The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(64)

The Captain’s lodgings, ten minutes away on the edge of town, were in darkness save for lights on the first floor. Marcus, thankful that the house seemed a respectable one, tugged at the bell-pull impatiently and when a manservant answered shouldered past him. Jackson followed, his hand on Marissa’s elbow.



‘Stand aside, my man, and do not raise a noise if you know what's good for you,’ Jackson snapped at the servant. ‘Better wait down here, my lady,’ he added, as the sound of Marcus hammering at an upstairs door echoed through the house.

‘No, I am going up. Who is to say what will happen if we are not there? Go on, Jackson.’ She hurried in his wake up the stairs, her heart in her mouth. From the moment the note had been found her thoughts had all been for Nicci and how she would ruin her life for this single moment of childish defiance. She doubted that Nicci understood the enormity of what she was doing, or the danger she had placed herself in.

But when Marcus had returned her joy and relief at seeing him had turned to cold fear that either he would kill the Captain, and have to flee the country, or that he himself would be injured in the duel that he would surely force.

The scene that confronted them as they entered the room close on Marcus’s heels would have been comic if it had not been so serious. Nicci, whose riding habit at least explained how she had arrived there, sat by the fire, her face a picture of indignation. The gallant Captain, who seemed determined to put as much distance between them as he could, was backed into a corner, a hunted look on his face.

‘Thank God you have come, my lord.’

The heartfelt greeting must have taken Marcus by surprise. He stopped, his eyes narrowed as he looked from the Captain to his sister.

‘I did not ask her to come here, believe me, my lord,’ the Captain said with feeling. ‘I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life as I am to see you.’

‘Andrew! How could you?’ Nicci cried. ‘After all the things you said to me.’

‘What things, Captain?’ Marcus enquired dangerously.

Marissa pushed past the men and gathered Nicci in her arms. ‘Oh, do be quiet, both of you! There, there, Nicci. We have come to take you home. You are quite safe now.’

‘She was quite safe before, let me assure you,’ the Captain interjected indignantly. ‘Kiss a girl at the races and the next thing you know she turns up on the doorstep without a handkerchief to her name. I never asked her to come here.’

Marissa thought she detected a slight softening, almost sympathy, in Marcus’s hard expression, but his voice betrayed no such thing.

‘Well, Captain Cross, this is a pretty pass. When are you intending to marry my sister? I am sure we can obtain a special licence. In fact I believe I saw the Bishop of Chichester at the races yesterday. He will doubtless be happy to expedite matters.’

‘Marry her?’ It was almost a squawk. Cross was appalled and it showed on his handsome face, sending Nicci into fresh sobs. ‘Damn it, my lord, I never intended to marry her. And I never intended her any harm, either, upon my word. I did not ask her to come here – I admit I was flirting, stole a kiss, but that is all, I swear it.’ He was now clearly becoming desperate, beads of sweat standing on his forehead.

Marissa had the distinct impression that Marcus was beginning to enjoy himself. She believed that Captain Cross was as innocent of any attempt at seduction as he claimed and that any blame could be laid firmly at the door of Nicci and she suspected that Marcus believed it too.

Even so, she watched with her heart in her mouth as Marcus strolled across the room to stand in front of the quaking Captain. ‘You have had a very narrow escape, my friend,’ he drawled, the Caribbean lilt suddenly strong in his voice.

‘You… you aren’t going to call me out?’

‘No, I’m not, although that was not what I meant. You have had a very narrow escape from finding yourself yoked to probably the silliest girl in England. She would have led you a merry dance, and you would have soon found that kisses come very expensive.’

Marissa, her arm around Nicci, let out her breath in a shuddering sigh of relief. Marcus was not going to challenge him, the man she loved was not going to hazard his life in a pointless duel.

Leaving the Captain wilting visibly, Marcus ushered them downstairs and sent Jackson to locate Nicci’s horse and ride it back to the Lodge. The journey was silent, broken only by Nicci’s hiccupping sobs of mingled relief, humiliation and fury at her brother and Marissa’s murmured words of comfort.

A relieved and furious Jane swept Nicci up to bed, leaving Marissa and Marcus alone. ‘Marcus, I have never been so glad to see anyone as I was to see you when you came home this evening.’

‘Marissa, darling, there is something I must tell you,’ he began, walking towards her.

‘Where were you?’ she continued. ‘Jackson said you were not dining at home, but he was so vague…’

‘I was with Diane.’

Marissa froze. Of course he was. Unable to find satisfaction in her arms, he had sought it in the bed of his mistress. Had he told Diane how cold she was, how unresponsive? Had the other woman smiled secretly to herself at the thought of Marissa’s failings? Perhaps they had laughed together at her gaucheness, her timidity

‘Marissa,’ Marcus persisted, his voice a buzzing in her head. ‘There is something I must tell you.’