Carrie flushed. “But how could I?”
She snapped her fan shut. “Carrie, my dear, Nellie and I have exhausted all the single men this Season, and I don’t anticipate anyone else. But if a gentleman should appear, I doubt he could claim your heart, because I suspect it is already taken.” She looked across the room. “Here comes an interesting gentleman, and just as they call the waltz.”
A tall man dressed all in black approached them.
“Who is he? Should I waltz with him?”
“Lord Barraclough. He’s a dreadful rake and shall flirt with you outrageously. But dance with him. Few will question it tonight. Don’t take him seriously and refuse him if he should invite you to stroll on the terrace.”
He bowed before them, dressed all in black. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Aphrodite?”
“I am Titania, sir,” Carrie amended, rising to take his arm.
“You are Aphrodite to me.” His dark eyes searched hers through the slits in his black mask.
He led her onto the floor.
The music began, and he swung her into the dance. His hand settled low on her back, pulling her close. She tensed and tried to move away. “That’s quite close enough, sir.”
He laughed. “Nonsense. This is a masked ball, look around you.”
It was true everyone behaved differently tonight, as if they had left their manners at home for the evening.
His hand slid down farther over her hip.
“Sir!”
“Shall we walk in the moonlight after the dance?”
“It is raining,” Carrie said, relieved to find an excuse to prevent this forthright gentleman from whisking her off without her consent. She could imagine an embarrassing tussle.
He spun her around until she was breathless, then drew her against him, so close she could smell the champagne and tobacco on his breath. Carrie attempted to place some space between them without being too obvious. Why had Gwen allowed her to dance with him? She longed for the waltz to end.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nicholas descended the stairs to the ballroom. He made his way through the costumed guests. Lord Ludlow, in a musketeer costume, which made his shoulders look narrow and his knees knobby, wasn’t dancing. He stood looking dejected with a group of people. Carrie was not among them.
Was she waltzing? Nicholas searched the dance floor. It was easy to find her, her glorious hair piled high and decked with flowers. He swore under his breath. Not only was she waltzing, but with the worst rake in London, Julian Barraclough, and his hand wandered where it shouldn’t.
Every muscle tensed as Nicholas pushed through the swirling dancers. They stared at him in his black and white evening wear, and some called out to him. Gwen knew he would be here tonight. Was this to provoke him? He would speak to her later. He did not need his sister meddling in his affairs of the heart.
A fool could see he was in love.
He reached Barraclough and Carrie. “Unhand Miss Leeming, sir,” he said, stepping in front of him.
A collective gasp came from the surrounding dancers. Some men laughed and called encouragement.
“What, Pennington? Have I trod upon your turf?” Barraclough asked. When he dropped his hands, Carrie spun around. Her eyes widened.
“Nicholas.”
“I believe you have confused the waltz with something else entirely,” Nicholas said to Barraclough. Julian looked as if he’d argue the point.
More couples dancing around them stopped to watch with titters and guffaws.
Barraclough stepped back. “A duel at dawn would bore me,” he said. “Much better sport to pursue.” He bowed to Carrie. “It was my pleasure, Aphrodite.” The dancers parted as he made his way through them and disappeared into the games room.
Nicholas grabbed Carrie’s hand and led her from the floor.
“Nicholas?” Carrie began again.
A footman opened the French doors, and Nicholas led her out to the terrace.
Fine, misty rain fell. Nicholas found a sheltered corner, partly in shadow. He gently removed her lacy white mask. Her gaze met his, as soft as a caress.
“Carrie. I love you, sweetheart.” He drew her into an embrace, his cheek against her hair. “You crept into my heart from our first meeting, my love. And fool that I was, I fought against it. The thought of losing you almost crushed me. Will you promise to spend your life with me?” He drew back and grazed his knuckles gently along her cheek. “You are my life. I need you as much as breathing.”
She reached up and smoothed his hair with her hand, her eyes telling him what he wished to know. “Oh, Nicholas, I love you so.”
He drew her close, his face against her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers, he gently kissed the warm skin beneath her ear, slid his lips across her soft cheek, kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. Then he took her mouth in a long, passionate kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, her body cleaved against his.
Carrie reached up to touch his cheek. “You are real. This isn’t a dream.”
“No, my love.” Nicholas kissed her again. He held her sweet chin in his palm and ran a thumb over her full bottom lip. “Will you marry me?”
Another couple ventured out to brave the weather.
Carrie threw her arms around his neck. “Oh yes, Nicholas, yes!”
“Shall we tell my sister?”
“I’m sure Gwen will approve. She is no longer my chaperone. I have continually disappointed her.”
“Nonsense, she’s loved every minute. Have you spoken to Ludlow?”
“Yes. I told him I couldn’t marry him. He was unhappy, but I don’t think really surprised.”
“Perhaps not.” Nicholas had torn his presumptuous letter up.
“He’ll meet someone else. Someone who loves him.”
“Yes, darling, and that’s the last time we shall mention him.” He pulled her against him and kissed her again. His arm at her waist, they turned back to the door. He saw they were in imminent danger of a soaking as the rain grew heavier. Puddles formed over the terrace floor. “You’ll wet your slippers.” Nicholas swept Carrie up into his arms and made for the French doors.
A loud sigh came from farther along the terrace, where the woman and her companion sheltered from the rain.
Inside the ballroom, guests turned to stare at them. As Nicholas set Carrie on her feet, laughter and applause rippled through the crowd.
Gwen was not in her chair.
“She will return in a moment,” Carrie said, taking a seat beside him. “Tell me about Bella and Jeremy. Have they been enjoying themselves?”
“Yes. Fatigue finally claimed them. They retired to bed without a murmur tonight.”
She laughed. “Where did you take them?”
“The usual places, the museum for the better part of a day. Bella’s favorites were Astley’s Amphitheater with the dancing horses, a puppet show in Green park, and the Tower. Jeremy’s was unquestionably the Tattersall’s horse auction.”
“You are so very good to them.”
A smile teased his lips. “I believe I am. I intend to seek my reward.”
“And what is that?”
“It must wait for here comes my sister and the duchess.”
Gwen and Nellie hurried up to them.
“We heard the laughter,” the duchess said. “You have behaved quite scandalously, Nicholas.” She laughed. “But anything goes at a masked ball, and I am thrilled for you both. I must find Charles. He was lamenting only this morning how long it took you to realize you loved Carrie.”
Nicholas grinned. “Impudent fellow, but undeniably astute.”
When Nellie left them, Gwen wiped away a tear as she kissed them both. “I couldn’t be more pleased. Winston will be, too. I shall write to him tonight. We must have an engagement party.”
“We don’t plan a long engagement,” Nicholas said hastily, envisaging weeks of preparation for the wedding. “I intend to seek a special license. If Carrie agrees.”<
br />
A lovely pink flush colored her cheeks. “I do.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “I have a bone to pick with you, Gwen.”
Gwen looked the picture of innocence. “Oh?”
“What were you thinking of permitting Barraclough to waltz with Carrie?”
Gwen shrugged while looking a trifle guilty. “I didn’t see any harm in it. I would not have allowed him to take it further.”
“You know I planned to surprise Carrie tonight.”
She laughed. “I didn’t expect you to almost come to blows.”
“Not even close,” Nicholas said. “Barraclough considers himself a lover, not a fighter.”
A gentleman appeared at the top of the stairs. “The Honorable John Winston,” the majordomo boomed, his words almost lost in the din.
“Winston!” Gwen swung around.
Winston appeared, dressed in black evening clothes which, like Nicholas’s, made him stand out among the brightly arrayed crowd.
Gwen went to meet him. Taking his arm, she brought him over to them. “Miss Caroline Leeming, I would like you to meet my husband. Winston, Carrie is Nicholas’s fiancée.”
“An engagement?” He raised his eyebrows at Nicholas. “I thought it was time I found out just what my wife has been up to,” he said, smiling at Carrie. “You are as lovely as Gwen described.” He turned to shake Nicholas’s hand with a smile of approval. “Congratulations, Nicholas. Smart of you to snap the young lady up before any of these other fellows.”
Nellie and Charles approached.
Charles held Carrie’s hands and raised her from her low curtsey. “Nicholas has told me all about you, Miss Leeming.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Thank heaven he has found good sense at last. I despaired of him.”
When Nicholas raised a mild objection, the duke appraised him. “When you mentioned a heated argument about a poem, I had great hopes.” He smiled at Carrie. “I’ve never known Nicholas so stirred up about poetry.”
Nicholas laughed. “Keats is a clever fellow.”
“Then you agree it is a fine poem?” Carrie asked, her eyes alight.
Nicholas slipped an arm around her waist. “I wouldn’t dare say otherwise, sweetheart.”
***
Carrie felt as if she was walking on air. Nicholas loved her. She’d known it deep down for weeks. She’d tried to fight for him and thought she’d failed. And because she was so cast down, she’d almost settled for second best. She stood, her hand tucked into his arm as friends surrounded them. Amusing comments were bandied about as to Nicholas’s determination to remain single and become a hermit and how friends had almost given up on him. But it was all said in good part and made her laugh. In a quiet moment of reflection, she thought of her father. If you’re looking down on us, Papa, I know you’re happy in heaven.
Chapter Twenty-Six
In the final hours of the ball, as the news of their engagement quickly spread, many guests came to offer their best wishes. It was Nicholas’s hope that his flamboyant and unconventional behavior would diminish any gossip stirred up by the likes of Miss Carswell. The ton was usually forgiving of a love match.
It was almost dawn when he said a lingering and loving goodbye to Carrie and retired to his bed at Pennington Court. But he found sleep elusive, his mind filled with thoughts of their future together.
It was late in the morning when he went down to breakfast. Bella and Jeremy sat at the table, looking expectant of another outing. He wanted to tell them, but he and Carrie decided to do it together.
“Can I see Carrie today?” Bella asked.
“Your sister will be here after luncheon.”
Observing Jeremy, Nicholas picked up his coffee cup and took a reviving sip. “Jeremy, I fear you are about to throw questions at my head,” he said. “Allow me to speak before you do. You and I will leave tomorrow for Great Witcombe to visit the ruins of a Roman villa.” He smiled at Jeremy’s big grin. “I received an answer to my letter from Sir William Hicks. He has agreed to our viewing the site.”
“Is it a long way, Nicholas?”
“A lengthy coach journey, but well worth it, I suspect. They uncovered the ruins earlier this year when the gardeners dug up the roots of an ash tree from Sir William’s field. He describes in his letter an exceptional mosaic depicting many exotic sea creatures has been found.”
After breakfast, Nicholas sat at his desk to open the mail Warren put before him. “I shall need you to write invitations to our wedding, Michael. Carrie accepted my proposal of marriage at the ball last night.”
Warren grinned. “Congratulations, milord. That is excellent news. Please convey my best wishes to Miss Leeming.”
“You can do so yourself. She will be here this afternoon and will furnish you with the guest list. Say nothing to Bella and Jeremy, though. We want to surprise them.”
Warren placed a letter before him. “This arrived from the magistrate, Sir Henry Markham.”
Nicholas picked it up and perused it.
An inquest will not be held, Sir Henry wrote. After Bettencourt attacked Leeming in his cell and almost beat him to death, they transferred the men to Newgate Prison to await trial.
Apparently, Sir Henry’s opinion was unchanged. Both would face the hangman’s noose.
Nicholas put the letter aside, debating whether to tell Carrie. He decided against it. Nothing was going to spoil their happiness on this day.
After he and Jeremy returned from Hyde Park, Nicholas changed before driving to his sister- and brother-in-law’s townhouse.
Carrie came to greet him in the entry hall, wearing a fetching bonnet lined with pink silk and decorated with cherries.
“I like you in that color,” he said, kissing her cheek while aware of the interested eye of a footman.
“Gray?” she asked as he helped her into her pelisse.
“Your pink bonnet.”
“It is rose pink,” she amended with a smile.
“Ah. I must remember that. Where are Gwen and Winston?”
“Still abed. They send their regards.”
In the street, he helped Carrie into his curricle. Nicholas pulled a jeweler’s box from his pocket and turned to her. He took her hand and drew off her glove.
The diamond ring sparkled in the sunlight as he slipped it on her finger.
Carrie gasped. “Oh Nicholas, it’s beautiful!”
Nicholas kissed her. “It was my mother’s.”
He took up the reins and drove the short distance to his house while explaining his plans for the next few days.
She wrinkled her nose. “Then I shan’t see you. But it gives Gwen and me time to get things done. We have consulted her dressmaker. As my maid of honor, Gwen plans to have a new gown made.”
“Might your wedding gown be rose pink?”
She smiled. “I shan’t tell you.”
He shook his head. “Keeping secrets from me, already.”
She laughed.
After he’d taken Carrie on a tour of the house, they sat in the drawing room with the tea tray. Bella rushed in. “Oh good, scones!”
Jeremy wandered in soon after her. Spilling cake crumbs, he described his first ride in Rotten Row. “I shall gallop my magnificent stallion down the Row, one day. He will be a far superior animal to anything the ton has seen.”
“That, I look forward to witnessing,” Nicholas said wryly. “Especially when the park guards catch up with you.”
He looked questioningly at Carrie.
“We have something important to tell you both,” Carrie said, smiling at them. “Nicholas and I are to marry.”
“Oh!” With a sob, Bella left her chair to hug Carrie. She eyed Nicholas speculatively before throwing her arms around his neck with a heavy sigh. “Does this mean Jeremy and I can live at Elm Park?”
Nicholas gently untangled himself. “Indeed, it does.”
“I’ll spend my holidays there. We can ride every day, Nicholas,” Jeremy said thoughtfully, “And maybe…”
>
“We’ll discuss this later,” Nicholas said hurriedly, noting the speculation in the boy’s eyes.
“Can I see your ring?” Bella asked. “Come and see how brightly it flashes, Jeremy.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Gentlemen have no interest in such fripperies.”
As Carrie held out her hand for Bella, her smiling eyes met his.
“I intend to appeal to His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury, for a special license,” Nicholas said. “It will remove the necessity to call the banns for three Sundays.”
“It will be rushed.”
“Too rushed?”
She shook her head with a smile.
After learning she was to be a flower girl, Bella described the dress she would like made for the wedding, of crimson silk, similar to the one their mother wore in a portrait at Leeming Hall. Judging by the look on Carrie’s face, Nicholas doubted it would pass muster.
“How long will it take to drive to Great Witcombe?” Jeremy asked.
“We’ll be away for a couple of days.”
Finally satisfied, Jeremy left the room to visit the mews stables, and Bella hurried out to tell Miss Scotsdale the news.
Nicholas enjoyed the chance for a few moments alone with Carrie. He slipped his arm around her. “Michael Warren will take care of the invitations.”
“I’ve brought the list for him. Gwen and I worked on it before we went to bed.”
“You must be weary, my love.”
“Pleasantly so.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Carrie,” he murmured. He took her chin in his palm and raised her face for his kiss. Her lips softened under his, her hand stroked his nape. The kiss lengthened.
A knock brought them apart. “Come,” Nicholas said, drawing away with a sigh.
The footman entered to collect the tea tray.
Carrie lowered her head to hide her flushed cheeks. “How lovely it was of Winston to offer to walk me down the aisle.”
“He’s a splendid fellow indeed.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “I’ll drive you back. You might like to rest before dinner. Would you prefer Bella and Miss Scotsdale to stay with you while we’re away?”
Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2) Page 22
