Maggie MacKeever by Strange Bedfellows Page B

manner—without, of course, Nell on the other side. “Perhaps you should reconsider, Marriot. If the site of your reappearance is your wife’s bedchamber, Henrietta is going to think it very odd.”
    “Henrietta is very odd.” Thus Lord March disposed of his cousin. “So that we may be rid of her is one reason why I have decided to come but of hiding.”
    “It is a pity you didn’t think of Henrietta in the first place!” Lady Amabel answered. “Once she was finished hauling me over the coals, she tried to interrogate me— as if her conduct was above reproach, which it isn’t, because she didn’t tell me Fergus and his mama had called. That is who you heard her talking to in the solar, Nell! And they came to see me! It’s true, I assure you. Anyway, Henrietta is agog to discover why Marriot showed you a clean pair of heels, Nell. She said you would do better to prepare for tragedy than to rummage with me through the attics, and then she took to shuddering, and muttering about mice. I think it will be very nice when you reappear, Marriot, because Henrietta doesn’t expect that you will, and her nose will be put out of joint!”
    Lady March, gazing across her husband’s enviable chest at Mab, glanced at the door. “Keep your voices down,” she warned. “I wouldn’t put it past Henrietta to eavesdrop.”
    “Would she?” Lord March succumbed to impulse, and nuzzled his wife’s chestnut hair. “Listen at keyholes?”
    “Certainly she would.” Mab reclaimed Marriot’s wandering attention by jabbing her elbow in his ribs. “She is a very rubbishing sort of person, I think! But this is fair and far off. We must put our heads together—or rather, I wish the pair of you would not put your heads together because I am feeling oppressing de trop .”
    Recalled to the unsatisfactory condition of her young friend’s romance, Lady March raised herself from her husband’s chest and patted his smooth cheek. “Poor Mab! We shall not allow Henrietta to cut up all your hopes.”
    Moved by this noble attitude, Lord March saluted his wife’s hand. “No, we shan’t,” he said. “I’ll send Henrietta packing, and demand that Parrington make reparations for the honor he has so carelessly besmirched. Will that suit you, brat?”
    “Have you gone off your hinges?” Lady Amabel seriously doubted that anything would please her again. “Your own behavior is open to very unfavorable interpretations, Marriot! Nell, you need not be looking at me like a thundercloud! I did not say Marriot has done anything so dreadful—but we must not forget that he has lost his memory and gained what are likely stolen jewels.”
    So he had, and by this unpalatable reminder Lord and Lady March were reluctantly recalled to the present. Marriot gazed in a somber manner at the shabby valise that he had brought with him from the attic, as well as the Toledo walking sword. “If only I could remember!” he mourned.
    “Oh, Marriot!” Eleanor’s sigh was heartfelt.
    “Well, you can’t!” briskly interjected Mab. “And we can’t simply wait until your memory returns, if ever it does. But you must have thought of some explanation for your absence, else you would not have left the attics. May we know what it is? Which reminds me, I had better tell you that I hinted to Fergus that you were involved in thwarting the French—don’t frown at me, Nell! I didn’t know what else to say!”
    “By all means, don’t scold Mab.” Marriot gave his wife a little squeeze. “It isn’t like you to kick up a dust over a trifle like espionage, puss! However, I fear that tale won’t stand up to investigation—not that I am ungrateful, Mab!”
    Lady Amabel contemplated giving his lordship’s ribs another jab. “It is not kind of you to gammon me,” she said sternly. “I am devilish out of humor, and so would you be, had you had your odious Cousin Henrietta ripping up at you about bacchanalian scenes.”
    Lord March wondered what his odious