Rogue of the Isles (37 page)

“With Parliament closing, we will all be able to retire to the country after Almack’s,” the baron said, changing the subject. “I am looking forward to a bit of quail hunting myself. Our estate is not far from Cantford and Newburn, so I hope you will join me some time.”

“And we will have parties too,” Maddie added, looking like she wanted to say more, but her mother frowned at her.

“Getting out to the country and hunting is verra appealing,” Jamie answered as the baron’s carriage approached and the footmen leapt down to open the door for the ladies. “I thank ye for the invitation.”

Jamie watched as the coach pulled away. He’d like nothing better than to leave for Cantford right now. He could use some fresh air and the peacefulness of the country, but Mari was here and, fool that he was, he hoped she would change her mind about the damn Frenchman.

Jamie went to the stable to get his horse, wondering how Mari had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. What had begun as an oath to her sister to protect Mari—albeit with a bit of wheedling to see her temper rise—had turned into something more. Mari was entangled in his every waking thought and, since the episode on that wintry morning in Scotland, in his nightly dreams as well. Not that he’d let the wee minx know. Mari already had more of a hold on him than any woman he’d ever bedded—and he hadn’t even gone that far with her.

Did she really prefer the French dandy to him? Jamie contemplated as he rode toward the boarding house. Not that he was wont to boast, but he could honestly not remember a time when a lass rejected him, and he had no idea how to handle such.

Jamie had hoped dueling for Mari’s honor would convince her he was the better man. He clenched his fist at the thought of the Frenchman painting the birthmark. What liberty had the bastard taken? And
when
had it happened? With the exception of Mari’s devious deception the day she’d gone to those blasted gardens with Algernon, Jamie couldn’t think of an instance where he had not known her whereabouts. He wouldn’t put it past the French blackguard to lie, but how had the man known about it?

Perhaps Jamie didn’t know Mari as well as he thought he did. The expression on her face—as well as the look on Maddie’s—when Algernon reminded Mari that she’d agreed to his exclusive courtship in front of witnesses, made Jamie realize it was true. His hand tightened on the reins, causing his horse to toss its head. Immediately, he relaxed his hold and stroked the gelding’s neck, soothing him with soft words.

If only he could let go of his anger as easily. A new emotion akin to despair swept through Jamie as he reached the boarding house and dismounted. Was the reason Mari never tried opening the door between their bedchambers the last week in Scotland because she already considered herself to be unofficially betrothed to Algernon?

A wave of betrayal washed over Jamie. What other secrets did Mari keep?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Oooh, your gown has arrived,” Maddie said to Mari as Effie brought in the box from Madame Dubois the courier had just delivered. “Let’s take it upstairs. I cannot wait for you to try it on.”

“I suppose I had better make sure it fits,” Mari replied.

Effie gave her a sharp look and then preceded the girls to Mari’s chamber where she laid the box on the bed and lifted the silk gown from its nest of tissue. The sun streaming through the window caught the shimmering, iridescent shades of silver and pale blue as she shook it out.

“It is beautiful,” Maddie said breathlessly. “You will be the envy of every girl there. I dare say Mr. Algernon may have to fend off a number of gentlemen as well.”

Mari doubted Jamie MacLeod would be one of them. Almack’s’s ball was this evening, and he had not dropped by the townhouse nor had he sent a note. “I am sure Violetta and Amelia will upstage us all,” she said.

“They border on risqué,” Maddie replied. “You will be beautiful.”

“So will you. The buttercup color of your gown will bring out the red in your hair,” Mari answered. “You will probably have a line of gentlemen waiting to sign your dance card.”

“Mr. MacLeod has promised me a dance already,” Maddie said, a dreamy expression sweeping over her face. “I hope Mama allows him to have two.”

“I sure she will,” Mari said automatically, but her face felt tight.
She
would not be dancing with Jamie. Nicholas was escorting her tonight, and she would be expected to stay by his side.

“Mama and Papa do like Mr. MacLeod,” Maddie prattled on, unaware of the sudden tenseness in her friend. Mari did not answer, removing her day dress instead. She slipped the delicate material of the ball gown over her head, allowing the soft lines to fall naturally along her hips, swaying gently when she turned to have Effie do the buttons. The neckline swooped slightly low, exposing only a hint of cleavage, but Mari tugged it up, not wanting any part of her birthmark to show. The fact she had nattered on about it to Nicholas had already created a scandal. For certain, she wanted no one to even get a glimpse of it.

Why had Nicholas painted her like that? With all the shocked expressions when the portrait had been unveiled, the only one Mari remembered was Jamie’s—a little muscle had twitched when he set his jaw in a hard line, but it was his eyes, darkened to brandy-color when he looked at her, that haunted her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry, but there was also disbelief and puzzlement in his gaze—and she had not had a chance to explain how Nicholas knew about the birthmark.

“I should be going,” Maddie said. “Mama wants to make sure my hair is done perfectly for tonight.” She giggled as she turned to the door. “Would it not be absolutely wicked if the dance with Mr. MacLeod was a waltz?”

Mari managed a smile. “Perhaps it will be.”

Effie was unusually quiet as she undid the buttons and helped Mari remove the gown after Maddie had gone. Mari was grateful since she did not feel up to casual chatter at the moment. She had absolutely no right to be upset with Maddie who, after all, thought Mari was blissfully happy with the upcoming betrothal announcement. Nor did she have any reason to be jealous that Jamie had promised a dance to Maddie. Still.

Watching her best friend dance—or maybe even waltz—with Jamie was not something she wanted to endure.

“You are going to lose that man,” Effie said abruptly.

Mari swallowed hard. “Whom?”

“Do not play coy with me, miss. You know whom.”

“I am sure I do not—”

“Hmmph. It is as plain as the nose on your face that you love Jamie MacLeod.”

“Do not be silly, Effie. I find Jamie bossy and—”

“I was not blind in Scotland, Miss. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other. Just like Jillian and her husband.”

“What are you talking about? Ian loves Jillian.”

“Do you think Jamie would have risked his life in that blizzard going after you if he did not feel the same?”

“He was just being gallant. Jillian said Jamie reminded her of Gawain from King Arthur’s knights.”

“I do not read much, but it does not take book learning to see what is in front of me. Jamie MacLeod loves you. Or, at least, he
did
.” Effie hung the gown on a hanger in the wardrobe and went to the door. “If I were you, miss, I would swallow my pride and go to him before it is too late.”

Mari sank onto the bed in her chemise after Effie left. Dear Lord. What was she going to do?

The ballroom was hot, almost stifling, with the crush of bodies at Almack’s. Why had Mari never noticed how packed these affairs were? Peals of laughter from women’s voices and men’s low rumblings mixed with sounds of scraping chairs and the orchestra tuning their instruments to create a din of noise Mari had not noticed before either.

Violetta and Amelia gushed up to greet her, although neither of them gave her more than a glance before batting fans and eyelashes at Nicholas. Mari had to admit he looked extremely dashing this evening. His blond hair was slicked back, and the green satin of his waistcoat beneath an exquisitely tied snowy cravat and frilled shirt matched his eyes. His boots were so highly polished Mari could almost see her reflection in them. He bowed elegantly to the girls, causing both of them to flutter their fans furiously.

“If you ladies will excuse me, I will get us some punch,” Nicholas said, “or perhaps some ratafia?”

“Oooh, yes,” Amelia squealed while Violetta managed a more demure “yes” while blinking her eyes to the point where Mari wondered if she’d gotten something in one of them. Both of them watched Nicholas walk off in pursuit of a waiter. On another occasion, Mari would have felt jealous, but tonight she was just annoyed.

“Oh, look,” Violetta said to Amelia, ignoring Mari now that Nicholas was out of sight. “The bluestockings are here.”

Mari glanced in the direction they were looking. Abigail and Olivia had taken chairs against the wall, close to where the chaperones sat. Mari bit her lip, wishing she’d had more time after her return to convince Abigail to order a gown in a more becoming color. She had beautiful auburn streaks in her hair, if she’d just wear it down. Olivia Ashley, seated next to her, looked like she wanted to blend into the wall, and she almost did—her gown being nearly the same mustard color as the wallpaper behind her.

“You would think they would have given up the idea of snagging a husband at Almack’s,” Amelia said.

“They are a little long in the tooth,” Violetta replied, and both girls giggled.

Mari frowned. She didn’t know shy Olivia very well, but Abigail was a friend, and both girls had every right to be there. “They are only a few years older than we are.”

Violetta and Amelia stared at her as though she had just uttered blasphemy, and then they returned to their conversation.

“With as wealthy as the Earl of Sherrington is, I am surprised someone has not offered for Abigail,” Amelia said.

Violetta sniffed. “Well, most men do not want a woman with scholarly opinions.”

“I heard Olivia helps her father with the accounting at his firm,” Amelia said smugly.

“No,” Violetta exclaimed. “How…how
common
.”

Mari’s temper rose, but she was prevented from retorting by Nicholas’s return with a tray of drinks and by the musicians beginning the first tune. She had known the debutantes were snobbish, but she had not realized just how cruel they could be, although she remembered how scathing the cut-direct had felt at Lady Tindale’s
soiree
.

And how Jamie had saved her from public humiliation by going to talk to Lady Jersey. Mari had only found that out much later when Maddie overheard her mother talking to a friend about what a gentleman Jamie MacLeod was.

Why had she never noticed?

As she accepted a glass of the sweet liquor from Nicholas, Mari searched the room for Jamie. She spotted him at the same time he looked at her, and she smiled. But his eyes had already cut to Nicholas standing beside her, and he looked away.

“Shall we dance?” Nicholas asked a few minutes later when the orchestra began its second set.

Mari put her hand lightly over his and let him lead her in a cotillion. Once, as they performed the steps in the movement, she saw Jamie out of the corner of her eye with Maddie. An odd sense of relief flooded her that they were not dancing a waltz. She stumbled slightly and Nicholas caught her.

“You do not seem very focused,” he said as the dance ended.

“I am sorry. I…I have not been feeling well.”

“So you have said,” Nicholas answered.

Mari let her gaze roam the room, and it rested on Jamie talking with Maddie not far away. Quickly, she looked away, but not before Nicholas noticed.

“It seems your friend and the Highlander are making quite a splash,” he said, a hard edge to his voice.

“Y-yes, they are.” Indeed, Maddie’s face was flushed, and Mari could see her friend’s eyes were glowing even from where she stood. Jamie appeared to be attentive.

If I were you, miss, I would swallow my pride and go to him before it’s too late
. The words echoed in Mari’s head, and a wave of nausea flooded her stomach.

“I think I am going to be ill. I need to go home.”

“Nonsense. We are going to announce our betrothal when the orchestra breaks,” Nicholas said. “You will just have to manage.”

Mari did not like his clipped tone nor his lack of even a pence’s worth of sympathy. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. And maybe she
was
seeing him for the first time. His eyes were cold, not warm like Jamie’s. Now that she thought of it, Nicholas had not once come to her rescue. When she’d sent him the note conveying Jillian was ill and she was leaving for Scotland, he had not come by to see her off or even voiced any concern. What was worse, he had used a piece of private information to paint that ghastly portrait.

Jamie had tried to purchase it and then gallantly defended her honor with the duel and finally, cut the thing to shreds when she said she never wanted to see it again. Jamie had done that for
her
. Memories flooded her mind of all the times she’d been annoyed with him for
protecting
her when—at least most of the time—he’d been rescuing her from her own foolishness.

Why had she never noticed? She glanced across the room again. Maddie was smiling and nodding at something Jamie said. He caught her gaze just as she was about to look away, and for just a moment, she thought she saw something spark in his eyes before he returned to his conversation with Maddie.