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Thinking of the circumstances under which she had heard Jane, Marissa felt herself blush. Jane, after a searching look at her heightened colour and escaping hair, said sharply, ‘Marissa? Have you been alone again with his lordship? Is there anything you wish to say to me?’
‘Er, no.’ Marissa felt like a naughty schoolroom miss caught kissing the music master. ‘I just happened to meet Marcus in the garden. The roses are most delightful. We must pick some for the breakfast table.’
She should have known that Jane had not been a governess for over ten years without being able to detect prevarication when she heard it. ‘Really, Marissa, do you think I was born yesterday?’ she demanded. ‘I am not lecturing you and Heaven knows I am not responsible for your morals. After all, you have been a married woman and are old enough to conduct your own affairs. But do consider the proprieties, please. I will retire and say goodnight now.’
Chapter Nineteen
The thirtieth of May dawned clear and bright and the ladies breakfasted in their rooms to speed the business of getting ready. At ten o’clock Jane, magnificent in bronze twill with an almost jaunty bonnet of moss-green silk and feathers, looked around Marissa’s bedchamber door.
‘Are you almost ready, my dear? Oh, now, that is nice,’ she said approvingly. ‘I knew you were right to choose that simple fern-green jacconet cloth – it sets off the lines of your new pelisse to perfection. Understatement is the very essence of elegance, especially when one has the height and figure to carry it off, as you do.’
Marissa smiled her thanks at the compliment as she took her seat at the dressing table to allow Mary to set the dashing O’Neil hat, with its high crown and curving brim, on her head. She had heeded Marcus’s plea not to have her hair cropped, and the maid had piled up the luxuriant mass on her crown and allowed only the little curls around her hairline to peep out from under the arc of the brim.
‘How very fashionable, dearest!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘When did you buy that?’
‘Last season in Norwich. I could not resist it, even though I knew I could not wear it for some time.’ She bent to give Gyp one last caress and a stern warning not to bother the footmen too much. ‘Is Nicci ready?’
‘She was so excited last night I doubt she has been to bed, so she had better be. Her brother warned her that if she were not down by ten he would leave her behind – and I fear he was not speaking in jest.’
Marissa had pushed thoughts of Marcus firmly to the back of her mind, determined that nothing should spoil her day at the races. She would face up to breaking her betrothal later that week. She pushed to the back of her mind the fact that the evening before she had quite made up her mind on her course of action and it had only taken a second in his arms for her resolution to crumble utterly.
The clock struck ten and they picked up their reticules and sunshades and stepped out onto the landing as Nicci’s door opened.
For a moment both were speechless, then Jane’s cry of dismay echoed round the landing. ‘Nicole. You cannot go out dressed like that. Go and change immediately. Where did you get that hat?’
‘It is a lovely hat and I am not going to get changed and I think this will be the most striking outfit on the course.’ Nicci stamped her foot and refused to move.
Marissa gazed thunderstruck from deep purple pumps, up the length of what had begun as a simple white cambric gown but which was now transformed by an abundance of dark ribbons and braid, to Nicci’s crowning glory, a bonnet of midnight-purple ruched silk, edged, trimmed and lined in white satin with an abundance of white bows.
She finally found her voice. ‘You bought that in London when Madame de Rostan left you with the Misses Richardson, did you not, Nicci? How you could have thought for a moment that this would be suitable for a young girl…’
‘What is going on?’ Marcus ran up the stairs. ‘The carriage has been at the front door these last fifteen minutes and I do not care to keep my horses waiting… Good grief, Nicci, you look like a magpie! Marissa, whatever possessed you to allow her to rig herself up like that?’ Despite his words he sounded more amused than annoyed.
‘My lord, I believe you may lay this unique outfit at the door of your friend Madame de Rostan. I can claim no credit for it. Nor do I intend to make any further comment – doubtless you can prevail upon your sister to change into something more suitable. It seems that neither Miss Venables nor I have that sort of influence any longer.’
Marissa swept downstairs with a faintly clucking Jane on her heels. She had surprised herself at the sudden wave of anger that had swept through her. In the carriage, listening to the raised voices issuing through the front door, she examined her mood. Annoyance with Nicci, of course, but also, maddeningly, annoyance with herself, that Marcus’s attention had been entirely on his sister’s outrageous outfit and not on her. She had wanted to look good on his arm, to do him credit, to be seen and admired with him on this one day before she broke off the betrothal. And to be blamed for the effects of Diane de Rostan’s influence was the very last straw.
Five minutes later Nicci swept triumphantly out of the door, her outfit intact. Marcus, on her heels, caught Marissa’s eye and shrugged. She returned the look frostily and averted her face.
Jane was still protesting as the doors of the barouche were shut behind him and he took his seat. ‘But, my lord, you cannot possibly permit Lady Nicole to appear in public in such an unsuitable outfit.’
‘Why not?’ he enquired laconically. ‘Do you fear some gamekeeper will mistake her for a magpie and shoot her? Quite frankly, Miss Venables, I am just thankful that she is decently covered. And when people laugh at her she will soon learn her lesson.’
‘Ha! Much you know about it,’ his sister riposted. ‘All eyes will be upon me.’
‘Precisely,’ Marcus said drily, and looked out at the passing countryside.
Derby Day was one of the highlights of the Season and the ton was out in force. The racecourse was already a sea of colour from the fashionable gowns and parasols, the uniforms of the many officers, the silks of the jockeys and the gay bunting on the pavilions. The barouche drew up alongside ranks of other elegant carriages and Jane exclaimed with pleasure at the sight of so many acquaintances.
Nicci was bouncing in her seat with excitement. ‘Come on, come on, we are missing everything! We must promenade.’
‘Calm down, Nicole,’ Ja
ne chided as the footman helped them to descend. ‘Too much excitement is so unsophisticated – surely you do not wish to appear gauche?’
Effectively quelled, Nicci fell in beside the others and began to stroll meekly along, casting looks from under her bonnet-brim to see what effect her outfit was having.
Marcus shepherded them through the entrance into the Royal Enclosure and found a place by the rail where they could assess the horses being led around the ring. He had acquired race cards for them all and began to describe the runners and riders.
