Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2)

by Maggi Andersen

  “Checkmate.”

  Their gazes collided. She expected to find him pleased with his victory, but he looked strangely intense.

  “You toyed with me!” she complained with a half-laugh.

  He took a long sip from the glass of wine at his elbow. “It wasn’t so easy. Allow me to enjoy the victory. You will beat me soon enough.”

  “I will!” she said heatedly. “I shall study the books on chess games in the library!” Her passionate declaration surprised her as much as him. It would take her months to discover how to beat him if she ever could. Why was it important to her? That she sought his approval and admiration surprised her.

  Nicholas replaced the pieces on the board without further comment. Carrie could sense a palpable change in mood. His expression now seemed thoughtful, although it could be the flickering candlelight. The day of her departure grew closer. Might he be sorry? She searched his face but failed to discern his thoughts. He hid his emotions too well, while she struggled to hide hers. Could he read her like a book? she wondered, frustrated.

  “I enjoyed the game,” he said in an offhanded fashion, which annoyed her. “Shall we join these two quarrelsome children?”

  They rose, and as he moved her chair, his fingers brushed the bare skin of her arm below her capped sleeve. The slightest touch but it sent her pulse skittering. Her gaze flickered up at him but saw only his profile as he crossed the floor.

  “What is causing all this dissension?” he asked.

  They had given up their game and sat glaring at each other. “Bella won’t admit she cheats,” Jeremy said with disgust.

  Bella glared at him. “I don’t!”

  “Shall we play cards then?” Nicholas opened the drawer in the games table and removed a pack.

  Silence settled over the room as he shuffled the cards.

  Later, in her bedchamber, Anna brushed Carrie’s hair. The thought of leaving Elm Park unsettled her. “Have you been able to find out why the previous housekeeper was dismissed without a reference?”

  “Yes, Mary, the upstairs maid, told me. The housekeeper dismissed a pregnant scullery maid without consulting Abercrombie. With no one to turn to for help, the poor girl drowned herself in the river.”

  “What a cruel woman. Do they know who the baby’s father was?”

  “Tom Forrester, from the home farm. They planned to marry, but he died after a bull gored him.”

  “How sad.”

  “Yes, I’m told his lordship was furious with her. She’d only been here for a few months. The previous housekeeper had been at Elm Park for years, but ill health forced her to retire. None of the staff seemed to like her replacement.”

  After Anna left, Carrie sat on the edge of her bed. Nicholas had cared for the plight of the scullery maid when many men would not. Her view of Nicholas had changed since she came to Elm Park. She couldn’t imagine him acting cruelly to anyone.

  Bella and Jeremy were settling down. So why did she feel as if she would leave behind something unfinished? Something special. She talked sternly to herself. Gwen worked so hard on her behalf and must leave her small son behind in the country. Of course, Carrie must go to London. The sooner she left, the better. Nothing was going to dissuade her from her view that he was the most wonderful man she had ever met.

  She reached down and picked up her slippers from beside her bed and put them on. She must not fall in love with him. He had agreed to take care of Bella and Jeremy, giving up his precious solitude. And while he seemed to enjoy their company, it had been an obligation. As a man of honor, he could hardly do otherwise. But none of this seemed to help her. She grew restless just thinking of him.

  She jumped up and prowled around the room. This wouldn’t do. But she still looked for Nicholas at breakfast and was absurdly disappointed when he was away riding. At night, he filled her thoughts before she fell asleep. How he looked. What he said that was so amusing. How his body moved when he walked, that purposeful step, so athletic and graceful. She tried to tell herself it was gratitude. That she was merely captivated by a rather remarkable man. She would know her feelings better when she went to London. Not that it mattered, for although Nicholas liked her well enough and enjoyed her company, he showed no sign of being in love with her. He would consider her a silly, love-struck girl if he knew her thoughts.

  With a deep sigh, Carrie shrugged off her dressing gown. She picked up the book of Keats’s poems and settled into bed. Nicholas had invited her to the library to discuss Endymion tomorrow, after their ride. She would remain calm and cool and put up a good argument in Keats’s favor. She must never allow her feelings to betray her, for it would surely embarrass him.

  Chapter Eight

  After a glance at the sky, Nicholas strode into the warm, fragrant breakfast room where his wards had assembled and were enjoying eggs and toast.

  With a welcoming smile, Nicholas took a chair as a footman hurried to pour his coffee. “Good morning. We are blessed with a fine day.”

  Dressed in yellow, she was as fresh and lovely as the yellow tulips she favored. He’d enjoyed their chess game. The challenge in her big eyes told him she had enjoyed it, too.

  “Why don’t we exercise the horses?” he said. “I need to visit one of my tenants.”

  Jeremy awarded him with a hoot of joy. Nicholas was ridiculously pleased to see that lost look vanish from the boy’s face.

  At the stables, one of Nicholas’s young grooms stood dumbstruck, the saddle he’d been polishing clutched to his chest as Carrie walked past him. Nicholas smiled to himself. Apparently, the effect she had on callow youths was just as Bella had described.

  He gestured to the groom. “Fetch my horse, Richie.”

  “Yes, milord.” The boy paused at the stable door and glanced back at Carrie, fetching in her rust-colored habit and black hat. If she noticed the lad, she didn’t reveal it.

  Suitable mounts were chosen after Nicholas dissuaded Jeremy from riding the colt, Prince, which tried to unseat Nicholas the last time he’d ridden him. Jeremy’s attempt to argue was silenced at a shake of Nicholas’s head.

  With Jeremy mounted on his second choice, a young gelding, they rode out of the stable yard and down the drive with Chester racing ahead. They took the bridle path through the woods and emerged from the trees beside the river, where they crossed a bridge. The estate unfolded, paddocks and meadows gave way to roads leading to the village and the tenant farms.

  Nicholas told them he would first call to inspect Crumpton’s newly thatched roof.

  As they rode up to the farmhouse, the farmer rushed out to greet them, his dogs milling around Chester with tails wagging. “It’s a thing of beauty, m’lord.” Crumpton beamed at them. “Not a leak to be found during yesterday’s rain. Mrs. Crumpton is pleased as punch.”

  Nicholas introduced Carrie and his wards as Mrs. Crumpton emerged from the doorway, untying her apron, bringing with her the delicious smell of bacon frying. She curtsied. “May we offer you and your guests something to eat or a cup of tea, m’lord?”

  That was Crumpton’s breakfast Nicholas could smell. “Thank you, Mrs. Crumpton. Another time, we might partake of your excellent scones. I enjoyed those sent to me very much. Lord Leeming is eager to see more of the estate.”

  Mrs. Crumpton’s cheeks grew pink, and she bobbed.

  Nicholas tipped his hat, and they rode on.

  They rode up a steep rise. From the top, the view stretched for miles like a patchwork quilt of meadows and plowed fields. Smoke from the wanderer camp wafted in the air, and farther north, a smoke spiral drifted from an encampment. That would be the unwelcome visitor Nicholas was keen to visit.

  Jeremy angled his horse alongside Nicholas’s and pointed to a gray-stone edifice some miles away. “Is that the ruin of a house I see over to the west?”

  “That ancient pile of stone is the home of my ancestors. Nothing much to see there. A wall still stands, and what’s left of stone steps leading to the cellars. They flood when the riv
er’s high.”

  Jeremy swiveled to look at him, his eyes keen. “Perhaps we could…”

  Nicholas laughed. “I neither have a wish to venture into the cellars, Jeremy, nor discover what occurred there hundreds of years ago.”

  “Are there any Roman ruins, hereabouts?”

  “A Roman villa in Great Witcombe and another near Chedworth,” Nicholas said. “We can ride over and visit them sometime if you wish.”

  “Could we, sir? I should like it above anything.”

  “Then we shall. Time to go,” Nicholas called to Carrie and Bella, who were chatting together.

  Their mounts followed Nicholas’s horse down the slope to level ground. Nicholas drew rein and pointed. “Race you to that fence, Jeremy.” He’d seen enough to know the boy was a good rider. He’d make a fine equestrian one day.

  With an enthusiastic shout, Jeremy took off. He spurred the speedy gelding forward, but the young horse was no match for Aquilo. Nicholas allowed the boy to move ahead and then, to make a fair race of it, urged his horse on. They were neck and neck as they reached the fence.

  Jeremy’s horse edged ahead by a nostril. “I won!” he yelled to Carrie and Bella, who came trotting behind them.

  “You did, indeed. I prophesy you will win many such races in the coming years,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. “But a winner never boasts, Jeremy.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

  “Why must men always have to race each other?” Bella asked when she and Carrie joined them.

  “That’s quite a serious question, Bella,” Nicholas said with a wink at Jeremy. “But we don’t have time to discuss it. Shall we ride on?”

  Jeremy and Bella urged their horses into a canter, while Nicholas continued at a slower pace, falling in beside Carrie.

  She turned to him. “Good of you to let Jeremy win.”

  “How do you know I did?”

  She scoffed. “You let Bella win at cards, too. But you did not let me beat you at chess.”

  “Would you have liked me to?”

  Her gaze beneath the brim of her hat was questioning. “No. I wouldn’t have.”

  He wasn’t about to patronize her. Nicholas was totally captivated. He admired her independence and hoped no husband would try to rein her in. “Then you have your answer.”

  “You believe you can see through me so easily?” she asked, laughter lifting her lips.

  “Impossible, Carrie. But that is part of your charm,” he said truthfully.

  They rode on.

  “Are you still worried about Jeremy?” Nicholas asked her.

  “He is a great deal better. He has many distractions here, and putting some distance from Leeming Hall has helped, too. Have I told you how grateful I am, Nicholas, for taking us in? No one would have criticized you had you set up a house for us with a chaperone somewhere.”

  Might she have preferred it? He shot her a swift look, wondering what lay behind her comment. It was impossible to read her expression beneath the brim of her hat. He knew her to be a fierce mother hen concerning her brother and sister’s welfare.

  His solicitor had suggested establishing the children in London with a suitable woman, perhaps a widow, to chaperone them and the governess. But it wasn’t what he’d promised Max. And he hadn’t forgotten his friend’s warning about his younger brother, Simon Leeming. It seemed unlikely the man would risk returning to England. Even so, Nicholas hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration. And he was extremely pleased that he hadn’t.

  “There’s no need to be grateful.”

  “But I am. After all, it’s true.”

  “It’s been my absolute pleasure to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. And that was true. Every word.

  Her eyes glistened with tears.

  He wanted to reach out to her, but feared she’d misinterpret it.

  She straightened her hat. “I’m sure you are keen to return to your history books.”

  “Do you think me a boring bookworm? I am happy to delay my work until you have left for London.”

  “So, I am to blame?” She ducked her head, failing to hide the blush which painted her pale skin a rosy pink.

  Nicholas drew in a slow breath. “It’s entirely possible. I fear you will persuade me to fall in love with the Romantics,” he said in mock seriousness.

  She shook her head with a small laugh.

  His words lingered between them as they rode on in silence.

  Chester burst out of the shrubbery, having abandoned his search for a rabbit, and danced around them, tongue lolling.

  “It’s so beautiful here.” She gazed over the fields where sheep sheltered from the sun beneath the oaks. “I shall miss it.”

  “You will soon have dashing gentlemen waltzing you around a ballroom. Much more exciting.”

  “But I shan’t waltz. Gwen tells me I may only dance the waltz with a relative or my fiancé. I must be presented to the queen. And gain the approval of the Almacks’ patronesses.”

  “That seems an unnecessarily strict rule. Everyone should be able to waltz.”

  She skewered him with an unflinching look. “Oh? I thought you didn’t care for the waltz.” A smile lifted her lips. “I have heard it’s quite enervating.”

  That she would feel slighted when he’d refused to dance with her had not occurred to him. What a fool he’d been. “I believe I can manage a few steps, Carrie,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. She laughed at him, but he disliked the suggestion even so. Right now, as he admired her delicate mouth and the dimple peeking from her cheek, he felt young and full of juice. “We might waltz, sometime, perhaps, before I need a walking stick.”

  She grinned. “I should like that, Nicholas.”

  Why had he said it? A rush of blood to the head. He had forgotten his determination not to waltz with her. She was entirely too lovely, with the soft rays of sunlight filtering down through the leaves to alight on her face. As if nature, too, was applauding her beauty. He forced his spine upright in the saddle. “Although I’m not sure when that will be. I shan’t stay long in London. Shall we join the others?”

  “Of course.” She slapped the reins and urged her horse into a fast canter that seemed like a rebuke of him. When he caught up with her, Carrie didn’t look at him. Beneath her riding hat, her set profile made her appear unapproachable.

  They continued on with the crunch and crack of twigs beneath the horses’ hooves in the still air. Nicholas tried to order his churning thoughts. As a single man, he must be careful. It wasn’t his standing in society that worried him. It was Carrie’s reputation. She should not be here, governess or no. Gwen had visited to put the seal of approval on it, but tongues could still wag. They had never intended Carrie to stay at Elm Park. She was to go straight from Yorkshire to his sister in London. But for Bella’s plea that she come for a few weeks, she would have done so. But this was not something he could have refused them.

  Jeremy and Bella were well out of sight when Nicholas and Carrie rode up the drive toward the house.

  In a blur of reddish fur, a fox darted out from the woods straight through the legs of Carrie’s horse. The fox vanished in a flash, but it spooked her mount. The mare whinnied and danced on its back legs. As Carrie fought to hold on to the pummel, the reins slipped from her fingers. Jumping from his horse, Nicholas reached up to grab the reins to steady the animal, but the mare danced around like a mad thing. Before he could grasp hold of them, with a cry, Carrie slipped off the saddle.

  Nicholas caught her as she fell. She gripped his shoulder, her face close to his. Wide eyes met his. He held her tight against him and moved away from the horse’s stomping hooves.

  The horse galloped away toward the stables.

  “You’re not hurt?” He spied three tiny gold freckles on her nose.

  “I am fine now, thank you.” Her sweet breath touched his cheek. “You may put me down.”

  “No danger now,” he muttered, suddenly aware he still held her. H
e set her back on her feet.

  His head groom ran from the stables.

  “Milord. When the horse came back, I thought…”

  “As you see, there’s no need for concern, Henning,” Nicholas said. “A fox startled Miss Leeming’s horse. Take Aquilo back to his stall. And see to the other horses.”

  “I’m a bit shaky,” Carrie confessed.

  He took her arm as shudders rocked through her. “You’ll feel better after some brandy.”

  When they entered through the front door, Abercrombie hurried over to him. “Dear heaven, my lord, I saw the groom run past. What has occurred?”

  “Miss Leeming fell from her horse,” Nicholas said. “No harm done, Abercrombie. Have Bella and Jeremy arrived back from the stables?”

  “Not yet, my lord.”

  “Send for them and have the tea tray sent in.”

  They entered the morning room. “Some brandy?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nicholas poured her a half glass and one for himself. He had thought he could face anything, deal with anything that came his way after the war. But in an instant, discovered how wrong he was. He would rather face an advancing army than witness someone he cared for struck down. He’d never wanted to suffer again. Had been careful, in fact, never to risk placing himself in such a vulnerable position. But it appeared he could not bargain with fate. He handed her the glass and came to sit opposite her. “An unfortunate occurrence.”

  “It might have been had you not caught me.”

  He smiled. “No harm done, then?”

  She returned his smile. “No. Just my shame at having failed to keep my seat.”

  “Riding sidesaddle? They are perfect for a canter around the park, but I dislike women riding to hounds on them.”

  A glimmer of humor warmed her eyes. “So, a lady should ride astride?”

  Nicholas chuckled. “Why not?”

  A long silence followed as they sipped their drinks, while Nicholas squashed a disgraceful image of Carrie riding astride naked with her red hair swinging down like Lady Godiva.