***
With boots crunching on gravel, Nick impatiently paced the gardens of Russell House. He examined his timepiece with a glower. He'd been cooling his heels for considerably longer than the promised hour. He wondered why the devil it was taking so long to repair a gown. Then again, unlike Marcus, who'd had a number of mistresses, Nick had little understanding of women or their attire. What he did understand was the importance of attending the dinner party, not just for Marcus's sake, but for his own.
His sole chance for advancement was tied to Marcus. He'd prayed his best friend would abandon his plan to seduce Miss Trent and spend more time in preparation for the peace congress, but that prayer had obviously gone unanswered. Why the devil had Marcus put him in this situation when he had important work to do? Now he feared he'd get nothing done. He hoped he wouldn't be forced to endure prosaic pleasantries for the entire journey. He despised meaningless conversations. Once more, he cursed Marcus's impetuosity.
Although she was undeniably lovely, he couldn't comprehend Marcus's sudden obsession with a woman he'd hardly spared a thought for in the past six years. Then again, Marcus had always been given to caprice. It was one of myriad differences in their respective characters. While Marcus was charming and charismatic, the type to command any room, Nicolas was far more reserved and circumspect. He despised the kind of attention that Marcus seemed to crave. Nevertheless, they'd been the best of chums since boyhood, when they'd met at Westminster School.
"Mr. Needham?" A soft feminine voice drew his attention toward the terrace door. He glanced up to find Lady Mariah poised on the steps leading into the garden. "Lady Russell asked me to inform you that we are prepared to depart." She took a tentative step toward him. "I'm so very sorry to have kept you waiting so long."
"Pray don't trouble yourself," Nicolas reassured her, forgetting his displeasure the moment his gaze fixed on her face. "I trust all is now in good repair?"
"Yes. It is as good as new. See?" She spun around to show the repair to the rent gown, looking over her shoulder with eyes sparkling and a hint of roses coloring her cheeks. "Lady Russell's abigail is miraculous with a needle."
"She is indeed," he replied absently. "I can find no remaining sign of the damage." Not that he'd really looked. His attention was suddenly on the woman wearing the gown rather than the garment itself.
If asked the day before, he would have sworn her eyes were gray, but here in the garden, they seemed to have taken on the hue of the surrounding greenery. Likewise, the morning sun revealed distinct streaks of gold in what he had formerly considered nondescript brown hair. He had not previously thought Lady Mariah particularly remarkable. Compared to the statuesque Athena that was her cousin, the diminutive and delicate Mariah had seemed a bit colorless, but seen out of doors in the sunlit garden, she was altogether lovely, like some misplaced wood nymph. He shrugged off the fanciful thought and came toward her, offering his arm. "If you are ready?"
***
Mariah stood back as Mr. Needham handed Lady Russell into the carriage. It took several minutes before she managed to settle her ridiculously voluminous skirts that took up nearly all of the forward-facing seat. "My dear Mariah, I fear you must needs take the seat opposite. Otherwise, you will be swallowed up in my silks."
"Of course, my lady," Mariah replied, wondering why Lady Russell had worn such enormous hoops for traveling. She wondered if this was also part of the master plan. Perhaps Lady Russell had intentionally worn them so Lydia would be forced to ride with Lord Marcus. Mariah was filled with equal parts shock and admiration for the lady's sheer audacity. She'd played them all like a master puppeteer.
Reclining back against the red velvet squabs, Lady Russell retrieved a small green bottle from her traveling satchel. "Laudanum," she explained. "I am an exceedingly poor traveler. I find the incessant rocking of the coach wreaks havoc with my constitution. Thus, I prefer to sleep." She uncorked the bottle, wrinkled her nose, and took several delicate sips. "There now." She replaced the bottle with a smile. "Let us be off to Bedfordshire. Mr. Needham!" she called out the window. "I am ready to depart."
Mariah exhaled a sigh of relief that Mr. Needham had decided to ride with the coachman, only to suck in a breath as the door opened. She held it as he climbed inside, filling the small space beside her with his very large presence. He looked to the rear-facing seat with an expression of confusion. "My dear Needham," Lady Russell said, "I count on you to keep our guest entertained while I lose myself in the arms of Morpheus."