“Milady, Jamison is waiting out front with the horses.” Augusta was relieved to hear the butler’s voice rather than that of her mother. “Shall I tell him to take them around to the mews until you are ready?”
“No, no. I’m coming.” She yanked the drawstring tight and hurried toward the door. But after several steps, she caughtherself, turned back and snatched up the missive to the earl. The sooner Jamison delivered it to Pritchard’s, the better.
In her rush, the other papers on her desk were forgotten, along with the unlocked drawer sitting slightly ajar.
It wasa tad early for a morning call, yet Marcus was too impatient to wait any longer. He had already drawn a number of puzzled looks by driving twice through the park at such an unfashionable hour. No doubt, he thought rather uncharitably, by next week every young sprig would be tooling his phaeton along the Serpentine at some ungodly hour, thinking it all the crack to be doing so.
Vaulting down from his perch, Marcus mounted the marble stairs as his tiger led the team up the street to cool them down. The door opened to the sound of the heavy brass knocker and he was ushered inside. To his chagrin, the elderly butler informed him in a doleful voice that Lady Augusta had gone out.
For a moment, he hesitated. “Have you any idea when she might return?”
The man gave a solemn shake of his head. “Lady Augusta does not always see fit to inform us of her intentions, milord.”
Ha! That he could well believe. His lips tugged downward and the ebony walking stick in his gloved hand began to tap with some force against the side of his well-polished Hessian. It looked as though there was no choice but to try again later?—
“Jenkins, I wonder if you might help me with—” Marianne stopped short on catching sight of the earl in the entrance hall.
“I beg your pardon for calling at such an early hour. But I was hoping that I might find your sister at home,” said Marcus, making a slight bow. With a cursory glance, he took in thesoftly rounded curves of her petite figure, the halo of golden curls framing her delicate features and had to admit that if one favored young misses straight from the schoolroom, the girl was indeed a real beauty.
Intimidated by the rather grim scowl on the earl’s face, as well as recalling his unflattering assessment of her passed on by Augusta, Marianne’s mouth opened and closed several times before any words came forth. “She is … out.”
“Yes, so I have been informed,” he answered dryly.
A flush of red rose to her cheeks. “Oh, now you truly think me an idiot, and this time with reason,” she blurted out. “I don’t usually act as bird-witted as this, but … you took me by surprise, sir.”
She was not the only one to color. “Forgive me for startling you, Lady Marianne.” He cleared his throat. “And it appears I have a good deal more for which to apologize.” He gave a wry grimace. “Though I must say, it was not terribly diplomatic of your sister to repeat certain unfortunate remarks. I fear I was not in the best of humors that evening and was moved to voice sentiments that were most unfair.”
A twinkle came to Marianne’s eyes. “I imagine you have now come to realize that diplomacy is not a trait often associated with my sister.”
Marcus repressed a twitch of his lips. Despite the difference in physical appearances, the family resemblance was quickly becoming obvious. He was indeed wrong to have thought her a vapid milk-and-water miss. It was clear she had at least some of the same sharpness of wits as her sister. “Still, she might have done better to hold her tongue.”
“Oh, Gus tells me everything.” There was a brief pause, after which Marianne added under her breath, “And if she doesn’t, I can usually find a way to worm it out of her.”
His scowl had by now been replaced by a ghost of a smile. “Did she by chance tell you when she might return?”
“She rode out with Jamison a short while ago, but did not leave any word about when she might be back.” A frown tugged at her lips. “Lud, she couldn’t possibly be trying—” Suddenly aware of what she was saying, she fell silent.
“No, I doubt even your sister would attempt anything really illegal in broad daylight.”
Marianne looked a trifle relieved. “I suppose you are right, sir. She may have Jamison twisted around her little finger, but he is not entirely without sense.” She thought for a moment. “And surely, if she was expecting you?—”
The earl gave a slight cough. “As to that, I merely stopped by in the hopes of borrowing a book that I know your sister recently purchased at Hatchard’s. It was the last copy, you see.”
“Oh.” Marianne considered the matter briefly. “Well, I can’t imagine why she would object to that. If you wish to follow me to her study, you are welcome to take it with you now—that is, if you can locate it among all the others.”
It was clear her sister didn’t tell Marianne quite everything, else she would scarcely think that Lady Augusta would findanythingabout him welcome, least of all his presence. He hesitated a moment, reason warring with curiosity. Perhaps it would be the polite thing to return at a later time, when the lady in question could decide for herself what she wished to do. That such an action would also afford him an opportunity to converse with her was, of course, only of secondary consideration.
However, Marcus had to admit he was intrigued by the idea of seeing her private study, and the sorts of reading material and personal things with which she surrounded herself. And after all, he really needed that book.
He would have all the more reason to explain his actions to her when he came to return it …
“I should be most grateful,” he replied.
“Please follow me, milord.”
He wasn’t quite prepared for the sight that met his eyes when Marianne pushed the door open. The desk, nearly as large as his own, was not at all the delicate gilt creation he imagined a young lady would favor. The wide expanse of polished oak was, as Marianne had warned, stacked with a number of weighty volumes, as well as what looked to be a thick manuscript, a large inkwell and an assortment of pens. Books were also piled on the carpet by her chair and on the settee near the window.
Marianne gave a wry grimace. “I did warn you, sir. Gus is, ah, making a few notes on something that interests her.”
