Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tonight’s recital was the last Society event before Almack’s special ball Saturday night. Mari had lost much of her enthusiasm for attending anything since the fencing duel two days ago when Jamie had turned and walked away. If Maddie were not playing the first movement of Beethoven’sThird Symphonythis evening,Mari would have pleaded a headache and stayed home. She was still tempted to do so anyway.
She would not be lying about the headache. Mari stared at herself in the mirror in her chamber and wondered what was wrong with her. Nicholas had called on her yesterday afternoon, bringing roses and talking enthusiastically about posting banns at the church on Sunday.
Jamie had not appeared at all. Mari moved to the window seat and slumped into it, looking at the empty courtyard below. There was no clinking of swords today nor any curt commands directing the inept footmen in how to use a weapon. How many hours had she sat here and watched Jamie instruct them? Watched his tall, muscular body move with its own rhythmic grace? Waited to see if he’d look up to her window?
Jamie totally confused her. For certain, she did not like his ordering her about and expecting she obey him, but since her time in Scotland, she better understood part of it was the Highland way, and that all the MacLeods were bossy. Jillian didn’t seem to mind, and Ian demonstrated a tenderly protective side Mari would not have believed he had. Jamie had shown an equal protectiveness, risking his own life when she made her foolish foray into the snowstorm—and the warm, wonderful aftermath when they’d almost made love. Then Jamie had ignored her for the week their bedchambers adjoined each other. Yet, two days ago, he had fought for her honor because of that scandalous painting. And then he had walked away.
Lud! If she kept thinking about Jamie, she would soon be a Bedlamite.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aunt Agnes stuck her head in and then stepped inside, frowning as she saw the gown lying on the bed. “Mr. Algernon will be here any minute. Why are you not ready?”
“I really do not feel terribly well.”
“Nonsense. You have hidden yourself away since the horrible dueling episode.” Her aunt held the gown up for Mari. “Do you wish thetonto think you are ashamed to show your face? You know how easily gossip starts.”
“Theon-ditsare already flying.” As if gossip could be stopped after everyone had seen the location of her birthmark. Mari had turned on Nicholas later, demanding to know why he’d said he hadseenit, and he had begged her forgiveness saying he only meant to put Jamie in his place. Mari had not been happy with the explanation, but she had not seen Jamie to tell him what really happened.
“All the more reason for you to be seen holding your head up high,” her aunt was saying. “Mr. Algernon may not have used the best judgment in painting you, but heisFrench, and they have a different sense of perspective about such things. What matters is he is making an effort to make things right by offering for you.”
“What if…what if I do not wish to marry him?”
Her aunt looked at her incredulously. “He is everything you said you wanted. The patronesses of Almack’s adore him, and youknowhow important it is to have their approval if you wish to be included in any of Society’s events.” She paused, scrutinizing Mari. “Is this reluctance because of Jamie MacLeod?”
“Of course not.” To cover up what she was sure was a beet-red face, Mari got up, slipped on the gown and turned her back to allow her aunt to fasten it. “You know how much I dislike Jamie telling me what to do all the time. Besides, he does not care for London or any of our social events.”
“You would do well to remember that, Marissa,” her aunt said and added, rather cryptically, “Mr. MacLeod has not offered for you either.”
Those words stung. Mari wanted to tell her aunt about the hand-fasting, but what good would it do? The idea was Ian’s maneuvering, meant to smooth things over for everyone in Scotland. It was never meant to be implemented.
Her aunt finished fastening the gown and turned Mari around. She swept a curl behind her ear and then put a hand on Mari’s shoulder. “A leopard cannot change his spots to tiger stripes, my dear.”
Mari was still mulling over those words when she and Nicholas arrived at the recital hall an hour later. They were more than fashionably late, a fact that did not seem to bother Nicholas at all but drew frowns from several of the matrons, most of whom had daughters performing this evening. Jamie was already seated with Maddie’s family across the room from her. Mari met his gaze briefly and thought she saw a deepening flicker of gold in his eyes, but then it was gone, his face impassive.
Mari arranged her skirts and pretended to study the programme. For a leopard not changing its spots, Jamie looked very elegant in proper English attire. Why had she never been able to convince him to wear it? Still, she knew her aunt was right. Jamie MacLeod was a Highlander. Scotland was in his blood. He would never be truly happy within the confines of any city, let alone London with its proper protocol and expectations for the gentry.
“You are being very quiet this evening,” Nicholas said.
“I have not been feeling well.”
His glance slid over to where Jamie was engaged in conversation with Maddie. “It would not have something to do with MacLeod, would it?”
Mari hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Of course not. Why would you ask?”
Nicholas’s eyes glinted like icicles. “We are about to be betrothed. I will not allow the Highlander to trifle with you. If he does, I will call him out and first blood will not be the stopping point.”
“You know I dislike violence.”
“Then remember your place. You are mine.”
Mari bristled. She was about to tell Nicholas no one owned her, but the first piano piece had begun. They were already receiving looks from nearby guests, so she fumed silently.
Her mood did not improve after Maddie finished her piece and returned to her seat, only to have Jamie take her hand and sweep a kiss over her knuckles. When had Jamie become such a gentleman? Maddie giggled, looking radiant. Whether that was from the applause she had received or from Jamie’s attention, Mari wasn’t sure, although she suspected the latter. Whenever Mari had complained about Jamie’s behavior, Maddie had always championed him. She’d known her friend liked him.
Mari sighed. She should not begrudge Maddie. Since their return to London, Nicholas had taken up most of Mari’s time, and Jamie—with the exception of the saber duel—had not indicated any interest in continuing his protective guardianship of her. If she were totally truthful with herself, she rather missed his hovering intrusion.
Jamie had said she would have to choose whom she wanted. Watching him with Maddie, she wondered if she still had a choice. He was certainly being attentive to Maddie. Mari could hardly march over to where he sat and tell him she wanted him. Maddie’s mother was smiling benevolently at Jamie, while he looked quite at ease talking to the earl. Altogether, they looked like a happy, contented group.
