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"And deplete his coffers as well."
Her mother tittered as if it had been a joke, but Marissa didn't worry too much. She knew Edward budgeted a certain set amount for their mother's frivolities every year. On occasion he stepped in to replace, say, the fantastically expensive French red roses with more economical English roses, but with instructions for the florist to call them by a French name. He was smart enough to handle the dowager baroness.
And Marissa could not worry over Edward's pockets; she was busy worrying over Jude's nude body and whether she'd ever see it again. He'd been so angry. She'd meant to sit beside him in the coach and poke and prod until he revealed what he was feeling, but now it looked as if she'd be stuck with her mother.
She set her jaw, and when the footman bowed into the room and allowed that the carriages were sufficiently warm, Marissa waved her mother ahead. "After you."
She followed her to the lead carriage and managed a glance inside while her mother was boosted up and settled. No Jude there, just Harry and Edward and Aunt Ophelia. Though Marissa set her foot to the step, she then stopped and looked around as if startled. "Oh, pardon me, mother. I just remembered that I need to speak with Aidan quite urgently!"
"But, Marissa!" her mother gasped as Marissa spun away and rushed for the second carriage. Before she readied it, she heard her mother sigh out "Well, Baron York, I suppose you shall have to help me decide."
Poor Edward.
But she'd managed to escape, so she couldn't summon much sympathy as she snapped open the carriage door and hoisted herself up. Her wrap trailed behind, so she hauled it in before dropping into the seat next to Aidan.
And across from Jude.
She pushed down her nervousness and met his eyes straight on. Her cheeks felt a little warm, but she thought she detected a hint of red high on his cheekbones as well, and that gave her the courage to raise one eyebrow. Jude glanced away and pretended to look out the window.
"Good evening, sister," Aidan drawled. She glanced over to see him sprawled against the seat with his eyes closed. He looked like an unrepentant rake, arms crossed and legs stretched out as if he were trying to catch a nap before the festivities.
"Late night?" she asked.
"I couldn't sleep," Aidan answered with a yawn.
"How did you sleep, Mr. Bertrand?"
"Well," Jude answered.
"Really? I found myself quite fitful. My mind would not stop racing."
"Sign of a guilty conscience?" he mumbled.
Aidan huffed a laugh. "That's generally my problem. Perhaps it's a family trait. Are you feeling guilty about this drama you've involved the whole county in, Marissa?"
"I did not involve them! And no, it wasn't guilt. 'Twas anger at Jude. Do you know that woman confessed that she had considered falling in love with him?"
Aidan squinted past one open eye. "Did she? That's a merciless snare, my friend. I'd tread softly."
"Aidan York!" Marissa snapped. "Jude is my fiancé!"
He closed his eyes again. "I thought you wanted free of him."
"I—" She looked from her brother to Jude, horrified that it had been put so bluntly. Jude's dark eyes narrowed at her hesitation. "It's not that. We both agreed that we would treat the betrothal respectfully."
Her brother grunted his disinterest.
Jude resumed his effort to ignore her, but Marissa couldn't leave it be. "I've only been trying to talk with you. Can you not spare me a few moments of your attention?"
"I'm no good for such niceties as talk," he growled.
"All right," Aidan said, pulling himself upright to bang on the ceiling of the carriage. The wheels slowed. "I can't spend forty-five minutes in here with you two. It's impossible to breathe in here with all the unspoken accusations clouding the air. I'll ride above. Behave yourselves."
He jumped out, and she was left alone with Jude, who sat glaring at the door Aidan had just slammed.
Electricity hovered between them, as if a great tempest were building above their heads. The carriage rocked and then began its journey again.
"Why are you being so cruel?" Marissa asked.
