The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(41)

Marissa stared at him in horror. Surely he would not even hint at what had passed between them last night or what had been said this morning? Her mouth opened, she sought for the right words but nothing emerged.

‘Very well, I see I shall have to be brutally honest. Nicci, I am afraid that Marissa feels that you will be too much of a handful for her. Now, I know she wanted to spare your feelings, but you will have to accept that she is going to sacrifice her own pleasure on the altar of your wilfulness,’ Marcus said solemnly.

Nicci promptly burst into tears. Marissa, with one harassed glance at the girl, left her and marched over to where Marcus was standing, one booted foot on the fender, arms crossed – and obviously thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Marcus, how could you say anything so untrue and unkind to your sister? See how upset she is.’

He smiled down into her furious face. ‘Yes. I realise it is not very gentlemanly of me, but it had to be said for her own good.’ If he had hoped to goad her by flinging her accusation that he had not behaved as a gentleman back in her face, he had succeeded.

With a frustrated stamp of her foot Marissa turned back to Nicci who was drooping miserably on the window seat, sniffing into a lawn handkerchief. ‘It is not true, Nicci dearest. Marcus is teasing you – and me. I simply said that I was feeling very tired. I think the arrangements, and the hot weather, have sapped my energy. But do not mind it. I will be better directly. Of course I will go to London with you.’

‘If you are sure? A change of scenery and occupation will soon chase away these megrims,’ Marcus said smoothly. ‘Although I am certain you will miss the invigorating sea breezes.’ He smiled wolfishly, his teeth very white in the lean, tanned face.

‘I know what you are about, Marcus,’ Nicci accused suddenly. ‘You are teasing Marissa about something and it is very unfair of you.’ She stood, mustering her dignity, and extended her hand to Marissa. ‘Come along, Marissa, we will go upstairs and leave him to his beastly breakfast. I need you to tell me if any of my hats are fit to be seen in London.’





Chapter Fourteen


Despite her conviction that she would need an entirely new wardrobe for London, Nicci still managed to pack enough valises to almost fill a travelling coach and Marcus was forced to add two more to the train of carriages that set out from Southwood Hall on a brilliantly sunny day.

The journey was smooth and uneventful, but none the less Marissa was pleased to see Matthews’s smiling face as he stood at the head of the staff gathered to welcome them to the Grosvenor Square house. She had been afraid that he would resent Jackson’s arrival to usurp his position, but it soon became clear that the inexperienced young man welcomed direction in managing the Town house now the family were in residence.

The hall was soon full of servants and luggage and Marissa let Gyp out into the garden at the rear, then slipped away to the morning room which overlooked the garden at the rear of the house. She stood by the windows, reflecting how different their arrival had used to be when she was married to Charles. He had hated commotion and disorder so the luggage had always been sent well ahead to ensure that everything would be in its place by the time the Earl and Countess drew up at the front door.

The Grosvenor Square house was decorated to Charles’s exacting taste yet, although it was as cold and impersonal as Southwood Hall, the memories it held were not as painful. Marissa had known that whenever they went up to London she would hardly see her husband from one day to the other. Charles had left her to her own devices. In fact he would hardly speak to her. He’d had his own circle, his own interests, and had spent much of his time at his clubs. After his initial courtship he had rarely accompanied her to Almack’s or the numerous soirées to which they received invitations, leaving his wife to seek the escort of friends.

Marissa had spent many lonely days in London, but at least she had been free of Charles’s dominating presence. And, curiously, here she had never been summoned to his bed-chamber as she had in Norfolk.

Matthews’s discreet cough behind her recalled her to the present. ‘My lady, I was not certain which chamber you would wish to occupy.’

‘Her ladyship will, naturally, have her usual suite of rooms,’ Marcus said before she could reply.

‘No, surely Lady Nicole should occupy those rooms,’ she protested, turning to find them both in the doorway.

‘I insist. Matthews, see her ladyship’s luggage is taken up before any of the rest.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘And Matthews, order some tea to be sent up: her ladyship is fatigued.’

She waited until the door closed behind the under-butler before she snapped, ‘Thank you so much for your concern, Marcus, but I am quite capable of ordering my own tea.’

‘You are as pale as linen, Marissa. I am sorry, I appreciate this must be painful for you.’ Marcus came and took her hand, led her to a chair and urged her into it. ‘I should have realised you would have an attachment to this house and will find it difficult to see it occupied by others.’

‘No, not really.’ Marissa was startled into honesty. ‘I never cared much for it. It is not that I dislike it, simply that it has no character, no warmth. My lord ordered it decorated in the Classical taste but I can’t help feeling that it is not so successful in a house of this scale as it is at Southwood Hall.’