Page 42 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“I will not accept that from you, Theodore. It is your manor, not Mrs. Davis’s, and I expect you to show me around it,” Agnes interrupted, her tone firm yet not unkind.

His chest constricted with a mix of surprise and unease. He had his reasons for avoiding the gallery, reasons deeply intertwined with the pains and shadows of his past. Yet the thought of dragging Agnes in those dark threads felt wrong. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “I will show you the gallery.”

“And we will dine together tonight,” she added, as though stating a fact rather than making a request.

“This is not a conventional marriage, Agnes,” Theodore reminded her gently.

“Yes, but the goal remains, even when we are alone. Who is to say word will not travel to London that we barely see each other?”

Theodore found himself at a loss for words. Her argument was very strong. Still, he countered with, “I trust my servants.”

Agnes was too clever to be satisfied with such a flimsy excuse. “Yes, but do you trust everyone else in your realm?”

“The tenants and villagers live further away from the manor.” Theodore smiled as he said that, enjoying their verbal spar.

She wagged a slender finger at him. “Do you mean to tell me that no one visits the manor? Are they afraid of you?”

Theodore had to laugh. “On the contrary, they are fond of visiting the manor, especially when my mother was alive.”

Her smile was soft and lovely, and her pale blue eyes seemed to dance in the firelight. “If our marriage were real, I would have proposed we host a ball for them.”

“My mother hosted many balls. The county was especially fond of her winter ball.”

Agnes inched closer, seemingly very interested. “Did your sister love the balls, as well?”

Theodore realized that he was not ready to talk in detail about his mother, and his wife was a very curious soul. “She died when Leslie was five,” he said simply.

“My condolences.” Agnes lowered her eyes, and the air between them grew tense. %Where is the ease with which we’d been conversing earlier? Theodore knew all of this was his fault, and he wished he could give her the comfort and reassurance she needed.

She stood and walked to a broken window, peering out at the storm. “I never knew my mother,” she said after a while.

Theodore removed his coat and spread it near the fire to dry before slowly walking over and standing beside her. He wrapped the blanket around her trembling shoulders, murmuring, “It is damp.”

“It will do. Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and he once more struggled to breathe.

Theodore watched the rain with her as he contemplated the question he wanted to ask her. Feeling somewhat braver than before, he ventured.

“You did not mention your father,” he said.

“I think you already know the answer to that question, Theodore,” she replied, her expression impassive. He did know. “Does it bother you?”

“Would I have chosen you to be my wife if it did?”

She chuckled—the sound lacking humor. “You did not choose me. You were?—”

“Ichoseyou, Agnes,” he said without allowing her to finish. Their marriage might have been unplanned, but if he could choose anyone to be his wife, it would be her.

Agnes’ features softened, and so did something inside him that he was reluctant to examine. Without allowing himself to reason, he reached for her hand and simply held it in his.

“The Duchess always said that if my father weren’t a duke, I would have truly been scorned by society,” she continued, her gaze faraway. “No one would dare challenge him about me, and the bravest of them would merely whisper behind closed doors that I was left at his doorstep.”

“Were you?”

She shook her head. “No. I was brought home by him after my mother died. She lived only for three days after my birth.”

As the rain dwindled to a faint drizzle, Theodore pondered Agnes’s revelation. “How did the Duchess take to the news, when you were brought to her?” he inquired.

Agnes’s eyes softened, reflecting a mixture of gratitude and respect. “It wasn’t easy for her, I imagine. But she took me in and raised me as her own. Caroline is the only mother I’ve ever truly known. She means the world to me.”

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