Chapter Twenty-Six
Mari gaped at Mrs. Fields and then hurried to the parlor where she hoped Aunt Agnes would be waiting. Thankfully, she was. “What has transpired in my absence?” Mari asked without preamble as she took a seat.
Her aunt set her teacup down and looked up. “Good afternoon to you too, Marissa.” She looked past Mari to Jamie, who had stopped just inside the door. “And to you, Mr. MacLeod. Thank you for seeing my niece safely home.” She selected a dainty sandwich from the tray in front of her. “I presume Jillian is well?”
“Yes, she is,” Mari replied. “I would not have returned otherwise. Now, please tell me what Mrs. Fields meant about my being betrothed to Nicholas.”
“It is quite true. After you left for Scotland there was a frightful amount of gossip regarding your unescorted trip to Queen Mary’s Gardens.” Aunt Agnes held up her hand as Mari began to protest. “I realize Effie had attended you, but the woman was ill. Baron Dunster’s neighbor and her friend were adamant you and Mr. Algernon were alone in the gardens and that he kissed you.”
Mari did not dare look at Jamie, She heard what sounded suspiciously like a growl from near the door where he still stood, but she wasn’t sure. “It was not all that much of a kiss,” she said and heard the sound again, a bit louder this time.
Her aunt gave her an annoyed look. “I should think you would understand that no public display of affection is proper, Marissa. Whatever were you thinking to allow it?”
“It happened so fast—” She paused. Yes, that sound coming from Jamie was definitely a growl. Mari slanted a glance at him. His golden eyes looked decidedly wolfish at the moment. She turned quickly back to her aunt.
“Nothing else happened. We left shortly after that.”
Her aunt’s expression darkened. “Yes. The two of you were seen by those same women, apparently alone in the carriage.”
“Because Effie was ill and lying down in the seat,” Mari exclaimed.
Jamie stepped forward and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If these gossips ruined the lass’s reputation, I will call the man out to do battle with me. Mari and I—”
“No!” Mari stopped him before he could say anything about their being hand-fasted. Her aunt would no doubt swoon at the thought, not to mention the servants were probably hovering in the hallway. “Violence will not solve anything.”
Jamie set his jaw stubbornly. “’Tis a quick way to settle the matter.”
“The matter has already been settled,” Aunt Agnes said. “Mr. Algeron told me he wanted to do the honorable thing and offered for Marissa’s hand. Since Jillian is not here, I accepted.”
‘You accepted?” Mari was almost as annoyed with her aunt as she was with Jamie when he gave her orders. Did no one think she was capable of making her own decisions? “What if I do not wish to marry right now?”
Her aunt picked up her teacup. “You should have thought about that before you took such a risk. Just be thankful that Mr. Algernon is doing the honorable thing.” She turned to Jamie. “Given the circumstances, I think it would be best if you stayed at my boarding house. I had a room prepared for you.”
Jamie looked at Mari, but she studied her hands. Without a word, he turned and walked out, and she heard the front door close behind him.
Lud! How could she be betrothed to two men without her own permission?
Nicholas poured a large dose of expensive French cognac into one of Wesley’s cracked clay mugs and tossed nearly half of it down in one swallow.
“You seem to have lost your refinement,” Wesley commented as he sipped his own brandy.
Nicholas slammed the cup down, nearly sloshing the remains over the rim. “That damn Highlander is back.”
“So is Marissa Barclay. Did you expect her to travel alone?”
“Of course not. I expected her to be sent back with a handful of soldiers along with her maid, and that damn MacLeod would tend to his own matters at Raasay. Does that forsaken isle run itself?”
Wesley shrugged and reached for the brandy decanter. “It probably does since it is not well populated. I am sure a trusted kinsman was left in charge.”
“Well, this sure as hell complicates things.”
“Why? I would think the manner in which you painted the Barclay bitch would pretty much assure she is tainted goods not even a northern barbarian would relish.”
“It was a stroke of luck the chit mentioned her birthmark to me, was it not?” Nicholas smiled smugly. “Painting it close enough that part of the nipple showed will have a shocking effect on those damn foolish matrons at the nextsoiree.”
“Too bad you didn’t just paint her nude.”
“Tsk. Tsk. That would be far toorisquéfor proper London Society. Even I could not offer for her if I had exposed all of her charms.”
