Page 72 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

She took a seat by his workstation and watched him work, fascinated by the meticulous care he applied to each detail. “This is a new model I’m working on for some merchants,” he suddenly began, his voice carrying a mix of pride and anticipation.

“They wish to lease two of my vessels for now, after which they’ll hopefully have a ship built for them,” he elaborated, his fingers deftly maneuvering over the model’s intricate components.

“And you’re already working on it? Such admirable diligence,” Agnes remarked, impressed by his foresight and the zeal with which he approached his craft.

“Oh, you wouldn’t find anyone more diligent,” he winked, a playful smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“And such humility too,” she chuckled, enjoying this lighter, more open side of him that he seldom showed.

“You married a very charming man, Agnes.”

“How fortunate I must be!” She placed a hand on her chest in mock exaggeration. Theodore looked at Agnes and his lips parted as if he wanted to tell her something but changed his mind.

“What my sisters told you is true, Agnes. I am in debt,” he suddenly said, his tone shifting as he became more serious. “The late Marquess had a grand time drinking and gambling away the Gillingham fortunes.”

Agnes couldn’t help but notice the raw emotion with which he spoke now. And despite her curiosity, she did not press further for answers. It was already a pleasantly surprising progress that he finally was telling her about himself.

“I am happy about the new contract,” she said. Where they’d lost Asmont, there was still hope in other partners at least.

“Theodore?” she began again tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. He looked up expectantly, his eyes meeting hers with an openness that was rare.

“I know we are not in the most conventional arrangement,” she continued, her voice steady despite the ache that referring to their marriage as merely an ‘arrangement’ brought her. But that was the reality of their union, and she had come to accept it. “But we are still friends before anything else. And I do not want us to lose that friendship,” she finished, her eyes searching his for understanding.

“Neither do I, Agnes,” he responded earnestly, his voice firm yet gentle. She felt herself release a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, relieved by his affirmation.

“I know this is neither the marriage, nor life you dreamed for yourself, Agnes.” He took both of her hands and drew her to her feet. “And I apologize for my inability to give you what you truly desire,” he added, his gaze dropping slightly in an uncharacteristic display of… Vulnerability?

“What do I truly desire?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her before she could stop herself.

“Love,” he replied after a moment of contemplative pause, his eyes meeting hers again with a profound solemnity. “I wish things were different, but I cannot...”

Agnes swallowed her hurt before asking, “Why?” Her voice was soft, yet demanded an answer. If anything, she wanted answers to the reason behind her pain at least. He did not respond to her question, unsurprisingly.

“I do intend to keep my end of our bargain,” she said, her voice carrying a weight of resignation. For whatever it was worth. He nodded in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable. She slipped her hands from his and took a step back.

Recalling Frances’s invitation just, she thought it a good moment to let him know about it. “We have been presented with an opportunity to travel to Town and be seen together after our marriage,” she said, willing the tears that stung at her eyes to subside. She needed to remain strong. This was the life she had chosen, after all.

“What is that?” Theodore’s gaze was back on the carriage.

“Frances will be hosting a ball in a week, and we are invited.”

Theodore glanced up at her. “Then we shall attend.” He smiled, but Agnes could not bring herself to.

She glanced blindly in the direction of the mantel clock just then before saying, “It is late. I should return to bed.” She used the clock as an excuse to leave, feeling a sudden need to escape the heaviness of their conversation.

“Do you wish for me to walk with you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Agnes!” he called as she headed toward the door.

She turned around. “Yes?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, and she felt disappointment envelope her. “Did you not come down here to find a book?”

“I have no need for it anymore. I am quite tired. Good night.”

“Good night.”

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