Page 19 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“What are you doing here this late anyway?” Theodore inquired, though the sight of Harriet in the library at such an hour was far from surprising. His sister’s love for literature often saw her keeping unconventional hours, lost within the pages of her latest literary find. He wondered if Agnes shared the same interest.

“I needed a book, of course,” Harriet replied, brandishing the tome before his eyes as if its title would explain her nocturnal quest.

“Couldn’t it wait till morning?” he pressed, the question more an extension of their conversation than a genuine inquiry. He watched as Harriet’s animated expression softened into something more somber.

“You’re not sleeping again tonight?” she asked, her tone a blend of concern and resigned understanding.

“I will. In a bit,” he lied.

“Don’t even make the effort, brother. You are atrocious at telling lies,” Harriet snorted.

“Am I now?” he chuckled.

“It’s all right to share what bothers you sometimes, you know,” Harriet encouraged, her voice soft. “God knows you’ve carried enough for years,” she added.

“I’m fine, Harriet,” Theodore reassured, his tone light, attempting to brush aside her worries with the ease of a statement that had been polished over time. Yet, the tightness he felt around his eyes and the slight ache of his head betrayed the truth of his nightly battles.

Harriet wasn’t easily fooled. She was about to question him further when he said, “Are those dark circles underneath your eyes, Harriet?” he inquired with a pointed look, knowing full well the diversion would capture her attention.

“Where?” she gasped, her concern for her appearance momentarily overshadowing her worry for him. “Are they very visible?” she added, touching her cheeks and the tender skin under her eyes. Harriet, always meticulous about her looks, viewed wrinkles and dark circles as dire foes.

“Oh goodness! I don’t want to debut looking like a dowager,” she cried, the thought alone enough to send her into a mild panic. The image of presenting herself to society less than her best was unthinkable.

“You best get some sleep then if you don’t want those dark circles progressing into God knows what,” he egged on, a playful smirk dancing on the corners of his lips.

“I should,” she said, clutching her book, and practically skipped to the door.

“Good night, Brother,” she paused halfway, turning back with a look of affection. “Anddoget some sleep tonight,” she urged.

Theodore offered her another empty promise. Once again, his night was spent wide awake. Memories, dark and tumultuous, haunted him like specters of the past, refusing to be laid to rest. He heard his father’s censure once more, the angry, drunken tirades that shattered more than just the liquor cabinet. He heard the familiar cries, felt the pain that time had dulled but never fully erased.

But amidst the darkness, a resolve took shape—a silent promise to himself and to those he held dear. He vowed to make the future palatable at the very least. Whatever it took, he promised silently.

If Agnes had thought she’d been receiving an inordinate amount of attention as of late, then the intensity of tonight’s scrutiny was nothing short of overwhelming.

The grandeur of another ball, shimmering under the soft glow of chandeliers, marked their third public appearance together. Agnes felt the intensity of stares and whispers that followed their every move. Her nerves were tangled knots, and her breath was short.

As she moved to the dance floor with Theodore, a remarkable transformation occurred. Within the circle of his arms, the clamor of the room faded into insignificance, the whispers lost their edge, and the stares became inconsequential.

Their gazes held, and Agnes could feel the color rush to her cheeks. Lowering her eyes, she smiled. Theodore tilted his head, looking more charming than ever. “It seems, Agnes, that you’ve finally decided to grace me with your genuine smile,” he teased, his green eyes sparkling.

The warmth in her cheeks increased, but she held his gaze again. “And you, Theodore, appear less disagreeable in the dim light of the ballroom.”

He laughed. “You wound me.”

“Oh, but it is a compliment.”

He shook his head slightly, taking a step back to twirl her. When she was back in his arms, he said, “I expected better words. Something romantic.”

The mention of romance caused a flutter within her, and for a fleeting moment, she imagined true affection with Theodore. Quickly dismissing the notion, she smiled again. “I am not the romantic sort.”

“I recall hearing you tell your friends that love has forsaken you. How could you have felt that if you weren’t romantic?”

Her eyes widened. “It is impolite to eavesdrop!” It was the best response she could muster.

“Ah, but I had to, you see. A certain beauty had caught my attention, and I was keen to listen to every word she uttered.”

His charm almost made Agnes believe his words…almost. She was not foolish, however. This was still very much a part of their game, and they were giving thetona believable scene.

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