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‘Other gentleman?’ she asked. ‘Which other gentleman?’ She could guess the answer.
‘The dark one. Looked like a foreigner, if you ask me, duck. One of those Italians, I’ll be bound. Nice clothes though, for all that.’
‘No,’ she said steadily, conscious of Marcus moving up closer behind her. ‘Did he leave a message?’
‘Oh no, duck. Just to say he’d catch up with you when he needed to.’
Chapter Six
Nell travelled to Stanegate Court in the carriage with Diana Price and the Carlow sisters. Lord and Lady Narborough took another carriage and a lumbering coach followed conveying valets, dressers and luggage.
Despite the cold, Marcus rode, giving Nell an excellent opportunity, should she feel so inclined, to admire his horsemanship, his well-bred mount, his glossy boots and the breadth of his shoulders under the caped riding coat. He appeared to have discarded his sling. After one glance, she turned her attention firmly to the interior of the carriage and told herself it was his business if he chose to aggravate the wound by vigorous exercise. She was not responsible for male pride.
‘Marc prefers riding to driving,’ Verity confided. The direction of her gaze had been noted. ‘He rides very well.’
‘So does Hal. He rides even better,’ Honoria said, with the air of someone continuing a long-standing argument. ‘Hal is our other brother and he is a cavalry officer, Miss Latham.’
‘Marc drives better than Hal,’ Verity retorted.
Diana rolled her eyes at Nell. ‘Your brothers ride like centaurs,’ she said. ‘Both of them. They also ride neck or nothing, have been brought home on a hurdle many times and I hope I do not have to remind you, Honoria, not to try and emulate them.’
‘Miss Latham—’
‘Nell.’
‘Oh, thank you, that is much cosier.’ Verity, with her engaging smile, seemed little more than a girl, hardly ready for her first Season. Nell smiled back. ‘It is very nice that you are able to join us. But I didn’t know Marc knew you, so how—’
‘Verity—’ Diana began.
‘Nell saved Marc from a footpad,’ Honoria said, regarding Nell’s flushed face a little quizzically. ‘And she delivered that parcel for Papa, only—’
‘It was such a shame that when your brother went to thank her he met someone with a pistol,’ Diana said brightly.
‘Oh, I see.’ Verity subsided, obviously satisfied with the explanation. Honoria, it was equally obvious, was putting two and two together and coming up with at least six. A little smile tweaked at the corner of her very pretty mouth and there was a twinkle—not unlike Marcus’s—in her eyes.
She thinks he and I are…involved, Nell thought with a sudden flash of insight, followed by a wave of embarrassment. But surely she would not think her brother would bring his mistress to his parents’ house?
‘Lord Stanegate is worried that the man might attack me, because I was a witness,’ she said with what composure she could, telling herself that she was refining too much upon every change of tone or fleeting glance. ‘He may well live near my home, you see.’
The remainder of the journey passed safely enough, aided by Miss Price’s travelling chess set and Honoria’s bag full of fashion journals, although not without both sisters bemoaning the necessity of their father’s health requiring country air so close to the start of the Season.
Stanegate Court was a surprise. Nell had not known what to expect, but it had not been this low, rambling house of half timbering and mellow red brick, its roofs swooping in the comfortable sag of age, and woodlands of ancient beeches and oaks crowding close on the frosted hillside behind. If she had visualised Marcus anywhere it would have been in chilly Palladian splendour with ordered rooms and ranks of pillars.
‘It is bigger than it looks,’ Honoria commented as the carriage drew up in front of a vast timbered porch. ‘There are wings at the back at all sorts of odd angles. Mama and I think the whole thing needs pulling down and rebuilding in the modern style, but Papa and Marc wouldn’t countenance it.’
‘But it is perfect,’ Nell breathed as she alighted, stopping to admire it as the other women walked towards the door. ‘Perfect.’
‘You think so?’ She turned to find Marcus behind her, reins in hand. He was white about the mouth and had thrust his right hand between the buttons of his coat to support the arm.
‘You should not have ridden,’ she said, frowning at him and ignoring the question. ‘You have doubtless inflamed the wound.’
‘Your concern would ring more truly if you had not been the instigator of the damage,’ he replied, his voice as chilly as she was beginning to feel. He was tired and in pain, she was certain. And of course, being male, was not going to admit as much, let alone that it was his fault, so his temper was raw.
‘It would be most inconvenient for me if you were to die,’ she darted back at him. ‘And besides, it was entirely your fault!’
‘That you were carrying a loaded pistol?’
‘I did not know it was,’ she protested.
