Page 25 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“To give you and Marion some space. It might… ease things for both of you as you transition, and?—”
“Absolutely not, Verity. This marriage is a necessary arrangement to salvage a situation that was quickly spiraling out of control. And you,” he added, his voice firm, “are not leaving this house or my sight. Not when the gossips are still sharpening their claws, eager for their next victim. Your presence here, as my sister, is a shield.”
“But… won’t it be awkward?” Verity asked as her shoulders slumped. “For you and Marion, I mean. You are newlyweds, after all.”
“The Duchess and I will adjust. We all have our parts to play.”
“Is everything so calculated with you?”
“We all must do what we need to survive. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”
With a curt nod to his sister, Anselm retreated to his study.
“This way, Your Grace,” Mrs. Clarke, the housekeeper, instructed Marion as she opened the set of grand doors adjoining the Duke’s study. “The Duchess’s chambers.”
Beside her stood a young woman, Marion’s newly assigned lady’s maid.
“I am Beth, Your Grace.” The maid curtsied, and her voice trembled slightly. “At your service.”
“I am sure we will get along very well, lass,” Marion offered warmly as they entered the room.
Marion was happy to have the assistance of Mrs. Clarke and Beth with changing her clothing. The silk of her simple wedding gown was replaced by a delicate, crimson nightgown.
She looked around, impressed by the lavish four poster bed in her new chambers, the roaring fire, and the tastefully ornate portraiture adorning the walls.
Yet, it was all so overwhelming.
Me weddin’ night… Aye, I dinnae think of what I would do if I actually got to this point.
Chapter Ten
With the glittering moonlight coming in through the window, Marion stood in her new bedchamber.
She was restless and rudderless. Indeed, the vastness of the Greystead London townhouse felt heavy and foreign. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant murmur from the street below, made her jump.
She knew what was expected of her tonight.
The consummation.
Her breath hitched when a soft, yet decisive knock sounded at the adjoining door which led to the Duke’s own chambers.
She hesitated, before finally, softly, calling out, “Come in.”
The Duke entered and immediately his gaze swept over her. She watched him look at her from top to bottom, then up and down again and again. His eyes darkened as they absorbed every inch of her.
Marion felt a blush creep up her neck, likely matching her sheer crimson gown, which left little to the imagination.
“No need to blush, Duchess. I am not here for that.” The Duke finally broke the silence.
A wave of relief, sharp and unexpected, washed over her… which was quickly followed by a prickle of disappointment.
Was it something about her manner of dress? Had she done something wrong?
“Oh. Right, of course,” she mumbled and opened the door wider for him to enter.
“I came to speak about Verity,” he said as he stepped into the room, halting just a few feet from her.. “Now that you’re here, Duchess, I won’t tolerate you leading her astray or pushing her toward choices that could ruin her standing. Under my roof, there’s no room for recklessness. You will keep in line.”
Marion stiffened as her short-lived relief evaporated and was replaced by anger and hurt feelings.
