“Of course,” Nicholas said and smiled slightly. “That will be no problem.”
The lass was up to something, Jamie thought two days later as he ushered Ian into the library so they could talk. Mari had been all sweet smiles when Jamie had returned from his conversation with the duke at the party. He had half expected—actually, he had fully expected—she would defy his request to stay inside the ballroom, but he had found her talking to Maddie and the rather serious-looking daughter of the Earl of Sherrington. Nor had Mari balked when he suggested it was time to leave, although he wondered where the damned Frenchman had gone off to.
Jamie might have dismissed the whole thing except Mari had actually asked his permission—that was the word she used—to take some clothing and food to the orphanage near London Bridge. He’d accompanied her and, instead of her usual refrain that she did not need his protection, she had simply smiled and nodded. She had even greeted Ian earlier with more enthusiasm than he felt was warranted.
The lass was definitely up to something.
“Since I have nae said a word about problems at Cantford or Newburn, something else must be troubling ye,” Ian said as he removed a small, silver flask from his top coat and added a nip of whisky to the tea the maid had delivered. He held the flask up. “Would ye like a wee dram?”
“Nae.”
One of Ian’s brows rose. “Nae to a dram or nae to a problem?”
“Nae to both.”
Ian set the flask on the small table beside his armchair. “The estates seem to be doing well, even with the new butler at Newburn, although I admit when the messenger arrived saying ye had hied off to London, I had a mind to box yer ears when I saw ye.”
“I would like to see ye try,” Jamie replied in brotherly fashion and then shrugged. “I gave ye and Jillian my oath to protect the lass. I wasna able to persuade her to stay at Newburn.”
Ian lifted both his brows at that. “I never thought I’d hear ye admit ye couldna persuade a lass to do yer bidding.”
“Yer sister-by-marriage has a stubborn streak as wide as the River Tay. And a wee temper to boot.”
“One that I seem to remember ye enjoyed goading.”
Jamie grinned. “Aye. I do like having a wee bit of sport with her.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “That sport wouldna include—?”
“Nae, it wouldna.” Jamie would have taken affront at the suggestion, but he recalled the kiss he’d shared with Mari—the satin feel of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her breasts against his chest as she had freely returned his tongue play—and realized he had wanted more, much more, so how could he take affront? “The lass is pure.”
A discreet scratch at the door interrupted Ian from continuing his line of questioning. Jamie went to the door to find Givens on the other side.
“Yes? What is it?”
The butler took a deep breath and handed Jamie a note. “Miss Barclay asked me to give this to you.”
All Jamie’s senses went on full alert, like they did before he went into battle. He eyed the folded vellum as though it might hold a poisonous viper. Givens looked at a spot in the air over his shoulder.
This was nae going to be good.
Reluctantly, Jamie took the note and unfolded it. As he read it, he let out a roar that brought Ian to his feet and had Givens taking two steps backward before pausing to adjust his jacket and resume looking at the air.
“Is she still here?” Jamie managed to ask in something less than a shout.
“No, sir.” Givens took another deep breath. “Miss Barclay specifically asked me to wait until the carriage had collected her and the maid before I was to…er, disturb you.”
“Disturb me? The little vixen—” Jamie stopped his rant as Ian approached and took the note from him. “Did Mrs. Stokely approve this?” he asked Givens.
“I do not think so. She left quite early for the boarding house.”
Jamie clenched his fists, causing Givens to blanch. He forced himself to loosen his hands, although if Ian made even one comment about the lass escaping, Jamie would be more than happy to box his brother’s ears. Maybe even get into a full brawl. That would feel even better. He motioned for the butler to go, and Givens didn’t wait to be told twice. Jamie shut the door behind him and waited. Maybe Ian would oblige him. Just one wrong word…
But Ian only frowned. “Who is this Algernon that’s taken Mari for a carriage ride?”
“Damn fancy painter from Paris who wears lace,” Jamie muttered. “Bastard actually sends the lass flowers and poetry too.”
Ian studied him. “Ah. I think I see.”
Jamie glared at him. “Ye see nothing. I told ye the lass was willful. ’Tis a wonder my hair is nae turning grey.”
Ian merely smiled and handed him the flask from the table.
Without another word, Jamie drained the contents.
Chapter Fifteen
Mari couldn’t believe how easy it had been to get away—that is, if she ignored Effie’s scowl and pursed mouth. No doubt, there would be the devil’s own due to pay with Jamie later, but she would not concern herself with that now.
Nicholas had spared no expense in obtaining a very fashionable two-horse barouche with plush, burgundy velvet squabs. The top of the highly polished carriage had been turned down, allowing all to see Mari being publicly courted as the matched bays briskly trotted toward Hyde Park. She was glad the day was warm enough that she needed no pelisse over her fitted, dark-blue wool carriage dress for the garment suited her coloring. She adjusted the lighter blue bonnet slightly and gave a merry wave to two matrons out for a late morning stroll. The day was just perfect.
If only Effie would stop muttering about dire consequences. Really. What could Jamie do besides rant and rave? With his brother present, he might not even do that. After all, Mari was doing nothing wrong. Carriage rides and picnics were perfectly acceptable ways for a gentleman to pay court, provided a chaperone was present—and Effie was quite proficient at chaperoning.
“Do stop worrying and try to enjoy the day,” Mari said to her.
Effie gave her a dark look and set her lips in a tight line.
Across from them, Nicholas smiled at Mari. “I thought we would circle the Ring before finding a picnic spot. I want all of London to see how beautiful you are today.”
Mari felt herself practically preening at his words. She knew it was flattery, but it was exactly what one might expect if one were invited to the prince’s court. With as popular as Nicholas was becoming with Almack’s patronesses—he’d finished a portrait of Lady Sefton who had crowed about it at the last soiree—that just might be a possibility, although Mari doubted the prince regent would host anything this autumn. Still, there was the spring Season. Mari bounced in excitement, drawing another look of disproval from Effie. Remembering she was being seen in London Society, Mari folded her hands in her lap.
“How kind of you,” she said demurely to Nicholas.
“It is the truth,” he answered. “I am quite proud to be escorting you. Especially,” he added, “without your usual bodyguard.”
Effie harrumphed.
Mari ignored her. “Mr. MacLeod is fortunately busy today.”
“Which makes me a most grateful man,” Nicholas responded. “I should like to enjoy our picnic without practically being held at sword point.”
Mari giggled. Jamie probably would have hulked over them, the great claymore sticking out over his shoulder as they ate their lunch if he had come along. Blessedly, Ian had business with him and, for once, Mari was free. “We will not have to fret about that today.”
Effie harrumphed again.
Mari sighed inwardly. Jamie had managed to charm her candid maid just as he had Aunt Agnes and Maddie and most of the ladies of the ton. Of course, he didn’t follow any of them around, giving orders and expecting to be obeyed. Maybe if he did, those ladies would not find his handsome face or his husky burr so captivating.
She really needed
to stop thinking about Jamie MacLeod.
Resolutely, Mari spent the next hour smiling and waving at occupants of other carriages ambling along the Serpentine Ring as well as strollers who stopped to stare. Being seen with Nicholas was exciting.
“And now for the picnic I promised you,” Nicholas said as the driver left the park through the Marble Arch and headed up Baker Street.
“Just where are you going?” Effie asked suspiciously. “There are plenty of places in the park to eat.”
“Do not worry,” Nicholas reassured her. “I just thought we might go to Queen Mary’s Gardens. It is a bit more quiet there.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Mari said quickly before Effie could launch any more accusatory words. How embarrassing if Nicholas were to get the idea that he was not trustworthy. To make sure her maid had no further comments, Mari chattered the distance it took them to arrive at Regent’s Park.
“Here we are,” Nicholas said a short time later as the driver stopped the team close to a flower garden nearly hidden by a sloping hill. He helped Mari and Effie down and took the blanket and basket from the carriage, telling the driver he could return for them in an hour.
Nicholas spread the blanket on the ground, helped Mari to sit and then busied himself opening the wine while Mari unpacked the picnic contents. Effie raised an eyebrow as Mari uncovered a small, silver dish of foie gras along with a wedge of soft brie and a freshly baked French baguette, but she sniffed appreciatively as Mari unwrapped a succulently roasted pheasant and set out a small jar of orange marmalade.
“This is a wonderful feast,” Mari exclaimed.
“Since I am doing Countess Lieven’s portrait, I was able to convince her chef to put this together,” Nicholas replied as he handed Mari a crystal glass of wine.
“I am not sure Marissa should be drinking spirits,” Effie said.
“Nonsense. This is a German Riesling not any stronger than Ratafia,” Nicholas said and poured a glass for Effie. “Please have some.”
“I do not think—”
“Don’t be silly,” Mari interjected. “It will not hurt to have just one glass.”
Effie took the proffered glass reluctantly. “It is really not proper.”
“No one will tell,” Nicholas said with a conspiratorial wink, pouring some wine for himself and lifting the glass. “I propose a toast. To two of the most lovely ladies in London.”
Effie turned quite pink, and Mari giggled as she raised her own glass. “And to one of the finest gentlemen in the city.”
“Thank you,” Nicholas said. “It means a lot to me to have you say that.”
Mari smiled happily and sipped her wine, feeling truly like a princess. As Nicholas divided the chicken onto the three china plates the chef had also provided, Mari thought how sweet and considerate it was of Nicholas to have included Effie in the meal. Not all men would be so kind.
Nicholas kept up a light chatter as they ate, asking Effie’s advice as to where he might take Mari provided Effie came along. Mari suspected he was trying to soften up her sometimes quarrelsome maid, but she was delighted Nicholas was discussing further outings.
“And now for dessert,” Nicholas said as they finished the meal. “I had these made at the new chocolate shop off Bond Street.” He produced two small white boxes, one tied with pink ribbon and the other with green. Handing the green one to Effie, he opened the pink one for Mari.
“Oooh, chocolate truffles. I love these.”
“I thought you might.” Nicholas turned to Effie. “Please. Enjoy yours as well.”
Mari hid a smile. If there was one food Effie did not have to be encouraged to eat, it was chocolate. She began every morning with a cup of hot chocolate regardless of the weather. “Go ahead,” she encouraged. “I will share mine with Nicholas.”
“That is very kind,” he said as he took one, “but I insist the rest are yours.”
Reminding herself ladies did not take big bites, Mari nibbled at the delicate treats, savoring the full, rich smoothness of the chocolate as it melted on her tongue. Effie finished all six of hers before Mari began on her third. Not wanting to appear a glutton, she closed the box and returned it to the basket. “I will take those home.”
“As you wish,” Nicholas answered and put the top back on the basket. “Would you care to take a short stroll?”
“I would.” Mari glanced at Effie, who looked well-sated. “Perhaps you could watch the supplies?”
“Go right ahead,” Effie said with a wave of her hand. “I will just relax a bit.”
Mari nearly gaped at her. Her maid was not going to insist on accompanying them? Effie was never that agreeable, but who was Mari to argue? Perhaps it was the chocolate. At any rate, Mari was not about to turn down an opportunity to finally be alone with Nicholas, even if was in the middle of the afternoon in a public garden.
As if he read her mind, Nicholas leapt up and extended his hand to help her to her feet and then tucked her hand inside the crook of his arm. “I believe just over this crest is a lovely little pond,” he said.
As they walked leisurely toward the pond, Mari thought how gentlemanly Nicholas was to slow his pace to match hers. Goodness, if this had been Jamie walking with her, she’d practically be trotting to keep up. Of course, Jamie was taller and had longer strides…
Why on earth was she thinking of Jamie MacLeod when she was finally alone with Nicholas? Lud, the next thing she would be doing was conjuring the Highlander to appear. That was nonsense, though. Jamie would have no idea where she had gone. She had made the note intentionally vague.
“Two pence for your thoughts?” Nicholas asked.
“Oh, nothing special. I am just enjoying the gardens.”
“Good. Then perhaps we could sit a bit.” He motioned to a stone bench not far from the water where several small children were feeding the ducks.
“That would be nice.” Sitting down, she waved at two young mothers, one of whom she recognized as a neighbor of Maddie’s. The woman looked startled and then as recognition dawned, she waved back.
“You know those ladies?” Nicholas asked.
“The one with the auburn hair. She was quite the stare a few Seasons ago before she married.”
“She is nowhere near as pretty as you,” Nicholas responded. “I shall have to find a serene and restful spot in which to paint you soon.”
“Why so peaceful? Do I seem the quiet, passive sort?” Mari asked out of curiosity.
“Not at all, chère. The pastoral setting will frame your blonde hair and fair complexion, but it will also serve as a contrast to the fiery spirit I sense in you.” He paused, narrowing his eyes to study her. “Indeed, I think I might like to paint you in ivory silk, but with the gown partially undone, exposing your bosom just short of indecency, but a bit scandalous.”
Mari widened her eyes. “I do not think either Aunt Agnes or Jillian would approve that.”
“Your sister is not here, and your aunt need not find out until the portrait is complete.”
“I am not sure…” Mari hesitated.
“About what? The painting would be artfully done and the talk of the ton. I was thinking perhaps exposure to here.” Nicholas raised his hand, indicating the area just across the tips of her nipples. Mari leaned back quickly.
“That would be far too much.”
He tilted his head. “Why? I assure you, in France, many aristocratic ladies have their portraits done like that.”
“This is not France. Besides, that would expose my birthmark.”
“You have a birthmark? How intriguing.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What does it look like?”
Mari shrugged and looked away, embarrassed. “It is small and pink. Jillian always said it looked like a fleur-de-lis.”
“How fitting, chère. The flower of France. Please do not think me indelicate, but where might this delightful feature be precisely?”
Her face felt on fire. “We should not be discussing this.”
; “A thousand pardons, but there is no reason to be embarrassed, chère. To a man, the idea of such a beautiful little mark is enticing. Do not keep me in suspense, s’il vous plait.”
Still looking at the ground, Mari indicated the top of her right breast. Nicholas caught her hand and squeezed it briefly.
“Merci for trusting me. We will not speak about this again, but I shall dream of it.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, Mari closed her eyes and turned her face upward toward the sun peeking out from fluffy white clouds. Perhaps its warmth would steady her nerves…and then she gasped as Nicholas’s mouth came down on hers.
It was not a long kiss, nor a particularly tender one as Nicholas took advantage of her open lips to thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Mari pushed at his shoulders instinctively and he slowly withdrew, smiling as he straightened. “I have wanted to do that for a long time.”
Mari felt flustered, but not in the way she had when Jamie kissed her. That had made her insides go all mushy and warm. This kiss merely shocked her and, looking over Nicholas’ shoulder, she could see it had the same effect on the two mothers who grabbed their children and hurried off.
“That was most improper.”
“Forgive me. Did I offend you?”
“Yes. No. I mean—” Merciful heavens, what should she say? “I think we had better go back.”
“Certainement.” He stood and extended his hand. Mari put hers into his, not sure if she should.
He bowed gravely, although he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I promise not to bite, mademoiselle.”
Oh, dear. Nicholas must think her a complete twiddlepoop to let a kiss bother her so much. He was probably used to sophisticated French women who would take such a thing as a casual endearment and nothing more. And he was calling her mademoiselle rather than chérie. Had he suddenly lost interest because she was so naïve? Resolutely, she tucked her hand inside his arm and managed a smile. “I did not think you would bite, Mr. Algernon.”
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