Miss Marcie's Mischief (23 page)

Marcie asked the maid to inquire if there might be room for her aboard the wagon.

Nan frowned. "So you are giving up on Cole Coachman, are you? Does this mean you've decided to take up your cousins' offer of introducing you to the Marquis of Sherringham?"

Marcie, not forgetting her promise to Nan, nodded. Besides, she was too tired to argue again about consenting to consider some stuffy marquis.

"Well, then, I guess this is good-bye for now."

"It would seem so," said Marcie. She turned toward her friend, giving her a warm hug. "I'll not forget you, Nan. Let us promise to keep in touch."

They hugged each other tight for a moment, and then, when the maid returned with news that Marcie could indeed find a ride to Stormhaven, they parted company.

Marcie watched as Nan headed out the inn door. She wouldn't cry, she told herself. She wouldn't. But as the latch dropped into place, and as she imagined Nan scurrying for the Mail coach—and Cole—Marcie's tears fell unchecked.

It would be a very, very long time before Marcie would be able to forget Cole Coachman. Indeed, Marcie admitted to herself, she knew she would
never
forget him.

* * *

Cole saw Nan returning to the coach. "That was a quick good-bye," he said.
Too quick,
Cole thought. Though the parcels had been unloaded, he felt somehow unsettled, as though he'd left something undone. No doubt it was because he had not had the chance to say a proper farewell to his Mistress Mischief.

As for Jack and Miss Deirdre, the two would be staying on at the inn for an indefinite time.

"I've decided to turn over a new leaf in life," Miss Deirdre explained to Cole, as Jack unpacked the last of her baggage. Miss Deirdre's voice dropped a note as she said, "Jack and I will soon be married."

Cole shook his head, not a little amazed. "You must love him very much to give up your life of luxury."

Miss Deirdre nodded. "I do love him... but I'll not be giving up any luxuries."

"Pray do not tell me Jack has encouraged you to join him in his highwayman's antics!"

"Certainly not," said Miss Deirdre, crinkling her nose. "You shall be the first to know that I have decided to write my memoirs. I am certain there are those among the ton who would pay a handsome price to ensure their names do not appear in print."

"Ah," said Cole. "I see." And then he laughed, very glad that Miss Deirdre had at last found happiness. He had little doubt but that her memoirs would prove vastly entertaining.

Miss Deirdre gave him a rueful smile in return. "I wish things had turned out differently for you and Marcie."

"As do I!" It was Jack who said the words. Having finished unloading Miss Deirdre's baggage, he'd come to stand beside her and was now looking at Cole with an accusing glare. "You are a fool not to go after the girl, Cole Coachman."

Cole did not argue with the man; he was thinking the same thing. But Marcie was exactly where she'd wanted to be. He had brought her to Burford, just as he'd promised. All that was left to do was to get on with his life.

Cole tipped his hat in a final farewell to both Jack and Miss Deirdre, then motioned for Nan to sit with him on the box. He had no desire to ride alone. Not now.

* * *

They'd no sooner headed out of the courtyard than Nan skewered Cole with an angry glare.

"How could you?" she cried.

"How could I what?"

"Abuse Marcie in such a way?"

"Abuse her?" Cole said.
"Me
abuse
her?
Devil take it, Nan, but thoughts of Marcie have haunted me this entire ride!"

"And did you tell her so?" Nan demanded.

"T-tell her?" Cole asked. "Well, no, of course not. How could I? She is clearly in love with another man. How could I confess my thoughts while she pines for another?"

"Oh!" moaned Nan, quite theatrically. "What a perfect fool you have been, Cole. There
is
no other man. Marcie loves you! She's loved you from the first, yet you thwarted her at every step."

"What the devil are you saying, Nan?"

Nan waved one hand in the air. "No matter. You still have a chance to make things right. She is, after all, the heiress your sisters-in-law have arranged for you to meet."

"What?"

Nan cowered. "Now don't go getting angry with me," she gasped. "I knew all along that Marcie was the heiress for you, and you the titled swell meant for her. But I thought it would be best to let the two of you get better acquainted along the road. Oh, Cole, do not glare at me as though you'd like nothing better than to see me hanged! You know yourself what a crosspatch you've become since ascending to the title. As for Marcie, why she is far too spirited to agree to marry a stuffy marquis! And I just thought... well, I thought you and Marcie could have some fun together during this Mail ride. Could get to know each other."

Cole gaped at her. "Marcie is the heiress my sisters-in-law have been sputtering about?
She
is the one I've been dreading to meet?"

"Y—yes," admitted Nan.

"And you didn't tell me?"
Cole roared.

Nan winced. "How could I? Oh, Cole, but you've been known to make even a titled heiress cry! I didn't want you thinking Marcie was one of those hen-witted heiresses you'd dealt with in the past. And I didn't want Marcie believing you were some stuffy swell whose company she must endure. I wanted the two of you to meet on even ground. I wanted you to see what a treat Marcie is, and I wanted, blast you, for Marcie to see that the Marquis of Sherringham isn't always such a complete bore!"

Cole couldn't believe what he was hearing. Marcie was the heiress he'd been trying to avoid? And he was the stuffy swell she'd been doing her best to steer clear of?

"Nan," he muttered, "I should be fully angry with you."

"But you aren't."

"And how can you be so certain?" he demanded.

"Because," said Nan, with utter certainty, "you are no longer the Cole Coachman or the Marquis of Sherringham I remember."

"And how can you be so sure of that?"

"Because the both of them would have boxed my ears by now!"

"I may just do exactly that."

Nan shook her head. "I doubt it," she assured him. "You see, Cole, or Sherry, or whatever it is you've become, you are not the same person you were when starting out on this journey and you know it. Marcie has changed you."

"Do not be ridiculous."

"I'm not," Nan replied. "Now turn left, down this road."

"What?"

"Left!" Nan called, reaching to help guide the reins.

The coach bumped over a rut in the snowy road.

Nan smiled up at her half brother. "You want to be at Stormhaven soon after Marcie arrives, don't you?" she asked. "Well, since you must take me to my mother's uncle's house in Stow and you still must deliver the last of your parcels there, then you should at least stop at Stormhaven and let them know you have every intention of joining them as soon as possible. If my calculations are correct, we should be there well before Marcie."

Cole, for once in his life, did not argue.

Chapter 14

The transformation of one Marcelon Victoria Darlington from a mischievous West Country girl into a refined young lady destined to capture the heart of a titled gentleman began that very late afternoon upon Marcie's arrival at Stormhaven.

Marcie arrived at her godmama's home cold and wrinkled from her trek aboard a creaky old wagon—a wagon filled with extra goods for her godmama's Saint Valentine's Day ball. The ball was to be the culmination of Penelope Barrington's seven-day house party in honor of Saint Valentine, and it was set to take place that very evening. But though Marcie was much travel-worn and most likely looked a fright, her beautiful cousins, Mirabella and Meredith, swept her into warm hugs. Even her godmama, the outlandish Penelope Barrington, known for her eccentric ways, paid no mind to Marcie's bedraggled appearance.

Nor were her cousins or Aunt Nellie—as she and her cousins called Penelope—aghast to hear that Marcie had run away from her boarding school. They were, however, most upset that Marcie had endured the cruelties of the switch-wielding Mistress Cheltenham. They assured Marcie that, had she but hinted at her unhappiness, they would have hastened to Town to retrieve her from that horrible school.

Aunt Nellie declared that she would soon pay a personal visit to one Betina Cheltenham.

Marcie couldn't help but smile. Ah, what she wouldn't give to be a mouse in the room when the indomitable Penelope Barrington cut the nasty Mistress Cheltenham down to size! Marcie regretted that she'd been too stubborn to turn to her family for help, and she told Aunt Nellie as much when the older woman asked why Marcie hadn't alerted them.

Marcie shook her head, frowning. "It was because I was determined to carry out my father's dying wish that I become a lady. He'd so wanted me to go to London and enroll in Mistress Cheltenham's School for Young Ladies, and though I'd fought him tooth and nail for so long, I found I had to do just that after his death." Marcie sighed. "Had my father known of Mistress Cheltenham's true nature, and the state of disrepair her school has fallen into, he never would have made arrangements for me to go to her."

"Certainly not," agreed Aunt Nellie. She gave Marcie's hand a squeeze. "But here now, let us forget this evil headmistress. You've become a beautiful young lady despite the woman's harshness."

"Oh!" exclaimed the blond-haired Mirabella, "this talk of being a lady has just reminded me that the Marquis of Sherringham paid his respects not an hour ago. Claimed he had some business to attend to but that he'd return for the banquet. I'd quite forgotten that Merry and I promised to introduce you to his lordship."

"Oh, yes," agreed Meredith. "We must get you upstairs and ready for the evening's gathering."

Marcie was quick to explain that she had no desire to meet any peer of the realm. She wasn't ready by far to meet such a gentleman, she said, adding to herself that she wasn't of a mind to try and entice any man—unless, of course, that man should be Cole Coachman.

Both of her cousins told Marcie that Saint Valentine's Day was a day for a lady to be swept off her feet by a man, and who better to do so than a titled swell? But they also assured Marcie that should she not find Lord Sherringham pleasing, they would, without hesitation, come to Marcie's rescue. They reminded her of this fact just as quickly as they reminded Marcie that she had once written to them both, stating she wished above all other things to become a true lady.

"Come now," said the amber-eyed Meredith. "Surely a part of you wishes to be clothed in a beautiful gown and paid attention by a handsome gentleman."

"Please," added Mirabella, "allow Merry and me the pleasure of fussing over you. It troubles us that we were not there to help you escape that horrible boarding school Think of this as our Valentine's gift to you."

"Yes, do," enthused Meredith.

Marcie, not wanting to insult her cousins, whom she loved dearly and had long wished to emulate, finally relented.

"Very well," Marcie said, though she didn't exactly relish the thought of being primped and pampered and then sent off into the company of one Lord Sherringham. But who was she to dash her cousins' hopes?

And so it was that Marcie was led upstairs to a frilly bed chamber where both Mirabella and Meredith commenced to make a lady of her.

* * *

Penelope, hanging back from the commotion, allowed her goddaughters to scurry out of the room and upstairs.

She turned to look over one shoulder, gazing beyond the curtained windows to the wintry landscape there and hoping to espy a certain Mail coach.

Penelope had been present when Lord Sherringham arrived earlier, and had—only in thought, of course—applauded the man's sense of adventure in taking on the guise of a coachman. Eccentricity was to Penelope a mark of distinction.

To Penelope's further delight, she had seen in Lord Sherringham's gray eyes the telling spark of interest when it was mentioned to him that a certain Marcelon Darlington, now an heiress in her own right, would soon be arriving.