Page 14 of Made for the Marquess (Second Sons of London 4)

“Yes, Miss Nicholls,” the maid said, exiting the room with the flowers.

Percy swallowed, not able to think of a single thing to say. Then he recalled the weather was always a safe topic and said, “It is a nice day for February. Cold but quite sunny.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Miss Nicholls said, surprising him. “I enjoy a brisk walk every day and regret that I am missing the sunshine out there today.”

“Perhaps I could take you for a ride in my carriage,” he offered, and then glanced at her outstretched legs. “I suppose that sounds foolish since you need to keep your ankle elevated.”

“No, not at all,” Lady Westlake insisted. “I think it would do Minta a world of good getting out in the fresh sunshine.” The countess frowned. “Of course, she cannot walk to the coach.”

“Then I will carry her to it,” he said assertively, taking charge of the situation as if he were going into battle.

He glanced to Miss Nicholls and saw a blush staining her cheeks. “Is that agreeable with you?” he asked.

“It would be lovely to leave the house,” she agreed. “You do not need to carry me, however, my lord. I can have a footman do so.”

“Nonsense,” he declared as he rose from his seat.

Stepping toward her, he asked, “Will you allow me to lift you, Miss Nicholls?”

Her blush deepened but she nodded. “That would be acceptable, my lord,” she told him. “Although I should send for my pelisse since you mentioned it is chilly outside.”

“I have robes in my carriage,” he told her. “We can wrap you snuggly in one of those.”

“It is so kind of you to offer a ride to my niece,” the countess said. “Perhaps after your little outing, you would care to stay for tea, my lord.”

“If it would not inconvenience you, my lady, I would be happy to do so.” He glanced to Miss Nicholls. “Unless Miss Nicholls tires of my company, that is.”

“Feeding you tea will be your reward for putting up with me,” the young woman declared. “I am ready if you are, my lord.”

Percy stepped to her and lifted her from the settee, walking steadily so as not to jar her ankle.

“Aunt Phyllis, would you hand me that cushion?”

The countess picked it up as Percy halted and handed the cushion to her niece. “A good idea, Minta. You can use this in the carriage to elevate your ankle.”

As they left the room and he headed down the corridor, Percy inhaled the scent of warm vanilla wafting from her skin.

“You smell divine,” he blurted out, seeing a pleased look appear upon her face.

“I always wear vanilla,” she told him. “Sera, my sister, prefers jasmine.”

They didn’t speak again until they arrived outside. Percy called up to the driver to take them through the local countryside for an hour. A footman opened the coach door and Percy moved up the stairs, setting Miss Nicholls upon the leather seat. She stretched out her legs and he slipped the cushion she held underneath her ankle. Reaching for one of the two folded robes sitting in the corner of the opposite seat, he draped it across her lap and legs and then took the seat opposite her. Using his cane, he rapped on the roof and the carriage started out.

Miss Nicholls turned to him and said, “Thank you for getting me out of the house today, my lord. Although I enjoy sedentary activities to an extent, I much prefer being out and about.”

Realizing the movement of the carriage was bouncing her ankle, he asked, “Might I come sit with you, Miss Nicholls? I am afraid the movement of the coach is jarring your ankle about. I would not want to injure it further.”

A radiant smile lit her face. “That would be helpful, my lord. I was afraid I would have to twist toward you during the entire ride. If you are sitting at my feet, I will be able to see you much better—and have my ankle secure.”

He set his walking cane aside and moved to the opposite bench, where he gingerly lifted her legs and the pillow and sat. Placing the cushion in his lap, he lowered her legs to it, interesting tingles rippling through him.

Percy placed a hand atop her trim ankle and said, “I am trying to anchor it from movement. I don’t want to hold it too firmly though. Is this pressure too much?”

“No, it is fine,” she told him.

He tried to think of something to say, something casual yet witty, yet nothing came.

“You do not have to try so hard, my lord,” she said. “Conversation should occur naturally between others. Sometimes, no conversation at all is needed.” She smiled at him, causing a glow to fill him.

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