Page 19 of The Dandy Lyon

Joanna frowned. “A green gown? But I do have a green gown, sir, although it is at home in Middlesex.” When he bit his lips to stifle his laugher, she’d had enough. “Is there something funny about that?”

“Now see here, Dandridge.” Thomas’s face had gone dark with outrage. “You cannot bring such language within the hearing of a gently bred lady as Joanna.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord, my lady.” He bowed and attempted to look contrite, but Joanna would have bet the world he was not sorry one iota. “The lady’s very innocence keeps her from understanding my ill-spoken jest. But I am heartily sorry if I have offended either one of you.” He raised his brows at her. “Will you forgive me, Lady Joanna?”

“Of course I will.” But she’d certainly get him to explain the peculiar joke when they were alone. “And I can devise a penance for you as well, to make amends.” She looked triumphantly first at Mr. Dandridge, then at Thomas. “I shall take Mr. Dandridge with me tomorrow morning to gather the heather. And he will have to ride all the way back with the bags of heather laid across the back of his saddle.” Joanna grinned from ear to ear at her device.

“How will that be a punishment, my lady?” The gentleman cocked his head, truly puzzled.

“You will most likely return to the house with the scent of the heather clinging to you for some time to come, Mr. Dandridge.” She could have burst her buttons at her cleverness. “Befitting for you, is it not, Dandy?”

“I have not given permission yet, Joanna,” Thomas broke in, determined it seemed to put a damper on her high spirits.

“And we cannot go tomorrow morning in any case, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge gave her a sobering look.

“Oh.” She frowned, suddenly achingly disappointed. “Are you shooting again tomorrow?”

“Yes, my lady.” Mr. Dandridge kept his somber countenance for a few moments more, then transformed it into a grin. “With you.”

“What?” Flabbergasted, Joanna’s mouth dropped open as she stared first at Mr. Dandridge and then at Thomas. “You’ve given permission, Thomas?”

“Yes, and already beginning to regret it.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at them.

“Oh, Thomas, thank you.” Despite the crowd of people, she couldn’t restrain herself from throwing her arms around him and giving him a great embrace. “Thank you ever so much.”

“Perhaps if we comport ourselves well, my lady, at the end of the lesson Lord Braeton will agree to your ‘punishment’ for me for the following morning.” Mr. Dandridge kept his countenance even, but Joanna could sense his excitement nearly matched her own.

Beyond all her expectations, this dull trek to Scotland was proving much more exciting than she’d ever dreamed it could possibly be. And all because of Mr. Dandridge. She sighed. Pray God Geoffrey didn’t find out about it anytime soon.

Chapter Nine

Standing in front of the mirror trying to stifle a yawn, Marcus silently lamented that he wasn’t usually an early riser, at least not this early. As he spent almost every night at one of his clubs, he invariably didn’t retire until the wee hours of the morning. On really rowdy evenings he couldn’t seek his bed until dawn’s light had begun to filter through the thick, dark curtains of his bed chamber. An occupational hazard in his line of work, but he’d become used to it.

In an ironic about-face, this morning he’d been up since dawn, deviling his valet to make certain his clothes were in perfect order. Not that Spencer wasn’t used to his fastidious and exacting specifications about his toilet every day. The man had been with him for ten years, ever since he’d first hired an attendant to assist him in becoming a gentleman—in appearance if nothing else. And Spencer had been invaluable in instructing him in the sartorial habits of the nobility. At the valet’s suggestion, he’d affected to follow in the steps of Beau Brummel in the area of dress, which, in addition to his surname, had led him to call his gentleman’s club The Dandy leading in turn to being called himself with that moniker by many of the patrons of the establishment.

Lady Joanna had taken note of that, though she hadn’t brought the subject up in conversation. Yet.

Thoughts of the lady, his sole reason for rising at this abominable hour, sent a shiver down his spine. Every time he beheld her, whether at dinner, or afterward in the drawing room, or simply walking somewhere in the lodge, a yearning of such devastating proportions came over Marcus that he had to stop to catch his breath. What he would do in the eventuality that he was unable to persuade the lady to return his affections—or more likely that he couldn’t persuade her brother to give his approval for their courtship—he hadn’t had the courage to reason out. He didn’t wish to envision a life in which Lady Joanna wasn’t his wife, but he knew in a deep, dark part of his mind that this would be the most likely outcome of his current desperate attempt to win her regard.

Although he truly believed, based on the lady’s most recent conversations with him, that she found him an interesting companion. His vastly difference experiences had likely piqued her interest, but still, she didn’t seem to find him repugnant or boring as she obviously did most of the gentlemen suitors her brother and Lord Braeton had collected for her to choose from this summer. Unfortunately, different might be intriguing to her for a time, but was it enough to lead her to a fondness for him? That was the question he hoped to try and expand on today.

“There you are, sir.” Spencer brushed the shoulders of his excellently cut walnut-brown jacket. He’d elected to dress in muted tones today, hoping the dark-brown coat with the lighter brown breeches and black Hessians would convey the seriousness of his intentions toward Lady Joanna as well as Lord and Lady Braeton. “Everything is exactly as you would wish.” The valet stepped back and frowned. “Except for the cravat, sir. May I?”

Marcus nodded and left Spencer to his devices. He’d never been very successful in tying the blasted things himself. Standing as still as he could, Marcus waited while the valet looped and tied and draped the white silk length until he’d gotten it in a knot to his liking.

“There, Mr. Dandridge. If you will look in the mirror?”

Turning to the glass on the dressing table, Marcus nodded his approbation. “You’ve a fine hand with this, Spencer, as I’ve said not for the first time. Can we simply dispense with my trying and failing wretchedly to tie the blasted things?”

“If you wish it, sir, I will attend to it from now on.”

“Please.” Marcus shook his head. “I understand it is the purview of gentlemen, however I will gladly leave it in your capable hands from now on. I doubt anyone will think less of me even if they knew of it.”

“Which they of course will not, sir,” Spencer said, hurrying to assure him of his discretion and loyalty. But of course the man was paid handsomely for those qualities as well as his skill with clothing. “It is early for breakfast, I believe, Mr. Dandridge. Would you like for me to send for some tea or coffee while you wait to go down?”

Marcus glanced out the window to find the morning light scarcely brighter than a candle. “I’d hoped to breakfast early, then help with the arrangement of the tables, weapons, and targets for the shooting this morning.” Thinking about the coming lesson, and the close proximity he’d be to Lady Joanna, he hadn’t slept much at all. So, after tossing and turning, punching the pillow until feathers flew, he’d finally risen and proceeded to dress, not paying any mind to the time of day. “I suppose I must wait for the rest of the house to rise. Very well, Spencer.” Marcus took a seat in a wingback chair before the fireplace, stretching his long legs out toward the blaze. “Order coffee and I will try to stay here and be patient.”

“Very good, Mr. Dandridge.” The valet hurried out of the chamber, leaving Marcus to continue to sit and brood about the coming encounter with Lady Joanna.