The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(29)
It was Mr Ashforde, Marissa realised, screwing up her eyes against the light. The two began to walk up and down the rose terrace between the still-brown beds of pruned bushes.
How very odd that he should have come to the back of the house, Marissa mused. And it was almost as though Nicci had been waiting for him. She did hope this was not a clandestine meeting – it would be fatal to the young couple’s hopes if Marcus discovered such a tryst had taken place. She was more than ever convinced that Crispin Ashforde would be the ideal husband for Nicci, but this was not the way to go about it.
She collected up the reins and urged the mare into a trot, following the track worn by the sheep and the deer until she reached the fence around the pleasure grounds. The young couple were now easy to make out and she was close enough to see the distress on Nicci’s face as she broke away and ran into the house.
Marissa threw her leg over the pommel, slipped to the ground and tied Tempest’s reins to the fence. Mr Ashforde was standing gazing into an ornamental pond, a dispirited sag to his shoulders.
‘Mr Ashforde. Good morning.’
The curate was so startled that he nearly dropped his hat into the water. ‘Lady Longminster. Good morning to you. A fine day, is it not?’
‘Yes, it is. But never mind that.’ Marissa was in no mood for social chit-chat. ‘What is the matter with Lady Nicole? She seemed distressed.’
Mr Ashforde smoothed back his hair from his brow and his handsome face creased with worry. ‘May I be frank with you, Lady Longminster?’
‘I wish you would. You must know I regard Nicole in the light of a sister.’ She smiled encouragingly at him.
He fingered the brim of his hat, much of his normal air of quiet confidence dissipated. ‘I must confess to having formed an attachment to Lady Nicole and I have the honour to believe that my feelings are reciprocated.’
Marissa felt a momentary impatience with his formality. ‘You are in love with each other?’ she demanded.
‘So I believe.’ He blushed rosily. ‘I must confess that I have never before felt an attachment of this nature, so I can only assume it to be the tender passion which animates me. You must believe that I only wish the best for Lady Nicole,’ he added earnestly.
‘I do believe that, Mr Ashforde, although I must warn you that the Earl is likely to take a less charitable view of your meeting Nicole unchaperoned like this than I do.’
The young man’s blush deepened. ‘I too am deeply conscious that such a meeting could be construed as improper, but Lady Nicole was in such distress last night that I felt I should meet and talk with her where we could be private.’
That was puzzling. She had no recollection of Nicci being in anything but great high spirits at the dinner party, but perhaps the eye of love had seen a deeper emotion. ‘Why is she upset now?’
‘Because I told her that I did not feel we should declare our feelings for each other until she had come out into Society. She is very young,’ Ashforde added, somewhat ponderously.
‘I am certain that the Earl would look kindly upon your suit,’ Marissa assured him. ‘You are so well connected and suitable in every way. And, young though Lady Nicole is, surely a settled attachment with a long engagement would not be unacceptable to the Earl?’
Ashforde looked startled. ‘If you are certain, then I will be guided by you. I had resigned myself to a longer wait, but in view of your advice…’ They had been walking as they talked and rounded the corner of the house. ‘There is the Earl now.’
Marcus was cantering across the park from the direction of the Home Farm. Marissa gave the curate a little push. ‘Strike while the iron is hot. Speak to him now. I will go in to Nicole.’
She found Nicci pacing up and down in the Salon, traces of tears on her cheeks. ‘I am in such despair!’ She ran over and grasped Marissa’s hands. ‘Crispin is so noble, so good, but he is ready to sacrifice our love for convention… for prudence.’
‘For heaven’s sake. Nicci.’ Marissa was aware of a sudden feeling of irritation with the young lovers. ‘Do try for a little moderation. You are not going to win your brother round with histrionics, it will only serve to vex him. Men hate such displays of sensibility.’
‘But you do not understand. It is hopeless. I cannot convince Crispin that he must speak to Marcus, declare for me. He says we must wait until I am older.’
‘Do not worry, Nicci. Mr Ashforde is speaking to your brother now, asking to pay his addresses. I am sure all will be well if you will only – ’
The front door crashed open like a thunderclap. ‘Nicole!’ Marcus roared.
They instinctively clutched each other, and were gazing at the door, a picture of guilt, Marissa thought distractedly, when Marcus strode in.
Nicci gave her brother a weak smile. ‘Why, Marcus, whatever is the matter?’
He had tossed off his hat, his riding coat was open and he stood tapping the riding crop against his booted leg. The steady noise, as regular as a heartbeat, was unnerving.
‘You little minx. You know perfectly well what the matter is. You have cajoled that poor boy of a curate into believing himself in love with you and what must the besotted wretch do but ask me for permission to pay court to you. If it were not so absurd it would be laughable.’ Marcus strode across the room, irritation in every step.