Page 17 of Marigold and the Marquess
Leo frowned. “You are not thinking to deny her, are you? I’ve only known her for a few hours and already understand how important these discoveries are to her. You cannot deprive her of this thing she loves. It is more than a mere hobby for her.”
“We know,” Rupert said. “But neither can we ignore the men who attacked you. Or the attack on Huntsford and Adela last year.”
Leo turned to George. “All the more reason why I should be allowed to escort Marigold while her treasure trove is being set up for display. You know I am not going to let anyone hurt her.”
“Why step forward if you have no interest in her?” John asked.
George grunted. “I can answer that. May I speak of your situation, my lord? What you endured will not go beyond these walls. My brothers know how to keep a confidence.”
Leo gave a curt nod, grateful George would speak for him because he could not talk about his ordeal without turning into a wild beast…a lion, as Marigold had called him. To his relief, George was brief and related only the most pertinent details. “Having been trapped, I expect Lord Muir feels Marigold’s frustration acutely. Of course, she is not imprisoned by us. But if we barred her from the museum, we would certainly be depriving her of her own sense of worth and all confidence in her abilities.”
John sighed. “My brother vouches highly for you, so I will not refuse your offer to assist Marigold. But be careful with her, Lord Muir. She is young and impressionable. She may not appeal to you, for I expect your tastes run toward the more elegant and sophisticatedtondiamonds. But Marigold may find you very much to her liking.”
“I have already made clear to her that I am merely escorting her and there will be nothing more beyond a neighborly interest. I am certain the formidable Hortensia will make certain it stays this way.”
Marigold was standing in the hall, her hands clasped in worry, as he and the Farthingale elders emerged from John’s study. Leo’s heart gave a lurch, noting the strain on Marigold’s lovely face. These archeological artifacts were not mere pieces of bone and mineral to her. They represented respect, accomplishment, and pride in achievement.
He smiled and gave her a nod.
Her entire being lit up and she shone as brightly as a little star. “You are allowing me to go?” She gave each uncle a quick hug and ran up the stairs excitedly calling for Hortensia. “We must hurry, Hortensia! The museum has already opened its doors!”
Mixed in with her joyful cries were Mallow’s excited barks.
Leo suddenly heard the scamper of paws on the stairs, and in the next moment, the little beast gave another excited bark and launched himself into Leo’s arms.
Leo laughed and cradled the spaniel as he now attempted to lick Leo’s face.
“Oh, Mallow! Bad dog!” Marigold called down from the top of the stairs. “I am so sorry, Lord Muir. He must have heard your voice and tore out of my bedchamber as soon as I opened the door to retrieve my reticule.”
She hurried down and took the excited spaniel from his arms. “He certainly likes you. He is quite finicky usually. In fact, he never approves of anyone. But he adores you.” She glanced upstairs and grinned. “He won’t go near Hortensia,” she said in a merry whisper. “He thinks she is scarier than any of my dragon finds.”
Marigold’s maid, Bessie, rushed down a moment later with Marigold’s reticule and pelisse in hand. The two of them traded, Marigold taking her belongings and Bessie scooping Mallow into her arms. “Bessie, please let Aunt Hortensia know we are waiting for her.”
The maid scurried upstairs.
It was not long before the daunting figure of a gray-haired, bombazine clad, older woman sauntered down the stairs. She was tall and held herself quite proudly. One might easily mistake her for the royal consort of a Russian prince by her stern expression and the severe style of her clothes. She wore gray from head to toe, and the lace trim of her gown was as gray as the crisp fabric of her gown. An emerald brooch was the only hint of color to be found on her. “You are Muir?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod, bowing over Hortensia’s hand as she approached. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Farthingale.”
She merely grumbled. “We’ll see about that.”
George chuckled. “Take it easy on him, Hortensia. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Is he?” She did not appear at all impressed.
Marigold was now hopping with excitement just as Mallow had been only a moment ago. “Let’s be off.”
Leaving the Farthingale residence took forever, or so it seemed to Leo, for every member of the family needed to be kissed farewell by Marigold who also held a little conversation with each of them out of an abundance of politeness. Finally, the three of them were in his carriage and on their way. Hortensia and Marigold took seats opposite his, leaving him plenty of room to stretch out on his own bench.
“Your leather is scuffed,” Hortensia remarked, obviously intending to give him a hard time despite the fact he had saved Marigold’s skull from villains yesterday and was doing her the favor of escorting her today.
“That is all my fault,” Marigold interjected before he managed to fashion a response, one that might not have been all that polite. “Lord Muir has refused my offer of repayment, but perhaps you can convince him to allow me to contribute in some small way. It feels wrong to–”
“Marigold,” she intoned, “I shall do no such thing. If he has refused, then leave it be.”
A blush stained Marigold’s cheeks. “But was this not generous of him?”
Hortensia frowned and did not respond beyond a harrumph.
