Page 67 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“Well, well, well,” Emmanuel drawled as he stepped into the room. “Am I to believe my eyes? The Duke has abandoned his ledgers? I thought for certain the world must have stopped turning, but it appears we are all still here.”
Anselm grunted as he set his teacup down with a controlled thump on the nearby table. He rose to his feet and crossed his arms against his chest.
“Do not be absurd. I am merely taking a brief respite from my work, dear friend. Even I am allowed such luxuries, albeit occasionally.”
“Luxuries, indeed,” Emmanuel chuckled as he sat in the chair closest to Verity. “I must say that I have also heard whispers of daily strolls around London, and now these afternoon tea parties. One might almost believe you were actually enjoying yourself. For the first time in your life, I might add.”
Emmanuel cast a knowing glance at Marion, whose cheeks flushed instantly at the comment. Anselm in turn shot Emmanuel a withering look.
“I am ensuring my household runs with the efficiency and propriety expected of it as a family man. Something your bachelor ways would know nothing about I suppose.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I quite understand where you are coming from, even if I do not know of the particulars myself.”
Emmanuel winked at Marion, then smiled at Verity. Then, he leaned closer to Anselm and dropped his voice as he feigned a whisper. “You are entirely smitten, aren’t you, old friend? This wife of yours… I fear she is actually chipping away at that iceberg you have encrusted around your heart.”
Anselm huffed, then stood abruptly and straightened his jacket. “Now, if you will all please excuse me, I have duties awaiting my attention. Unlike some gentlemen I know.”
“Very well,” Emmanuel announced as he rose to his feet. “I only came here to see if you were all going to be attending Master Jordan’s exhibit tomorrow.”
“Aye!” Marion said as she shot to her feet. “I am so excited. Will ye be joinin’ us?”
“If that is all right with your husband,” Emmanuel said with a wry smile. “I would be delighted to see something that makes you so happy.”
“Oh, how exciting,” Verity cooed. “Some actual culture for once instead of another dinner party or some cursed ball.”
“I, for one, am still having dreams about that mutton stew,” Emmanuel complimented. “I love a good dinner party.”
“You have my dear wife to thank for that,” Anselm said, turning to the group. “She has done a tremendous job acclimating to her duties in managing this household.”
“Thank ye, Anselm,” Marion whispered as her cheeks tinged a deep crimson.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The light Master Jordan captured in this paintin’ is quite remarkable,” Marion said as she cooled herself with her feathered fan.
The weather was unseasonably warm that day, but it could not stifle her excitement as she moved to the next painting.
“Oh, and this one! I daenae ken how he gets such strikin’ colors.”
“No color is quite as striking as your gown,” Anselm said as she blushed. “That shade of blue really suits you so well.”
“Ye only have yerself to thank for that,” she said with a smile, as she pointed back to the painting. “But truly, Anslem. I daenae ken how he got that shade of red to be so…cherry.”
“Indeed, I am beginning to see what you are referring to with those colors and deft strokes. There are so many variations on color.”
“The possibilities are endless. Aye, I am so inspired here.”
“These are surely remarkable works, although I am more partial to yours. I did not realize I had so much to learn about art.” Anselm offered her his arm and she accepted him. “I am grateful for your tutelage.”
Marion’s body heated at the contact causing her cheeks to warm so she fanned herself more. Suddenly, a booming laugh came from behind them, announcing Emmanuel’s arrival before he appeared.
“Your sister has a vivid imagination, Your Grace,” he said as Verity trailed behind him. “Her interpretations of these works are absolutely fantastical; the backstories she creates are more colorful than the paintings themselves.”
“And what, pray tell, is art without a healthy dose of fantasy, my lord?” Verity asked as she joined them. “It would be positively medieval!”
“Good day to ye, Lord Wrotham,” Marion said as she offered a polite curtsy. A smile played on her lips as she turned to greet him. “I am glad ye found Verity. She started wanderin’ off when I took too long lookin’ at these paintin’s.”
“Yes, you are flitting around the room a bit much, Verity,” Anselm chastised as he gave her a sideways look. “Thank you, my friend,” he said as he turned his gaze back to Emmanuel.
