The Marquess Who Loved Me - By Sara Ramsey Page 0,57
him to be confident. For the next few months, at least, he owned her. But perhaps he, like her, had realized an unfortunate truth in the darkness of her studio the previous night: he could have had her without spending forty thousand bloody pounds to force her.
That thought brought her up short and cut the mutual seduction they’d woven. “What shall it be, Lord Folkestone? Piquet? Whist?”
Her cool voice didn’t deter him. He held out his arm. “Take a turn in the garden with me, if your guests can spare you. There’s a bit of outdoor business we need to discuss.”
His tone, like hers, lost its flirtatious edge. She couldn’t say no — his request was odd, but her refusal would be odder still. She nodded once. “I will need to change if I am to be outside,” she said.
She had changed out of her comfortable morning dress for the archery and her white Grecian gown was no match for the snow. He nodded. “I shall await you in the entrance hall in half an hour.”
He left without waiting to see if she followed. She sent her guests on their way to the saloon, knowing that they would spend the afternoon dissecting whether “a turn in the garden” was code for something more nefarious, but there was nothing she could do to stop it — particularly when she didn’t know what Nick’s intentions were.
By the time she reached the foyer, clad in a thick walking dress, flannel petticoats, sturdy boots, and a fur-lined cloak, she was brimming with curiosity.
“Did you find something during your conversation with the tenants?” Ellie asked as Nick put on his hat. “Or is this about…something else?”
He slanted her a look that said he’d rather this were about their bargain, but he shook his head. “The tenants had nothing of value to report, and there isn’t time now for our…other activities. But there’s something I wish for you to sketch.”
He said nothing more as he led her down the hall to his study to retrieve a sketchpad, and then back past the dining room to the green baize door to the servants’ hall. She had been in their domain less than half a dozen times in her entire tenure as marchioness, but Nick walked through like he was well acquainted with the rooms.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To one of the outbuildings,” he said, steering her through the kitchen and around the massive spits where two boys turned the rods that roasted a score of pheasants over the fire. “We could have gone through the gardens, but it’s too cold for my blood.”
She didn’t complain. Even for someone who had stayed in England all her life, the weather wasn’t pleasant. But when they reached the servants’ entrance and found Marcus cooling his heels on a bench near the door, she came up short.
“You shouldn’t keep a traitor at your back when you’re looking for a killer,” she said to Nick. “Take care, or he may sell you out to someone else.”
Marcus winced. “Ellie, I am sorry. Again.”
She waved a hand. “Claibornes are always sorry. I should have known better than to trust you. You’re cut from the same cloth as all the rest.”
He had stood when she arrived, but rather than giving way, he leaned against the door and blocked their route. “Say what you will about me, but I did what I thought was best. You had more money and comfort these past ten years than your actual funds would have given you. Nick’s money kept you free to pursue your own passions rather than marrying someone else. And it seemed that Nick might never come home. You were the only thing I thought would lure him back. As it turns out, we should have hired people to try to kill him in India — it might have brought him back years ago and saved all of us some heartache.”
He grinned at her. The old Marcus was back — the one who had been her friend after he could see beyond the fact that she’d broken his brother’s heart.
She sighed. “That doesn’t make it right, you know. I don’t think I can forgive you for this.”
His smile died. “Seems that none of us can forgive each other.”
Nick intervened. “Can we discuss this somewhere else? Half the servants are listening to us.”
Ellie looked around to find more footmen, scullery maids, and chambermaids milling in the kitchens than were strictly necessary. She found her butler in the