Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2) by Maggi Andersen (best memoirs of all time txt) 📕

fairies live in beautiful palaces under the sea. They come out under the light of the full moon.”

“Do they?” He came over and handed her the glass and joined her again on the sofa.

“Yes. They come up onto the land to dance around the hawthorn trees with the fairies who live in the garden and drink fairy wine.”

He grinned. “They will also have headaches in the morning.”

She pouted. “You are no fun, Nicholas.”

He sighed heavily. “I apologize, Carrie. But if you drink the rest of that glass, I shall have to carry you to bed.”

“I shouldn’t like to put you to the trouble,” she said solemnly as she sipped the wine. “I shall retire.”

Nicholas chuckled. “You sound like Lady Penelope.”

“I daresay I will become like Lady Penelope in time.” She put down the glass and rose to weave her way to the door. “Consigned to a dreary life.”

He rose with her, worried by her mood. “Why would it be dreary?”

She halted near the door and turned to him. “I shall be a wife, shut away and expected to bear children for my noble lord.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration? Could you say that about Gwen or Nellie?”

“It is different for them. This is not what I wanted for myself.”

“Isn’t it? It is your intention to choose a husband who will allow Bella to live with you?”

“Yes.” She put her hands to her face with a soft moan. “Oh. I am so confused.”

Nicholas was beside her in an instant. “I’m sorry you feel unsure, but I’m certain it won’t last, sweetheart. Not once you’re back in London.” He opened the door. “Shall I walk with you to your bedchamber?”

She shook her head. “You have relinquished that right.”

He blinked and dropped his hand. “Have I?”

“Yes.” She turned to walk down the corridor. In the flickering light cast by the candles in the sconces, she looked very much like a sprite in her white dress. A curvaceous and very beguiling one with a spark of battle in her eyes. How different she was from the subdued girl who first came to live at Elm Park. Amused, a little surprised, and more than a little stirred by her bewitching beauty, Nicholas smoothed back his hair and returned to his port. It would be a long night.

***

Carrie wished she hadn’t told Anna to go to bed. Undressing herself had become quite difficult. She struggled with the buttons. Once in her nightgown, she pulled the curtains back and opened the window. The bright moonlight sent dancing lights into the small pond below, making the garden appear magical and inviting. A soft breeze flowed through the window, warm and scented.

“I can’t go back,” Carrie whispered. She swung around and ran to the door. Barefooted and in her thin cotton nightgown, she made her way to the stairs, well-lit by the long window, and down to the shadowy great hall. Without a thought to whom she might encounter, she darted across the marble floors, cool and smooth beneath her feet.

No one was on duty. Relieved, for it hadn’t occurred to her that there might be, she unlocked the front door, opened it, and slipped outside.

The floral-scented air lifted her long hair from her shoulders as she followed the path around the house. When her toes touched the rough damp of the lawn, she danced, feeling deliciously free. She needed this place, her family, and Nicholas, like she needed air.

Lost in the moment, Carrie seemed to fly, her feet barely touching the ground. Then, with the sound of a window opening above her, she came back to earth. A little dizzy, her hand went to her bosom, freed from the corset.

“What on earth are you doing, Carrie?”

Nicholas.

She refused to allow him to ruin the moment. She held out her arms and twirled, her hair flying. “I’m dancing. Like the moon goddess. Might you be Keats’s Endymion?”

“You’ve had too much wine. Go back to bed before someone sees you.”

Carrie scowled up at him. She was a trifle foxed, as Bella would say, but was there not a shred of romance in his soul? “They are all asleep. It’s a lovely night. Why don’t you come down?”

“Go back to bed, please.”

“No, I won’t. But don’t let me keep you. You probably need your sleep!”

She heard a muttered curse. He moved away from the window.

Her heart beating hard, Carrie danced on. Although still defiant, she suspected she’d feel very foolish when Nicholas poured cold water over her dreams tomorrow, as he always did.

Surprised, she turned as Nicholas appeared, wearing a crimson banyan over his trousers and a white linen shirt. His throat was bare, and his hair tousled. He looked divinely wonderful, although not entirely happy to see her.

“It’s a lovely warm night,” she said tentatively.

“Yes. Isn’t it? Allow me to escort you upstairs.”

She backed away from him. “You are not my husband, Nicholas.”

“But I have your welfare in mind,” he said, following her.

Her toe struck a stone object in the grass, and she almost lost her balance. It stung, but she clamped her lips on the pain.

Nicholas reached her and put his hands on her bare arms. “For God’s sake, Carrie…”

“No. God would approve of my love of life,” she said, raising her arms to place them around his neck. “Don’t you love anything or anyone?”

“This isn’t sensible.” His voice sounded strained, but he left her hands where they were, his own resting at her waist.

She peered at him in the shadow of a large chestnut tree. Was he very cross with her? It was hard to make out his expression in the gloom. “Must we always be sensible?”

“Mistakes can ruin lives, sweetheart.”

He sounded as if he was speaking about himself. His life. What mistake made him like