Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2) Page 15

  “My Uncle Simon and his good friend, Monsieur Bettencourt. My uncle returned from France last night. He has expressed some eagerness to see Bella and Jeremy.”

  Nicholas’s gut tightened. He turned toward the door to the ballroom.

  “Nicholas…?” Carrie called after him.

  There was no sign of either fellow among the milling crowd.

  Nicholas returned to Carrie. Her partner stood beside her with two plates in his hands, watching in some surprise.

  “Nicholas, I should like you to meet…” Carrie began.

  “Good evening, Ludlow,” Nicholas said while gazing over his shoulder for one last search of the room. “How is your sister, Ellen?”

  Ludlow bowed. “Good evening, Lord Pennington. Extremely well, thank you. Ellen is not in London this Season because she and her husband, Mr. Ferris, are expecting a special event.”

  “Please convey my best wishes to them both.”

  “I should like a word with you, my lord, if you have a moment,” Ludlow began.

  “See me later, Ludlow,” Nicholas replied distractedly.

  Carrie turned from Ludlow to him with a confused look. “Did you wish to speak to my uncle, Nicholas? He plans to travel to the country tomorrow.”

  “Does he indeed,” Nicholas said through his teeth. “Where is he going? Did he say?”

  Carrie eyed him carefully. “He didn’t, but if it’s Elm Park, I am sure Bella and Jeremy will be pleased to see him.”

  “He is the black sheep of the family, Carrie. You are not to encourage him.”

  “Why?” She glared at him. “He is the only family we have apart from Lady Penelope.”

  “Ah yes, Lady Penelope,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. He turned to Ludlow. “Your servant, sir.” He bowed. “Carrie.”

  He made his way back to Lillian. She had left their table and was engaged in conversation with another gentleman. “I’m afraid I shall have to leave you. I must apologize again. Please forgive me.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Again?”

  He shook his head at her with a small smile. “Might I call on you at another time?”

  “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep, Nicholas.”

  After his rueful smile made her laugh, Nicholas returned to the ballroom.

  There was still no sign of Simon Leeming or his friend, the Frenchman, Bettencourt. As Nicholas went to search the other reception rooms, Simon appeared through a doorway. Spotting Nicholas, he approached him.

  “Lord Pennington. I hoped to have a word.”

  “Well, here I am,” Nicholas said, failing to shake the man’s proffered hand.

  He looked nothing like Max. His hair was light ginger where Max and Carrie’s were a rich auburn and his eyes hazel. Not the deep brown of both father and daughter.

  “I wished to thank you.”

  Nicholas raised his eyebrows. “Thank me?”

  “Yes, I was pleased to learn you stepped into my shoes in my absence to care for the poor orphaned children. But now, I am back in England and as I intend to remain….”

  Nicholas eyed him coldly. “Do you seriously believe Max intended you to take them?”

  His eyebrows slammed together, and a sour look pulled down his lips. “I had hoped you’d be more agreeable. It’s my plan to see to their welfare. I am extremely fond of them. And I am the children’s closest relative.”

  “I’m not about to deny an obvious fact. Are you aware that only the children’s father can name a guardian for his children, and such a guardianship cannot be transferred to another except by action of the Court of Chancery?”

  “Well, no, but I’m sure you would be glad to relinquish yourself of the responsibility.”

  “But I don’t wish it. I am perfectly happy to follow Max’s instructions. To the letter,” he added.

  “And they were?”

  “To keep them away from you,” Nicholas said coldly.

  Simon scowled. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Whether you do or not, those were the terms of our agreement. You are a wanted felon. I’m surprised you have the temerity to turn up here.”

  The man flushed an unattractive red. “I was unjustly targeted. They found the men behind the murder and hanged them.”

  “If you were innocent, why did you run?”

  “Should I have remained to be unfairly charged?”

  Nicholas lowered his voice as two people walked by them. “You owed the owner of the club who was murdered a lot of money, did you not? And the men they convicted and hanged were friends of yours.”

  “I don’t intend to stand here and explain myself to you. I shall see my niece and nephew, and I doubt you can prevent me.”

  “Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” Nicholas said. “If you try, I’ll set Bow Street onto you. I’m sure it would please them to bring you in for a chat.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  Nicholas’s spine stiffened. “Is that a threat? I don’t take kindly to threats. I’ve dealt with men far more dangerous than you.”

  “Wartime is different. They would have fought with honor, Pennington. I am a dirty fighter, as you will no doubt find out.” He swiveled on his heel and strode away.

  Nicholas uncoiled his fists as Simon left the ballroom. He’d longed to take a poke at the scoundrel. And he might have that pleasure before long. But the man’s declaration of future interference left him uneasy. He couldn’t afford to ignore a threat from such a man with his history of violence. The one truthful thing Simon said was that he wouldn’t play fair. Simon was as evil as the day was long. And that made him dangerous.

  Nicholas went in search of his sister. He hailed her where she stood with a group of friends.

  Gwen excused herself and came to him. “Carrie is in the supper room with Mr. Ludlow.”

  “I know.” He explained his concerns to her.

  “Simon Leeming is here?” she asked, wide-eyed. “I thought he didn’t dare show his face in England.”

  “Well, he has decided to. A plan to get his hands on a good deal of money has made taking the risk worthwhile. It appears he has left the ball. But should he return, keep him and his friend, Bettencourt, away from Carrie. I’ll explain it to her later. I am leaving now and will drive to Kent tomorrow.”

  “Why Kent?”

  “To fetch Carrie’s great aunt, Penelope, and remove her to Elm Park.”

  “But why?”

  He swept a hand across his hair. “It’s a hunch. Stop questioning me, Gwen, please, and do as I say.”

  “Very well, but…”

  “Tell Carrie I’ve been called home to sort out a matter with my bailiff. Reassure her it isn’t on Bella or Jeremy’s account. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “She will, though. Carrie is not a fool.”

  “I know.” Nicholas put a hand on her arm. “I’m confident you can deal with this. And please know how grateful I am, Gwen.”

  Gwen waved her hand. “Go then, and don’t worry, I’ll look after Carrie.”

  Nicholas spoke briefly to Charles and Nellie, then went to find his host and hostess.

  Half an hour later, he was back at Pennington Court seated at his desk, scrawling a note. He blotted it and rang for his footman.

  “Gerald, first thing tomorrow, I want you to ride to Elm Park and give this letter to my secretary. Tell him I shall follow directly. Abercrombie is to instruct the housekeeper to prepare rooms for Lady Penelope Grantly.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I require the coach tomorrow morning at seven o’clock. Advise the coachman.”

  With only a few hours left until dawn, Nicholas gave up on sleep, his mind too restless. He sat with a book he failed to read on his lap as the candle guttered. His thoughts kept returning to Carrie. She had smiled at Ludlow in such a warm manner. Ludlow was a decent man, in his late twenties, from a good family. Nicholas could not object if she wished to wed him. Their marriage would b
ring this uncomfortable business to a satisfactory end and release him from a challenging commitment. He could hardly wish for better. And yet, he felt strangely hollow. As if a part of him was in danger of being ripped away.

  ***

  Mr. Ludlow’s attitude toward Nicholas had not escaped Carrie’s notice. His voice had risen a notch or two, and he’d bowed low. Nicholas knew him and expressed no disapproval or consternation at her having supper with him. She felt ridiculously flat. “Lord Pennington knows your sister?”

  Ludlow wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Indeed. How kind of him to remember Ellen. And to ask after her! When she was first out, the marquess favored her with a dance at several balls. My family was hopeful something might come of it. It didn’t, and Ellen has been married now for several years.” He smiled, looking boyish. “My younger sister, Mary, comes out next year. A pretty girl.” He smiled. “But I digress. Miss Leeming, I wonder if I might be permitted to call on you? I had hoped to speak to Lord Pennington, but it appears not to be the right time. Perhaps I should write to him?”

  “Of course, Lord Ludlow.”

  “I shall pen an ode to your beauty, Miss Leeming.”

  “How kind. I look forward to reading it.”

  “I hope that…”

  What Ludlow hoped for went over Carrie’s head. Her uncle’s friend, Monsieur Bettencourt, had entered the room and crossed the floor toward them. She had promised to dance with him. Where had Nicholas taken himself off to? She could hardly cut her uncle’s friend. It would be considered unforgivably rude. And why should she? As usual, Nicholas failed to explain his reasons. What was his aversion to her uncle, apart from her father not caring for him? Both Uncle Simon and Monsieur Bettencourt had pleasing manners. And although she didn’t really know her uncle, he was a member of the family.

  Gwen appeared at the door. She darted through the crowd, looking elegant despite her haste. Smiling, she greeted those who called after her and reached Carrie just before Monsieur Bettencourt did. She grasped Carrie by the elbow. “I am sorry, Mr. Ludlow, you must excuse us. We are needed elsewhere.”

  Surprised, Carrie allowed her to lead her from the room. She glanced back at Lord Ludlow, who stared after them. Behind him, Monsieur Bettencourt glowered. He must be insulted. Carrie became breathless, keeping up with Gwen’s pace. She could not manage it with the same grace and was sure people were staring.

  “What has happened?” she gasped. “Where is Nicholas?”

  “My brother has left the ball. He plans to leave London in the morning.”

  “He didn’t say goodbye!”

  “No. He didn’t have time.”

  Carrie pulled away from her. “Gwen, what is the matter?” She gasped. “It’s not Bella or Jeremy, is it?”

  Gwen snatched up their reticules, shawls, and fans from their chairs and thrust them into Carrie’s arms. “No, he asked me to assure you it has nothing to do with them. But we must go home, Carrie. We’ll talk there.”

  Carrie followed her, hugging her fan and reticule to her chest, her shawl trailing behind. “But I promised Monsieur Bettencourt the last dance. What will he think?”

  “I don’t care what he thinks,” Gwen snapped. “You should not have accepted him. I am your chaperone, not your uncle.”

  They complimented their host and hostess, Lord and Lady Fitzgibbon, on a wonderful ball where they stood at the door saying farewell to guests departing into the night.

  Outside the mansion, Gwen urged Carrie into the waiting carriage as if they were escaping a fire.

  They settled back against the squab as the carriage took them back to Gwen’s home.

  “Nicholas acted strangely.” Carrie stared at her. “For goodness’ sake, Gwen. Please tell me what has happened.”

  “I would prefer Nicholas to explain it to you, but as he isn’t here, I must. Your uncle is a dangerous rogue.” She related what Carrie’s father had told Nicholas about him.

  “Uncle Simon might be a murderer? Why didn’t Nicholas tell me?” Carrie said aghast.

  “Your father asked him not to.”

  “But why?”

  “You were too young to concern yourself with such a thing. And Jeremy and Bella were children. I suppose he hoped your uncle would never return to England.”

  “But does Nicholas really think Uncle Simon wants to harm us?”

  “He is not about to take that chance.”

  Carrie sat forward. “If Nicholas isn’t concerned for Bella and Jeremy’s safety, why has he gone home?”

  “He intends first to see your Aunt Penelope in Tunbridge Wells and ask her to come to Elm Park.”

  “Then he considers this to be a serious threat. I want to return to Elm Park, Gwen. I should be there with Bella and Jeremy.”

  “That was not his instructions.”

  Carrie frowned. “Nevertheless, I will go. Would you take me? Or shall I go by mail coach?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Carrie. Of course, you can’t go traipsing around the country on your own.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll take Anna.”

  Gwen sighed. “Leaving town will be frowned upon. I have accepted invitations to several…”

  “That cannot matter now,” Carrie said firmly.

  “I see there’s no arguing with you. Nicholas will be angry with me, and quite possibly Winston, when he learns of it,” Gwen said regretfully. “Very well. We will leave tomorrow.”

  Carrie took her hands and squeezed them. “Thank you! You are very good.”

  Gwen grimaced. “Yes, I am.” She yawned. “I declare I am growing too old to deal with all this excitement.”

  Carrie kissed her cheek. “You are not!” She was going home again. A joyous feeling warmed her until she considered what might occur there. Was her uncle on his way to Elm Park? Did he have something terrible in mind? “Gwen, surely my uncle wouldn’t hurt Bella and Jeremy?”

  “Not while Nicholas is there.”

  “He is not going directly home. He is fetching Aunt Penelope in Kent, first.”

  “Yes. But he will have alerted the household.”

  Carrie took a deep, tremulous breath and fell silent. She would not sleep a wink tonight.

  The next morning after breakfast, Gwen consulted the housekeeper who oversaw the maids' swift packing of their trunks. After writing letters of apology to several friends who expected them to attend their functions, they departed the house well before noon.

  “This was not how I planned your Season to begin,” Gwen said with a sigh as they settled in the carriage with Anna.

  “I know. Poor Gwen, to have been saddled with me. I am sorry.”

  “Nonsense. I haven’t had so much fun in an age. Your absence will merely add to your allure,” Gwen said with a smile. “The Beau monde love a mystery. And we shall return before long. I am sure this journey will prove unnecessary. Nicholas will probably send us back forthwith!”

  Carrie dismissed the stab of guilt at causing so much fuss. She was confident her decision was right. She sat back and viewed the Mayfair streets passing by the window. How long before she returned to London? She didn’t care. The city had been exciting, all the attention at the ball certainly flattering, and she loved the dancing. But it surprised her how much she wanted to be back at Elm Park again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As the coach jostled along the road to Tunbridge Wells, Nicholas rested his head against his hand, his elbow on the window ledge. Was this a waste of time? He had little option; he couldn’t afford to take Simon Leeming’s threat lightly. Simon might at this very moment be on his way to see his aunt. But Nicholas had only a faint hope Lady Penelope, a woman of some sixty-five years, would agree to leave her home and accompany him on a mad dash to Surrey. She might be ill or frail. She had not attended Max’s funeral. He’d never met her and had little idea what she was like. The lady might harbor some resentment toward him because Max had chosen him to be his children’s guardian.

  After the coach pulled up
outside Grantley Grange, a redbrick manor house, he removed his hat and stood for a moment smoothing his hair back with a hand while considering the best way to appeal to her. Although the groom would walk the horses, they could not be kept waiting for hours. He decided to be straightforward. Old ladies were often shrewd.

  Her ladyship received him in the drawing room. She lifted her aristocratic, high-bridged nose and gazed at him from a damask sofa. Dressed in black, a purple turban covered her hair, a silk shawl draped over her shoulders. A gray cat with unfriendly green eyes stared at him from her lap.

  He strode forward. “Lord Pennington, Lady Penelope.”

  “Ah, Lord Pennington.” She threaded the gold chain of her lorgnette through her fingers. “I expected to hear from you before this.”

  Nicholas paused in his journey across several yards of Axminster carpet. “You did, madam?”

  She gestured to a chair. “Maxwell suggested you might have need of me.”

  “I wasn’t aware he did. But as it happens…”

  “You do.” She reached over and grasped a bell on the side table. “Shall we have tea? Or would you prefer wine?”

  “Tea, thank you.” Nicholas sat. He considered it wise to keep his wits about him. The lady’s blue eyes were sharp. “I come in the hope you will agree to return with me to Elm Park for a short stay.”

  “When?”

  “Now. Today.”

  “Today?” She pointedly glanced at the mantel clock.

  “I prefer to travel in daylight if possible. And as the distance isn’t great, I believe we might manage it. Please allow me to explain, Lady Penelope. I hope you will bear with me while I do. It’s rather long-winded.”

  “I already know most of it. Isn’t my niece in London making her curtsey to the queen?”

  “Yes. Arabella and Jeremy are at Elm Park, however, and...” Before he could draw breath, she interrupted him.

  “A pair of rascals who need pulling into line, I dare say. Max was too soft with them.”

  “Perhaps,” he said a little dryly while hoping he wasn’t about to turn their lives into purgatory. “And although I hope to rely on you to assist me with them, that is not the reason I am here. Max’s younger brother, Simon, has returned from the Continent. You might not have heard…”