.”

  “It goes without saying.”

  “My father would disagree with your assessment.”

  “I’m not sure he would. Max was a historian. He wasn’t inclined to wax lyrically about poetry.”

  “Papa promised to take me to Greece to visit those places which inspired the poets.”

  “Did he?” Nicholas’s gaze sought hers, reflecting her sorrow. “I’m sorry he wasn’t able to do so,” he said after a moment.

  Carrie was sure he was sorry, but how could someone as regimented as Nicholas ever understand her need for adventure? She fell silent and gazed out the window.

  “We’ll be in London well before dark,” he said.

  She nodded without turning to look at him.

  ***

  They arrived in London late in the afternoon. The city appeared dismal and dreary under a lowering sky. Carrie wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the gloom didn’t raise her spirits. Rain fell steadily from a bank of dark clouds while hunched pedestrians scurried over the pavements. Gutters overflowed with dirty water, the streets crammed with vehicles. The wares from the stores spilled onto the pavements, the narrow buildings cheek by jowl.