The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(63)
All he could think about as the hooves thudded beneath him was that Marissa loved him and that they could be happy together.
His mind was so full of her that he was not surprised when he opened the door, stepped into the hall and she ran headlong down the stairs and cast herself into his arms. For a moment he was so overwhelmed to find himself holding her warm body, clad only in her nightgown and peignoir, that he held her close, his mouth in her hair, drinking in the scent of her.
Then he looked up into the reddened eyes of Miss Venables, at Jackson standing behind her, looking grave and concerned. Marcus cast round and realised the hall was full of people – both footmen, a weeping lady’s maid and even Cook, tangling her hands in her apron.
Chapter Twenty One
Marcus eased open Marissa’s grip but kept one arm protectively around her shoulders. ‘What the Devil is wrong, Jackson?’
‘If you would take the ladies into the drawing room, my lord,’ the butler said, ‘I will join you directly. Thomson, take the rest of the staff back below stairs. Cook, please send up tea.’
Marcus, baffled, steered Marissa into the drawing room while Jackson helped a weeping Miss Venables to an armchair. ‘Will someone please tell me what is going on?’
‘Oh, Marcus,’ Marissa said. ‘I am so thankful you are back.’
‘Let me tell him, it is all my fault.’ Miss Venables could get no further, tears overcoming her again.
It was the sight of the redoubtable Jane Venables sobbing into her handkerchief that convinced Marcus that this was more than the usual domestic upset.
‘Perhaps, my lord, I could be permitted to explain,’ Jackson said stolidly as Marissa slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
‘I wish you would. Sit down.’
The big man dropped into an armchair and it was as if the crisis had transported them back to their old, informal relationship in the West Indies. ‘It’s Miss Nicci, Marcus. She’s gone off with that Captain Cross, if I read her letter aright. I was about to take the curricle out after her when you returned.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Marcus jumped to his feet, raking his fingers through his wind-disordered hair. ‘Stupid little fool!’ He paced the carpet, then turned to his old friend. ‘You’re sure she’s with Cross? There can be no doubt?’
Wordlessly Jackson handed Marcus a sheet of writing paper, crumpled and tear-stained.
I have gone to Andrew because you are all so beastly to me. And he says I would make a wonderful army wife and would enjoy all the balls and parties that the Regiment holds. I shall marry him and then you will be sorry you were so unkind. Do not follow me, for I shall never return willingly.
‘Nicci, you little idiot. Even that milksop curate would have been better than this. Jackson, do we know where this Captain Cross lodges?’
Jackson shook his head. ‘From what Lady Longminster remembers of his uniform the regiment is one of those based down in Brighton. He obviously came up for the races this week.’
Miss Venables blew her nose and peered over the handkerchief, red-eyed, but finally in control of herself. ‘My lord, I think I may be able to throw some light on this. While I was with Sir Frederick Collier this afternoon we encountered an old friend of his, a Colonel Seymour. He is the officer in command of Captain Cross’s regiment and he mentioned that he and several of his officers had taken lodgings in Epsom for the races.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘No, but Sir Frederick will, they dined together last night.’
Ten minutes later the curricle was at the front door, Jackson already in the seat. As Marcus gathered up the reins Marissa appeared on the doorstep, fully dressed, a cloak around her shoulders. ‘Marcus, what are you going to do?’
‘Call on Sir Frederick, find the Colonel, get Captain Cross’s direction – and break his neck.’
'Take me with you. Nicci is going to be in such distress and, if we are seen, my presence may help reduce any scandal.’
‘It makes sense, Marcus,’ Jackson murmured, swinging out of his seat to sit on the Tiger’s perch behind.
‘You’re right.’ Marcus stretched down a hand and almost pulled Marissa up beside him. ‘Hold on,’ he warned, laying the whip across the bays with a snap.
If Sir Frederick Collier was surprised to be interrupted as he sat reading in his study, he was too well mannered to show it. He urged Marissa and Marcus into the room and listened gravely to their frank explanation of why they were there. With a nod he crossed to his desk and wrote an address on a slip of paper. ‘Here, this is Colonel Seymour’s direction. You may rely on my total discretion. Now, hurry.’
The Colonel, fetched from a game of cards by his batman, was less phlegmatic. His florid complexion darkened dangerously, but he was clearly controlling his language in deference to Marissa. None the less Marcus had the distinct impression that the Colonel would be exacting his own price for the Captain’s behaviour. If there’s anything left of him by the time I’ve finished.
‘I will come with you, my lord. Ma’am, perhaps you would be more comfortable here. I will ask my wife to come down to wait with you.’
‘Thank you, no. The fewer people involved the better, I feel, and Lady Longminster may be able to lend some countenance to my sister if she is seen leaving this man’s rooms.’