Page 16 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“What a sight to behold,” Marion said as she gazed up at the grand London townhouse from the carriage window. She was stunned at the quiet grandeur of the place.
It was vast and imposing, yet possessed an undeniable, tasteful elegance. The brick was understated, offset by gorgeous full windows and gold gilding that felt fitting.
Six days had passed since their hectic departure from Strathcairn, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief as the carriage rolled to its final halt.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Lewis,” Verity offered as she approached the butler. “Please tell me that you can have the staff ready my old room.”
“Oh certainly, Lady Verity,” he said with a bow while turning his eyes to the Duke. “Welcome back, Your Grace. We anticipatedyour arrival and made the necessary arrangements. I trust you had a pleasant enough journey.”
“Thank you,” Anselm answered. His eyes floated over to Marion. “Please allow me to introduce Lady Marion Campbell.”
“How do you do, Lady Marion? I am the butler, Mr. Lewis,” he replied as he performed a small bow. “Welcome to the Greystead townhouse.”
The seasoned butler, a man whose bearing suggested he’d seen everything in his old age, still managed a flicker of surprise at the sight of two women.
“Lady Marion is a distant cousin who will be staying with us,” he explained. “On my father’s side by marriage.”
“It is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance.” Marion offered a small curtsy.
“Very well, Your Grace. I will go make the arrangements and alert Mrs. Clarke. And a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Marion,” he said as he walked away to coordinate with the servants.
After a few hurried moments amongst the staff, Verity was whisked away to her familiar room. Marion was directed to a more modest, though still perfectly appointed, guest chamber in a separate wing.
The walls were painted a rich green. The verdant tones reminded her of Anselm’s eyes.
Does everythin’ have to make me think of him?She cursed inwardly.
She sat down on the bed. The plushness of the brocade duvet provided comfort for her aching bones. Most of all, she loved the oversized picture windows that let in the glowing sun and looked down on the bustle of London.
She thought back to the whispers she had heard as she passed down the hall to the room. The judgment, even from the servants, was a familiar sting amongst the English, but a sting all the same. She ought to be used to it by now.
“I think she is Scottish,” one maid had said to another. “Did you hear that accent? She did not say much, but she is a Highlander!”
“Not sure how that can be a cousin to His Grace,” one footman said to another maid. “She is as wild as a Scottish mare! I do not think His Grace has any Scottish ancestry.”
She closed her eyes to quiet the voices in her head and let rest wash over her.
Marion woke to a soft tap on the door.
“Lady Marion,” a maid called from the threshold. “Lady Verity has had us draw you a hot lavender bath and it has just finished.”
Marion jumped out of her bed at the thought of a luxurious soak. She was ushered into the ornate bathroom next to her chambers, complete with marble flooring and elegant landscape paintings.
How I would love to paint somethin’ like this again,she thought as she lowered herself into the steaming water.
As the maid washed every inch of her body, Marion steeped away the worries that filled her. She thought of her uncle and aunt, Lord Gilton, and how desperately she needed to find her own path.
Then there was the Duke of Greystead. He was cold,aye, and authoritative, and so infuriatingly set in his ways. And yet… the intensity in his eyes, which held the green of a Highland forest in summer, were intoxicating.
His gaze was deep, rich, and threaded with shadows.
Those gleaming orbs were the sort of green that seemed soft at first glance but even when looked at long enough could allow a person to get completely lost. They might wander through something ancient and untamed with no clear path back.
Don’t get carried away, lass. He’s Verity’s brother!She scolded herself.
Even though Marion had seen the playful glimmer in Verity’s eyes when she’d left her and the Duke on their own back in Stamford, Marion knew well that His Grace would keep away from her. He was too stiff, too…
Drat, the point was that Marion had to keep him out ofhermind.
