Page 45 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

He looked up, his expression open and expectant.

“Why are the servants shared between the properties?” she asked, the question slipping out more smoothly than she had anticipated. It was something that puzzled her deeply, the unusual arrangement unlike anything she had known in her own family.

“Would you like some more mutton?” Her husband asked, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them. His tone was polite, yet there was a finality in his voice thatsuggested he was eager to steer the conversation away from personal matters.

Agnes paused, noticing the deliberate shift in his demeanor. His eyes, usually so expressive, now mirrored the resolute tone of his voice, closing off any further inquiry she might have considered. At that moment, she was more confused and dubious than ever. Her initial suspicions about Theodore hiding aspects of his family and past had solidified into certainty.

CHAPTER 21

Theodore didn't think he would enjoy his dinner with Agnes, given with how their marriage had started. But he was enjoying every moment of their meal. He felt the initial friendship they'd had before their marriage.

That had been before she suddenly asked him about the servants. He'd underestimated her curiosity. Again. Or rather, a delusional part of him had been hoping she wouldn't catch on and inquire about his situation. He kept the smile unwavering on his face as he waited for her response.

"Yes please," she said after a brief moment of ostensible surprise. And he served her the piece of mutton he'd carefully carved out. He was glad to see that she was enjoying her meal at least.

"I must say I was quite surprised when we arrived at the nearly empty household," she pressed on. She was one obstinate woman. "Do you not trust other servants with your affairs?"

She was persistent. "After all, it is not unheard of for one to put their trust in just one thing. Or one group," she added. Her gaze was the most searching he'd ever seen it. What was she up to? He did not want to find out, he decided, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a gulp to keep his mouth busy. And that was exactly what he did for the rest of their meal. He kept his mouth too busy to mutter any responses.

After dessert, Theodore curiously found himself wishing to extend her company despite her unnerving questions. “Would you like to walk with me?” He surprised even himself by the gesture.

Agnes regarded him with equal puzzlement as she accepted his arm. Almost tentatively.

“Nothing is quite like evening walks in the countryside.” Theodore breathed in the fresh air as they ventured well beyond the manor.

“Are you sure it isn’t the company that adds to that pleasure?” She quirked a sly brow.

“How presumptuous of you to assume such,” he chuckled.

“Humility has never been my strength,” she shrugged.

“I can tell,” he laughed again, his voice carrying on the breeze.

This was precisely the reason why he always wanted her company. Time mattered not when she was by his side. And he found that the manor wasn’t as suffocating when he was with her. Theodore did not like his time indoors if he could help it. There were too many memories. Painful ones. But something about Agnes never failed to lessen this pain. Or at the very least distract him from it.

“We are far from home,” she suddenly said, looking around the moonlit fields.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Theodore responded, his gaze lingering on her face.

“As I said, the company makes all the difference,” she returned smugly. And they laughed once more.

Lightning flashed in the distance just then, briefly illuminating the landscape.

“If we get caught in another storm, you’re going to help me dry and comb my wet hair, Theodore. I cannot subject poor Evans to that twice in one day. Even though she would be more than glad to oblige,” Agnes joked.

“It would be my pleasure,” Theodore chuckled. The earlier storm had subsided, but now the horizon threatened again with dark, looming clouds. “I agree with you that we should return.”

He escorted her to her bedchamber. At the door, Theodore lingered a moment, bidding her goodnight. There was a subtle shift in her expression, perhaps a hint of disappointment, which mirrored his own hesitation to part ways. He kissed her knuckles and smiled.

“Good night, Lady Gillingham.”

“Good night, Lord Gillingham.”

Theodore retreated to his study and sat among the stacks of ledgers that demanded his attention. Yet, his mind replayed the final moments by her door, preventing any focus on the figures before him. Frustrated, he pushed the papers aside and headed to his workroom, seeking solace in a different kind of task.

He resumed an abandoned ship model, one he hadn’t touched in months. Just as he found his rhythm, carving wood with precision, a soft knock at the door pulled him from his concentration. “Enter,” he called out.

When Theodore looked up and he saw Mrs. Davis step in, something in him curiously sank. Had he been expecting different company?

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