Once a Duchess(72)

 

“Good morning,” Marshall said. The ladies returned the greeting. Alex bent down a corner of his newspaper and nodded, then returned to his reading.

 

Marshall selected a slice of ham and some thick toast from the buffet. He sat beside Isabelle, who continued her conversation with Naomi as though Marshall was of no more significance than a fly on the wall.

 

“I notice,” he said while slathering his toast with the fresh, creamy butter, barreling over the ladies’ voices, “the inclement weather has done us the favor of departing. Isabelle, would you care to join me in the greenhouse this morning for another session of — ” He faked a cough and took a sip of coffee, immensely enjoying Isabelle’s wild-eyed discomfiture.

 

“Mixing plant food?” he finished. He raised a brow.

 

Her face turned a charming shade of pink. She glanced toward Alex, who remained hidden behind the newspaper. “Well, you see … ” she fumbled.

 

Still on edge, he saw. What had gotten into her? He’d have thought his apology would put her at ease, but the opposite had occurred. Marshall blandly sucked a bit of toast from a tooth, waiting to hear what ridiculous excuse she’d concoct to keep herself out of his company.

 

“Ordinarily,” she began again, “you know I’d be happy to help you. But Naomi and I had just been discussing whether we’d like to — ”

 

“Actually … ” Alexander lowered the paper and looked over the top to his sibling. Marshall saw the unspoken death threats Isabelle sent her brother with her eyes. Alex didn’t pay them any heed. “I hoped I could convince Lady Naomi to join me for a ride.” Alex inclined his head to Naomi. “Accompanied by your aunt, of course,” he added.

 

Marshall thought he detected the barest hint of a nod from Isabelle’s brother. He returned the gesture. Reinforcements, he thought wryly. He never would have thought he’d have to enlist the entire household just to get a female alone for an hour.

 

Naomi brightened at the suggestion. “That sounds lovely.”

 

“Excellent,” Alex said. “I’ll meet you at the stable in a quarter hour?”

 

“Best make it half an hour,” Naomi replied. “I’ll have to pry Auntie out of whichever book she’s buried herself in.”

 

“Very well.” Alex folded the paper and tossed it to the table with a flick of his wrist. He stood, stretching himself to his full height.

 

Marshall saw Naomi glance at Fairfax and then quickly look away again. A light blush touched her cheeks. Alarms went off in Marshall’s head.

 

“I’ll go find Aunt Janine myself.” He stood and straightened his gray waistcoat. “I must change, anyway.”

 

A short time later, Marshall had bustled Aunt Janine out the door, instructing her in the strongest terms to properly chaperone Naomi, and not allow herself to become distracted by a bee hive, or anything of that sort. Then he made her empty her pockets and confiscated a little notebook in which she was working on her own translations of hieroglyphics.

 

It wasn’t that Marshall didn’t trust Alexander Fairfax. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Naomi. But nature had a way of conspiring to overwhelm the good senses of otherwise rational people.

 

He should know.

 

Isabelle awaited him in the entrance hall. She’d donned a pelisse and a straw bonnet, from the bottom of which peeked a few wispy curls.

 

“Shall we?” He extended his arm, as politely as for a stroll in the park, though he’d changed into the old clothes he used for greenhouse work.

 

Isabelle took his arm. They didn’t speak until they were almost to the glass and iron structure.

 

They rounded the bend and Marshall’s heart lightened at the sight of it. Though he had greenhouses or conservatories at each of his properties, this particular greenhouse was his pride and joy, and the heart of his botanical work. He came here as often as he could to conduct his experiments.

 

It was nice to be able to share his work with Isabelle. He glanced down at the petite woman on his arm.

 

“It was treasonous, the way they gave me up.” Her eyes flashed defiantly.

 

“You’re beautiful when you’re irate,” he replied.

 

She scoffed.

 

He leaned down and rumbled into her ear, “Almost as beautiful as when you’re aroused.” She didn’t answer, but red crept up her face all the way to her hairline. Marshall whistled a jaunty tune.

 

He held the door and inhaled deeply when he stepped in behind her, relishing the warm, nourishing atmosphere. A quick glance around the space told him Bensbury’s head gardener had taken good care of Marshall’s various projects in his absence.