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As soon as she said it Marissa regretted the words and the cool tone. A slight shadow crossed the Frenchwoman’s face, but she smiled and said merely, ‘Would you join me in a short stroll, Lady Longminster? The shade under the limes is very pleasant.’
Marissa got down and they walked in silence for a few minutes, the footman bringing up the rear, discreetly out of earshot. After a while Madame de Rostan broke the slightly prickly silence. ‘I think you may underestimate the influence you have over young Nicole, Lady Longminster. She holds you in high regard and affection.’
‘She is a very charming girl,’ Marissa replied neutrally.
‘And I must say that a year in your company has greatly improved her behaviour. She always was a sweet child, but a sad romp, and our easy ways in Jamaica are not appropriate for London Society.’
‘You are kind enough to say so, Madame, but I must deny any influence. An improvement in Nicci’s behaviour must be put firmly at the door of Miss Venables, who has much experience with young people.’
Another silence ensued. Madame de Rostan unfurled her own parasol. ‘It is strange to see Nicci – and Marcus, of course – away from Jamaica. Do you not find it odd when one encounters people out of the milieu one is accustomed to seeing them in?’
‘I really could not say,’ Marissa replied indifferently.
‘I have known them both for such a long time,’ the other woman said, with a hint of gritted teeth.
‘So I believe.’
‘Of course in any relationship things change over the years. Feelings alter and mature, passions mute into friendships. I always think it is a wonderful thing when friendship survives when other, more intense emotions wane.’
Marissa stopped abruptly and stared at the Frenchwoman, who smiled at her.
‘You understand what I am saying to you?’
‘You are telling me that you are no longer Marcus’s mistress.’ She could feel the heat in her cheeks at the frankness of her own words, but it was said now. ‘I do not understand why you should tell me that.’
‘Do you not?’ The blue eyes sparkled quizzically. ‘Well, perhaps this is not the time or place to say more. Let us just leave it that I thought things would be clearer between us – more comfortable, shall we say?’
Marissa blushed furiously. Were her feelings for Marcus so transparent that in such a short space of time this woman – even though she had never set eyes on her before – should realise that she needed to be reassured? And if Diane, not knowing her, could see it, was it blindingly obvious to Nicci, to Jane – to Marcus himself?
Madame de Rostan was still smiling. ‘Do not upset yourself, cherie. You are afraid you are being obvious, non? But you are not. Sometimes, perhaps, it takes an outsider to see what those who are close to us cannot.’
‘You think I am in love with him?’
‘Well?’ The Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow. ‘You are, are you not?’
‘Certainly not. I am, after all, in mourning for the late Earl.’ Her fingers were twisting the strings of her reticule and she stilled them with an effort.
‘Mourning?’ The other woman looked up and down the stylish primrose-yellow outfit, the frivolous bonnet and the jaunty parasol.
‘I have only just resumed wearing colours. And Marcus is my late husband’s cousin.’
‘And that makes him no relation to you,’ Diane interposed smoothly.
‘I like him very well. He has been kind to me during a very difficult period in my life.’
‘Kind?’ Diane de Rostan seemed to be considering the word. ‘So that is how he strikes you? Well, if I have misinterpreted the situation, please accept my apologies, Lady Longminster.’
Marissa turned and began to walk back to the barouche. When they had passed the waiting footman and were safely out of earshot again, she said, ‘Indeed, you have misinterpreted my feelings. I do hope I can rely on your discretion to say nothing of this conversation to the Earl of Longminster?’
They reached the carriage. Madame waited until the door was closed and Marissa seated. ‘I would never gossip to Marcus.’ She smiled. ‘Goodbye, Lady Longminster. I have enjoyed our little chat.’
As the carriage drove out of the park and into King Street Marissa reflected uncomfortably that those parting words had hardly been the reassurance she had requested.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time she reached Grosvenor Square Marissa’s unease had turned into a strong suspicion that Madame de Rostan had been laughing at her for being naive. The entire conversation had been shocking and improper. Diane was obviously fast, Marissa concluded, and must have taken delight in scandalising someone she saw as a prim and proper dowager.
Sweeping across the hall, untying the ribbons of her bonnet as she went, she had one foot on the bottom stair when she heard the study door open and Marcus demand, ‘Where have you been? I thought you were resting in your room.’
