Page 103 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“Can you believe all these exquisite paintings?” Lady Featherstone remarked as she entered the room. “I had no idea Her Grace had such remarkable talent!”
“Oh, and this is but a taste of what my dear sister-in-law is capable of!” Verity gushed as Marion and Anselm joined her. “I am so glad that my brother put this event together to let the world see just how talented she is.”
Nowadays, the townhouse felt like a true home once more. Laughter filled the halls, company clamored to spend time with the esteemed couple, and tonight was no exception.
The ballroom was filled with pleasant conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses as guests savored champagne and looked at the magnificent artwork adorning the room. Anselm had spared no expense, organizing a gathering with rich, decadent offerings to showcase Marion’s paintings that would rival the Louvre.
The saucier pieces Marion was most fond of, of course, remained tucked away in her studio. Her private commissions were reserved for her husband’s eyes alone.
Anselm moved through the throng with his arm possessively draped around Marion’s waist. His chest swelled with pride. He looked up at the landscapes of Strathcairn and the remarkable still life paintings. He appreciated the more abstract pieces as well, which he knew helped her move past more tumultuous times in their relationship.
“My wife, the artist,” he declared as he ushered her through the room, to anyone who paused to admire a canvas.
He would hold her out with one arm to twirl her around. His gaze was warm and adoring as it settled on Marion’s beautiful curves.
Tonight, she was wearing his favorite emerald gown, and she was resplendent in the light of the chandeliers above. He watched how she glowed under his attention. There was a certain way her cheeks flushed with pleasure and her eyes shimmered brightly. She held a newfound confidence that suited her exquisitely.
He could not stop smiling, so much that his cheeks hurt.
Across the room, Anselm and Marion spotted a knot of ladies they had not greeted. They nodded in silent agreement and sought them out. They watched from a careful distance asthey fanned themselves, their voices animated as they sipped champagne.
“Have you read it? Miss Eliza Jane Bennett’s new book! It is simply scandalous, yet utterly captivating!” One woman said to the group.
“Oh, indeed,” another chimed in. “I devoured it in a single night like a rich dessert. The wit, the intrigue, oh and the gothic elements in this one. I must say, she has truly outdone herself with this latest novel.”
Emmanuel, ever the charming rogue, joined their circle as Marion and Anselm looked on.
“Ah,The Highland Haunting,”he mused and there was a twinkle in his eye that was not just from the champagne. “I particularly enjoyed the scene where the heroine disguises herself as a stable boy to spy on the villain before throwing a dead mouse onto him from a nearby stall.”
Verity, who had just approached, nearly choked on her champagne. Her eyes, wide with surprise, met Emmanuel’s. A blush crept up her neck, and a smile played on her lips.
“You… you read that part?” she stammered. “If you read that…than that means…”
“I read the whole thing, cover to cover.”
“I am impressed,” Verity said with a mocking bow as they excused themselves from the group and walked toward the bar.
Anselm, witnessing the exchange, stiffened. He felt a familiar protectiveness rising within him, one he tried his best to keep at bay despite his natural inclinations.
Just as he went to open his mouth, Marion gently pressed her fingers against his arm.
“Leave yer sister be, me love,” she whispered as she looked up at him. “She is a grown woman, which ye ken.”
Anselm grumbled as he relented and a soft sigh escaped him.
“Ye would do well to remember yer promise to me,” she said with a teasing tsk tsk in her tone.
“Very well,” he said as he began to usher them away to another group.
A moment later, a joyous cry erupted from Verity from across the room.
“Oh, Elspeth!” Verity cried as she ran towards one of her dearest friends.
Elspeth, Lady Inverhall, had made the journey from Scotland. Her face was illuminated by the warmth of the room’s soft light.She embraced Verity fiercely, then turned to Marion as she approached.
“Marion, me dear! Yer paintin’s are magnificent!” Elspeth cried. “I cannae believe we are reunited and ye have His Grace to thank. I was most happy to receive his letter and make the arrangements to journey here. I barely made it in time, so ye will have to excuse my appearance.”
“Oh nonsense,” Verity cried. “You are a vision; you should let Marion paint you!”
