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“What are you two doing today?” Claire asked as she began to eat.
Allen looked at Marcus and grinned. “I’m going to see Ainsley. She’s going to show me the sights.”
Marcus snorted. “That what they’re calling it these days?”
Allen flushed scarlet. “Shove it,” he growled good-naturedly. He looked at Marcus. “What are your plans?”
He smirked. “I’m going to join you and Ainsley.”
“If you must,” Allen growled.
“I’m only joking. I’m going to call on Cecelia.” His groin tightened at the thought of calling on Cecelia. “And then we’re going to do whatever she had planned for herself today.” He grinned at the thought. He didn’t even care what it was. He just wanted to be with her. They could darn socks all day and he would be happy.
He tossed his napkin onto his plate and stood. “Speaking of which, could you make my excuses to Mother and Father? I don’t want to wait for them to come down.”
Claire stabbed a fork toward him. “You may want to send a calling card, first, Marcus, to be sure she’s receiving callers today.”
He’d never sent a calling card in his life. She would receive him. Any alternative was laughable. “Why would I do that? She’s not angry at me anymore.”
“Straightened all that out, did you?” Claire asked.
He grinned. They’d more than straightened it out.
Claire raised a brow at him and said to Lord Phineas, “Darling, why don’t you tell Marcus where we went last night?”
Lord Phineas shot her a look hot enough to scorch paper. “I’m certain he doesn’t want to hear about that.”
Yet Claire continued. “I took Finn to see the cabin. You remember Grandfather’s old hunting lodge, don’t you?” She tilted her head at Marcus, but the wry tilt to her mouth told him she knew already.
“I remember it.” He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night, truth be told. “You say you took Lord Phineas?”
Damn it all. The maid was supposed to go this morning to change the rumpled sheets and do the housekeeping.
“Mmm-hmm,” Claire hummed.
“Damn it, Claire,” he began.
Lord Phineas sat up taller and said, “Watch it, Marcus.”
“Apologies,” he murmured. “Stop acting like the cat that ate the cream.”
; “I will as soon as you admit what’s going on,” she shot back.
“I admit nothing,” he batted out.
“I’m guessing it was Cecelia, wasn’t it?” Claire asked, not the least bit sly about her probing.
“Leave it alone, Claire,” Lord Phineas warned.
“Listen to your husband, Claire,” Marcus warned as well.
“Oh, posh. I have your best interests at heart, Marcus.” She suddenly sobered. “How is Cecelia?”
He shrugged. “She’s well.” Probably sore, but that wasn’t anything Claire needed to know about.
“I have heard some things, Marcus,” she started.
