began to unwind the blood-stained bandage from her arm, taking care not to get it anywhere near her gown. ‘There was absolutely no reason why it should have alarmed him, Papa. Poor Guinevere was the one at risk, not me. Besides, it was my own fault for not ensuring that I made the bandage thick enough.’
‘Unfortunately, that is what comes of keeping exotic pets.’
‘Yes, well, under the circumstances, I think it better that Lord Blackwood not hear about…Alistair and the others right now,’ Nicola muttered.
‘I thought you were planning on taking your menagerie with you when you married?’
‘I was,’ she confessed. ‘And I did tell Lord Blackwood about the puppies, and he said he did not mind my having pets. I just haven’t found the right moment to tell him about…the others.’
‘Well, I would advise you to do it soon, my dear,’ Lady Dorchester said as she carefully took the soiled bandage from her niece and handed it to Trethewy who had magically appeared in the doorway. ‘I doubt the marquis’s perception of pets is going to be the same as yours, and he will hardly be expecting his future marchioness to be a gamekeeper! Now, come along upstairs, and let me have a good look at that arm!’
Chapter Four
The image of Nicola standing in the darkened billiards room, with a hunting falcon perched proudly on her arm, and blood staining the flimsy layer of cloth with which she had wrapped it for protection, stayed with David for a very long time. In fact, it made for an extremely restless night.
What the devil had she been thinking of? Imagine trying to rescue a bird that could just as easily have…ripped her to shreds as look her in the eye! It was commendable, yes. And brave, certainly. But, as the future Marchioness of Blackwood, it was hardly appropriate behaviour. Especially occurring right in the middle of their betrothal ball as it had.
Well, it would no doubt make for an interesting topic of conversation later in the day, David reflected as he stood in the guest bedroom at Wyndham Hall the next morning and painstakingly arranged the folds of his cravat into a perfect Mathematical. And for some clever explanations on the part of his fiancée, to be sure!
By the time David reached the breakfast parlour—his appetite having been considerably whetted by the tantalizing smells issuing from it—he was ready for a hearty repast. The fact that he would likely be enjoying it alone did not trouble him unduly. He knew that Lord Wyndham was not partial to breakfast, having oft heard him refer to it as a singularly uninspiring meal, and, as he knew that it was not the custom for well-bred young ladies to rise early following a night of dancing and revelry, David had no reason to suspect that Nicola would put in an appearance much before noon.
But then, he’d had no reason to suspect that she would treat him to a display of falconry in the billiards room last night either. Which was probably why, when he entered the breakfast parlour to find his fiancée already seated at one end of the long mahogany table, her plate generously heaped with curried eggs and toast, and her attention riveted on the pages of the romantic novel in front of her, he was not overly surprised.
‘Good morning, Nicola,’ he said laconically. ‘Interesting book?’
Nicola’s head shot up, her eyes widening in dismay as she realised that, once again, David had caught her doing something that wasn’t quite appropriate. She quickly closed the book and offered him what could only be called an apologetic smile. ‘David, pray forgive my abominable manners. Miss Withers would have had apoplexy if she’d caught me reading at the table, but, in truth, I did not expect to see you downstairs until much later.’
‘Later?’ David propped his back against the edge of the door and remarked in some surprise, ‘Do I strike you as such a layabout, then?’
Catching the subtle inflection, Nicola hastened to reassure him. ‘Not at all. It was simply my understanding that fashionable gentlemen preferred to keep to their beds in the morning. Unless they were partaking of some early morning sport, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Tempted to inform her that the only kind of sport that would keep him abed of a morning included the willing participation of a certain kind of lady, David instead said, ‘I was under the impression that fashionable young ladies did exactly the same thing.’
‘Well, yes, I believe they do. But then, I do not aspire to be a lady of fashion,’ Nicola told him with an unaffected smile. ‘At least, not in the truest sense of the word. There is precious little need for that when one spends most of one’s time in the country.’
She might not aspire to be a lady of fashion, David thought, but one would never know it by her charming appearance this morning. In the fashionable white muslin gown, delicately embroidered with sprigs of pale blue flowers around the square neckline and hem, Nicola presented a very pretty picture indeed. Her hair was caught up in a charming cluster of curls, through which a ribbon the same colour as the flowers on her dress had been wound, while a few stray tendrils hung loose against the curve of her neck. It was only the fact that she was clearly enjoying a rather hearty meal, and that she had probably risen earlier than most of the household, that lent credibility to her statement at all.
‘I take it from the fact that you are already well along with your breakfast that you are in the habit of rising early?’ David enquired mildly.
‘Oh, yes, most assuredly. Morning is my favourite time of the day.’
‘How unusual. A lady who professes no concern as regards to maintaining a fashionable appearance, and who prefers the quiet, restful hours of a country morning. I would venture to say, my dear,’ David said with a meaningful glance, ‘that you are not at all typical of the rest of your breed.’
‘No, so Papa has often told me. No doubt that is why I have been spared the attentions of the young tulips and dandies of London Society. I can neither match them in appearance, nor keep up with their nocturnal habits. Indeed, were I to marry such a man, I dare say we should see precious little of each other of a day.’
David’s mouth twitched, but he stubbornly refused to smile. He wasn’t yet ready to forgive Nicola for her behaviour of the previous night. ‘Should I be offended that you do not consider me such a paragon of gentlemanly fashion?’
‘Ah, but you are, my lord,’ Nicola assured him in a most serious tone, even as her eyes sparkled. ‘You are a pattern card to many a young sprig of fashion. But not, I fear, to the fribbles and dandies who would wear their collar points so high as to restrict movement of the head, or don waistcoats so bright that they are painful to the eye. Those are definitely not the type of gentleman who would emulate your considerably more…refined sense of style.’
She was bamming him, David acknowledged ruefully, and with a deftness that was making it dashed hard for him not to laugh out loud. He had not expected to find such a lively wit dwelling behind those enchanting eyes, nor such a conspicuous lack of arrogance in her character. Until now, those were qualities which he had found sadly lacking in the females of his acquaintance.
He pushed himself away from the door, and set about examining the tempting array of hot and cold delicacies displayed in silver platters upon the sideboard.
‘I hope you are recovered from the events of last evening,’ he remarked idly, selecting, amongst other things, a slab of freshly cured ham, a morsel of rare steak, two poached eggs and three slices of toast.
Having decided early on to be as optimistic as possible about what
