Page 17 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
Soon, the maid assisted Marion out of the tub and helped her dress for dinner. She was offered one of Verity’s gowns once more, as with her hasty departure, she’d brought no other clothes. Tonight’s dress was a deep sapphire which was again a touch too snug across her bust.
She looked in the mirror, noting how the cut hugged every part of her body a little too tightly.
It will have to do for now, she could only think.
Moments later, Marion entered the dining room and was greeted by Verity and the Duke’s gaze. The latter lingered a moment too long to be mistaken as a passing glance.
“While it may be a bit too tight, you look absolutely radiant in that color,” Verity gushed as they sat down to sup. “It goes so well with your eyes. Do you not think so, Anselm?”
“Indeed,” he said gruffly before taking a long swig from his wine goblet.
The dinner was served in courses with quiet precision by the attentive staff. They started with vichyssoise, then a duck dish that was accentuated with orange and herb. They moved onto a sumptuous stew, followed by a delicate dessert consisting of a lemon pudding.
“Each dish is more delightful than the last,” Marion gushed, savoring each bite. “Do you always dine like this?”
“I think my brother is trying to impress you,” Verity said with a wink.
“It’s a celebratory dinner,” the Duke said. His gaze flicked to Verity as his eyes narrowed just slightly. “My sister has returned.”
He left it at that. Calm, final, not inviting further comment.
Verity’s teasing smile faltered. She leaned back slightly in her chair as a hint of color rose to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze to her plate.
“Of course,” she murmured.
Silence fell over the table. Once the last dish was cleared, the Duke dismissed the staff with a curt nod.
“We’ll require privacy for our conversation,” he stated, his voice allowing no question.
The staff exited promptly and made sure to close the heavy oak doors behind themselves.
The Duke leaned forward and rested his elbows on the polished table as he drained the last of his glass.
“Now, about your safety, Lady Marion,” he began. “Harlowe and Gilton will undoubtedly retaliate. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay with one of my aunts as a lady’s companion this week. That should keep you safe and out of the immediate line of fire, while I deal with them.”
“Thank ye, Yer Grace,” she murmured, sincerity warming her voice. She appreciated the way he was helping her so much. “That is most kind.”
As Marion felt a rush of relief, she was overwhelmed by a pang of sadness as she looked at Verity. She had been so lonely for so long. The years after her parents died were spent with the McCrae family or being ushered about by the Harlowe’s. The thought of leaving the dearest friend she had ever known felt sharp, like being exiled all over again.
But it wasn’t just Verity.
Her chest tightened as her eyes flicked toward the Duke. There it was, the deeper ache—unwelcome, unfamiliar. For a fleeting moment, she’d tasted something different here, something close to… safety, even…
Well, she didn’t precisely know.
And now, just as quickly, it was slipping from her fingers.
She straightened, steadying herself, her face calm even as the quiet, hollow disappointment bloomed inside her.
Of course it was only temporary. It had never been hers to keep. “Oh, Marion! Must you go? I would be so sad to see you leave.” Verity’s lips turned down at the corners unhappily as she threw down her napkin.
“It is the safest route, Verity,” the Duke stated as he turned his gaze firmly on his sister. “For now.”
Marion held Verity’s gaze, searching for some reassurance in those sorrowful eyes. She gave a small, steady nod.
“Aye, it’s for the best, Verity. I promise,” she reassured her friend.
She saw the tight frown deepen on Verity’s brow. There was quiet sadness in that look which didn’t fade despite her words. It was clear that Verity wanted her to stay. She wanted to hold onto this precious bond they’d begun to build.
