Page 36 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
Another knock came, more insistent, and she jumped to her feet. She fumbled for her robe, putting it on and tying it clumsily around her waist as the door opened.
Anselm stepped in, and Marion instantly noticed how impeccably dressed and coiffed he was. His cravat was tiedperfectly around his neck where it sat below his freshly trimmed beard. Second, his expression was devoid of any lingering heat from the night before. He looked as if nothing had transpired between them.
He was ever the Duke, calm and businesslike, which only rattled her nerves more.
“Good morning, Duchess. I trust that you slept well?”
Marion’s flush deepened as she fumbled awkwardly for words.
Aye, sleep? That is a funny thought.
“Good mornin’, Yer Grace. I slept perfectly well. Thank ye,” she answered, a small cough escaping her dry throat as they were her first words of the day. “Is there somethin’ ye require of me this mornin’?”
He moved further into the room with his hands clasped behind his back. He paced toward the oversized window that looked down upon the London streets. He kept his back to her as he set his hands on the windowsill.
“Only a moment of your time. About last night’s…”
“Yes?” Marion answered with a small gulp. Anticipation tingled all over her body.
Perhaps he wants to apologize for the sudden coldness from last night. To start over. More steadily this time.
“The excursion, with my sister.” He turned and his green eyes met hers. She was surprised to see that his expression was sharp and unwavering.
“Oh. Yes… that.” Marion frowned, trailing off as she wrung her hands together.
Ye’re an idiot, Marion.
“You will not tell Verity that I know about her visit to the printing press. I would like that detail to remain between us,” he went on.
Marion blinked. “Ye… ye want me to lie to her? How could I do that to one of me dearest friends?”
“It is not a lie, surely. Think of it as a small omission,” he corrected coolly. “Like the one you tried with me last night. But yes, I want you to keep this information to yourself.”
Marion felt a shiver go down her spine at the mention of last night, even if the Duke had skirted over their… intimate moment. She had a feeling that whenever she’d recall that night from now on, her cheeks would turn positively red.
“Why?” Still, Marion pressed. “Why would ye keep such a thing from her? I daenae understand why ye wouldnae just tell her.”
“It is not your concern, Duchess. I only need you to give me your word?—”
“This is somethin’ that gives her joy, some purpose beyond the constraints of this life ye have imposed on her. Do ye nae wish to let her share this with ye? Admittedly, she may not react positively to the spying part, but at least ye’ll?—”
“I do not wish to alarm her,” he explained, his expression tight. “Nor do I wish to stifle her ambitions. Much as I question them, they… As you said, they seem to give her something to strive for. And Verity needs that.”
He paused, and the silence that followed was not empty but thick and expectant. A hush seemed to press upon Marion’s chest. She could feel the unsaid words circling and waiting to be spoken.
“She has been through enough,” the Duke finally added. “I want her to feel safe. Not like a prisoner in her own home.”
“That is fair,” she said softly.
Then he pursed his lips. “But I also need to ensure she doesn’t act rashly again. The Fanthorpe business was smoothed over well enough, but not without effort. We cannot go through that again.”
“I’m gathering that there’s more to ye words, husband.”
He tilted his head and the tiniest curve appeared near the corner of his lip.
She arched an eyebrow to motion for him to continue.
He hesitated at first. “Verity trusts you. Far more than she trusts anyone else in this house. Certainly, more than she trusts me.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
