The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(32)
He retreated into formality. ‘Then we have agreed, we shall speak of it no more.’
There was a short, uncomfortable silence, then, ‘You said you had a favour to ask me, my lord.’
‘I have decided that I must take Nicci up to London. She is too restless for the quiet of the country and will get into one scrape after another. The Season has hardly begun but it will do her no harm to come out quietly this year.’
‘Indeed? And I understand from Nicole that you yourself will be seeking an eligible alliance.’
Marcus felt his colour come up and looked away. Damn that little chit, prattling on to Marissa so improperly. And Marissa was making it obvious that she felt not the slightest regard for him if she could speak so dispassionately of his quest for a wife.
‘Possibly,’ he said shortly. ‘I had intended to ask you if you would consider accompanying us, helping me to launch Nicole into Society.’
‘Me? Marissa’s eyebrows rose haughtily.
‘And Miss Venables, naturally. But if you feel disinclined, ma’am, we need say no more. Nicole can wait another year for her come-out.’ It seemed to Marcus that Marissa must still be considerably irked by him to sound so unwilling.
‘Surely you have other female acquaintances who could oblige you?’ Marissa enquired, watching his face.
For a moment Marcus thought that his wretch of a sister had said something about Diane, then he recovered himself. Even Nicci would not be so indiscreet. ‘Unfortunately, no. No one suitable.’
‘I will think about it and also speak to Miss Venables. It may not suit her convenience,’ Marissa said coolly. ‘For myself, it makes little difference where I spend my time.’
Marcus regarded her, lips tight. She was deliberately provoking him, paying him back with her control for his intemperance earlier. He wanted to take her in his arms, kiss her until the ice melted, make love to her there and then on that wide mahogany writing desk…
Something in the warmth of his gaze must have reached Marissa. He saw her swallow hard, then she gathered up the long skirts of her habit and turned to the door, her slender figure moulded by the tightly-tailored costume. ‘If there is nothing else, I will take my leave, my lord. Please do not trouble to show me out.’
Marcus stood looking at the door which she had closed gently behind her. He raked his hand through his hair, then with a muttered oath poured himself a glass of claret from the decanter on a side table.
Chapter Eleven
Tempest was thoroughly bored with being tied up to the fence and made her displeasure known in no uncertain terms. Marissa had no intention of leading her round to the front of the house in search of a mounting block, so she used a tree stump. The mare sidled and backed every time Marissa attempted to mount and it took ten minutes before she was in the saddle.
Fighting a bad-tempered horse all the way back across the park to the Dower House on top of the morning’s upsets did nothing for Marissa’s mood. She stalked into the house and up to her room, calling for her maid as she went.
In her chamber she pulled off her jacket without waiting for Mary. When the girl arrived, breathless from running upstairs, she asked, ‘Has Miss Venables waited luncheon for me?’
‘Yes. my lady. Let me help you with that, ma’am. What would you like to change into, ma’am?’
‘Oh, anything you like, Mary. Just a simple gown.’
Jane was placidly reading in the dining room when Marissa joined her. ‘Your colour is very good, dear,’ she said, laying the book aside. ‘Did you have a good ride?’
‘My ride was very enjoyable, thank you. I have moved my favourite mare, Tempest, to the stables here. Would you care for some cold meat, Jane?’
‘Thank you, yes. If your ride was enjoyable, it sounds as though something else was not,’ Jane observed.
‘I became embroiled in a dispute between the Earl and Nicci over Mr Ashforde who has asked if he may court her.’
Jane snorted. ‘Has he indeed? Silly young puppy. He is no more in love with that girl than she is with him. No doubt the Earl put him right about that.’ She buttered some bread and asked innocently, ‘Embroiled, you say, my dear? How so?’
Marissa gave her an edited version of the morning’s events.
‘And the Earl was angry?’
‘He was certainly extremely annoyed, and said so,’ Marissa supplied. She had made no mention of his flaring anger, of the riding crop and the effect it had had on her.
‘Oh dear, so we are out of favour with him.’
‘Far from it, Jane. He has asked that we accompany them to London to do the Season and help bring Nicole out. I was so taken aback by his effrontery after all that had passed between us that I did not trust myself to give him an immediate answer.’
‘Oh,’ Jane said, failing to conceal her dismay. ‘But it seems an excellent plan to me – just think how much we would enjoy it after this past year. There can be no objection now to you coming out of mourning. We would have a splendid time. Just think – balls and parties and riding in the park. And entertainment of a higher kind, naturally. There will be the galleries, and exhibitions… And the shopping, dear, think of the shopping.’
Marissa laughed out loud and leaned across the table to take her companion’s hand. ‘You are so good for me, Jane. We will like it exceedingly, in spite of the Earl. I shall tell him that we will oblige him.’