Free Amy Lake by The Marquess Takes a Fall Page A

are Lord . . . Ashgown?”
    The marquess would have bet his finest carriage and the team that drew her that the mispronunciation was deliberate. He did not reply to the baronet and several moments went by. Sir Irwin seemed to hesitate coming any further into the room. He was wearing a ridiculous outfit for an informal visit, a frilled shirt topped by a satin waistcoat in a violent shade of green.
    “I am also the owner and resident of Marsden Hall,” the man said finally, adding, “and a close friend of Mrs. Marwick.”
    Colin longed for a healthy leg, so that he could plant a facer on this popinjay. Close friend? He thought not.
“I see,” he replied.
    There was another pause.
    “I was given to understand that Fiona’s guest was a lord of some kind,” said Sir Irwin, who appeared to be growing more irritated by the second that Colin had chosen not to introduce himself. It was the prerogative, as they both knew, of the higher-ranked gentleman.
    For a moment the marquess contemplated telling Ampthill who he was, and just exactly where a baronet with a shady reputation stood in the ranks of society. But he never had the chance, in fact had barely drawn breath, before several other things happened in close succession.
    The door opened, bringing another draft of chill air. Mrs. Marwick entered and saw the baronet. Her eyes flashed and Colin was pleased to see a spark of anger. “Sir Irwin,” she acknowledged, flatly. “I’m afraid I cannot receive visitors at the moment.”
    Oddly, her cold reception seemed to have no effect on Ampthill. He seemed almost to be smirking.
    “Oh, ’twas curiosity, my dear, merely curiosity,” he said. “I hear you’ve had a letter.”
    A letter? Colin was watching Fiona and he thought he saw a flash of dismay. But—
    “Mum, I can’t carry this!”
    Madelaine now entered, struggling with a basket of food that looked nearly as big as she was.
    “Here, I’ll get it.” Dee was on Maddie’s heels; he reached down for the basket, saying, “Ah! Now that’s a fine bird. Your mother will have it roasted in a trice.” The doctor saw Colin before noticing Sir Irwin, and he smiled. “Any more pain?” Dee asked the marquess.
    “Very little.”
    “I want you to stay off your feet until there is none whatsoever.” The doctor nodded shortly to Sir Irwin, and returned his attention to Lord Ashdown. “But you should move the leg a bit, if you can. Very gently at first—”
    Mrs. Marwick again addressed herself to the baronet. “I’m sorry, Sir Irwin, but as you can see we are all quite busy here.”
    Dee had finished giving instructions to Lord Ashdown. “Fiona,” he said, “where would you like all this food?”
    Ampthill began a complaint that he and Lord Ashdown had never been properly introduced. And worse— “If further recovery is needed, he should be moved to Marsden Hall. There’s no reason for him to remain here, Fiona.”
    “ Mrs. Marwick ,” corrected Lord Ashdown.
    “Indeed? What have you to say of—”
    And then his lordship heard a voice, from outside the kitchen window. A woman’s voice, loud, strong and very familiar.
    “Take the horse, my good man.”
    It could not be.
    ’Twas impossible.
    Gods.
      * * * *
    Fiona wanted to scream at Sir Irwin to get out of home at once. But she did not wish to make an exhibition of bad temper in front of Lord Ashdown, or Madelaine, and she was also worried about the baronet’s mention of a letter.
    What would he know of the letter? She got very few, of course, but certainly a person could receive one without it being village gossip, and what possible interest could the baronet have? Did he know about Wilfred Thaxton? How could he?
    In the kitchen everyone was talking at once. Even Agnes Groundsell—who, to no-one’s surprise, had been napping in her room—was roused from sleep by the hubbub.
    “Mum—”
    “Sir Irwin, you really must leave.”
    “What is all this commotion? A body can hardly get a moment’s