Never Kiss a Notorious Marquess by Renee Ann Miller

Author:Renee Ann Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2019-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Clearly, wine could make one a ninny, or at least impair one’s hearing. Caroline blinked at the dowager. She would have sworn the old woman just said she wished Caroline to marry Huntington, not Anthony.

The dowager frowned. “Don’t gape, child. It makes one look simpleminded. Yes, yes, that’s it. Close your mouth. A marchioness-to-be must always portray an air of superiority.”

Marchioness-to-be? Goodness. The Madeira she’d drunk seemed as potent as the tincture that physician in Essex had given her. She would never swig the stuff again. She shook her head in an effort to clear the wine-induced fog muddling her brain.

The dowager’s already taut lips grew thinner. Her nostrils flared. “No, no, no. That affectation is no better. Don’t shake your head like a dog with fleas. I see I have much to teach you.”

A shadow fell over the dowager as Huntington came to stand before the matriarch. “Grandmother, what did you say to her?”

“Miss Lawrence was confused, Huntington. The chit thought I wished her to marry Anthony. No wonder she acted the lush. The boy has the morals of a—”

“Enough,” he said in a lethal, razor-sharp voice. He turned to Caroline. “I told you my grandmother’s wishes mean nothing in this regard. Don’t doubt me.”

So, she had not misunderstood. The dowager did wish her to marry Huntington. This explained the unsettling expressions Lady Randall had cast at Caroline all evening. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why didn’t you tell me it was not Anthony, but you?”

“Caroline, I will not discuss this here with these people hovering around.”

The dowager motioned to the terraced garden beyond the French doors. “Why don’t the two of you step outside? It will afford you some privacy.”

His lordship glared at the old woman. “You will accompany us.”

“Me? Why?” the dowager asked, all innocent sweetness.

“Because I’ll not have you drawing our guests’ attention to the fact that Miss Lawrence and I have stepped into the garden without a chaperone. I know what you’re about.”

Lady Huntington sniffed. “I would never.”

His bark of laughter held no humor. He offered Caroline his arm. “Are you recovered enough to walk?”

She nodded and stood.

“Grandmother,” Huntington said, extending his other arm.

With a disgruntled noise, the dowager took her place beside them. They stepped onto the terrace lit by the moon and several globed candles that hung from potted trees.

The cool evening air drifted over Caroline, a welcome respite from the heat and spirits overwhelming her senses. In silence, they walked down a path bound by two symmetrical gardens, each with boxwood, juniper, roses, and some deciduous trees and bushes still spindly without their summer foliage.

Lady Huntington’s cane thumped heavily on the flagstone. “I need to sit,” she snapped as they passed a concrete bench. “No one can see us from here. Go have your talk, Huntington, and make it quick before our guests think both you and I have abandoned them.”

“Anthony will handle it. Most likely, he’s already asked one of the ladies to play the piano.” As if on cue, the sound of music drifted in the air.

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