The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(20)
‘I think you look utterly – ’ He broke off, the laughter gone from his eyes, his expression strangely intent.
The silence was unbearable. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘You.’ Then he laughed. ‘And the twigs in your hair.’
‘Oh, no.’ Marissa ran her fingers through her dishevelled curls, realising that virtually all the pins had gone. Twigs showered out and fine sand ran down her neck. With an impatient slap she brushed at her skirts, shaking what seemed to be a pound of sand out of her petticoats.
Tactfully Marcus turned his back, striding up the slope to rescue her bonnet and pelisse from the bush where she had left them. Flushed, but feeling more in command of herself, Marissa buttoned the pelisse and pulled on her bonnet, doing the best she could to bundle up her loose hair inside it.
Her fingers were on the bonnet strings when Marcus said, ‘Stop.’ He was close again, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘You have sand on your cheekbone,’ he murmured. ‘Here, let me.’
Before she could raise her hand his fingertips were stroking the fine grains from her skin, brushing them away from her lashes. She closed her eyes at the gentle touch and for a long moment she stood there, his fingers tracing the curves of her face.
Marissa turned her face into his hand, and in response his palm cupped her cheek. His breath whispered warmly on her mouth…
There was the thud of hooves on the turf and a rattle of wheels. Marissa opened her eyes to find Marcus standing a good three strides away from her and a groom hastening around the edge of the dune where the track petered out onto the beach.
‘My lady, Miss Venables sent me to tell you that – Oh, your lordship, I did not know you were here. Begging your pardon, my lord. Miss Venables was wishful of letting her ladyship know you had arrived.’
‘Yes, I saw her ladyship on the dunes and rode down to greet her.’ Marcus turned to hand Marissa up into the gig and swung up onto his patiently waiting horse. ‘I will ride with you,’ he said as the gig moved off along the sandy track.
Marissa pulled herself together with an effort. ‘I am sorry we were so ill-prepared for you, my lord. Nicole received your letter this morning and we had not looked to see you for at least the next three days. Miss Venables is even now at the Hall putting in hand preparations for your arrival. Your sister, I am afraid, is at the Vicarage, at her dancing class.’ She felt she was prattling mindlessly, acutely conscious of the presence of the groom beside her.
The man cleared his throat. ‘Pardon me, my lady, but James has gone in the carriage to collect Lady Nicole. Miss Venables sent him off as soon as his lordship’s baggage coach and carriage arrived.’
Jane was once again rising to the occasion, Marissa thought with relief. She could be relied on to know exactly what to do under any set of circumstances, which, considering that she herself could hardly string two words together sensibly just at the moment, was a very good thing.
‘Your journey was smooth I trust, my lord,’ she asked, watching his hands, strong and brown on the reins. Unaccountably she could not meet his eyes. It was the embarrassment of being caught out in such hoydenish behaviour, of course. She had intended meeting him graciously, assured in her new role as the Dowager, and instead had been discovered romping in a way which would have been inexcusable even for Nicci.
‘I was fortunate with the winds and landed in Bristol a week ago. I can only assume that the ship bearing my letter was delayed.’
Marissa could well believe it had not occurred to Marcus to write from Bristol. In her experience men rarely considered the problems of domestic arrangements and all that was involved in making a great house ready for its master. ‘What a delightful surprise for Nicole,’ she said.
Marcus turned in the saddle, blue eyes creased in amusement. ‘That is a very polite way of telling me I should have sent word from Bristol and that I have caused the household a great deal of work,’ he remarked. ‘I have no doubt that I will be due a severe scold from Miss Venables. Tell me, how should I best make my apologies?’ His smile was broad and white and quite shameless.
‘Southwood Hall stands ready for your lordship whenever you choose to arrive. But I can only apologise that the London house was so unprepared. As you will recall, Matthews is here at the Hall, and there is only a skeleton staff left in Town.’
‘No matter. I had no intention of setting everyone in a bustle for one night. I stayed at Fenton’s Hotel and was perfectly comfortable.’
Marissa was taken aback by such consideration for the servants. Her late husband would have expected to be able to walk into any of his establishments at any hour of the day and night and find all in perfect readiness and order.
‘And how is my sister? Has she led you a merry dance this past year? From her letters I have lived in daily expectation of a communication from you demanding that I remove her from your household immediately.’
Beside her the groom repressed a snort, bending over the reins to hide what she suspected was a broad grin. Nicci was a favourite with the servants who appeared to be enchanted by her friendly ways. They do not have to try and turn her into a young lady, Marissa thought ruefully.
‘It has been a pleasure to have her with us,’ she said repressively. What had Nicci been writing? ‘We have been living very quietly, of course. I can only hope Nicole has not been intolerably bored.’