Page 81 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“Perhaps Marion… and you did not forget, Verity. We simply… stopped speaking of them because it was too hard.” He lowered the miniature but held it gently in his grip. “There were so many things we stopped speaking of, mainly because I did not know how to face myself. But, I am changing that now. Will you forgive me for the walls I put up to survive?”
Verity rose slowly and moved closer to him. “Why, Anselm? Why did we cease to be… a family? Why did you erect those walls in the first place?”
Her voice was raw with the question that had plagued her for years.
Anselm sighed, a deep, weary sound. “Because I believed I had to be strong. To protect you. To protect what little remained. I built walls, Verity, and I believed they were necessary. But I never truly considered… what they kept out.” He looked from the miniature to her face. There was a profound regret etched in hisfeatures. “I deeply regret the years we lost, sister. There is much darkness that I hope you never know.”
Verity’s eyes welled with tears. They were not tears of sorrow, but of release. “As do I, brother.” She reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm. “Perhaps… perhaps we might begin to remember those things again. Together.”
“Perhaps,” Anselm said as he looked to Marion. Silent gratitude passed from his heart to hers.
“I think I need to take a turn about the grounds to clear my head,” Verity said as she rose to her feet. “If you both would excuse me, I will be back before it is time to dine.”
“Of course,” Marion said as she stood. “Would ye like me to join ye?”
“I am happy to join you as well,” Anselm said as he walked to them.
“I think I would like that,” she said. So the three family members went out into the sunshine and warmth of early June.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Are ye quite certain this is wise, Verity?” Marion whispered as she glanced over her shoulder up and down the dimly lit alleyway. “It is rather late and somethin’ about this air is givin’ me the willies.”
“Oh nonsense, Marion!” Verity retorted, though Marion noticed her voice was higher than usual. “It is just your Scottish superstitions. Everyone knows this is when real work happens! You know this business is terribly fast paced!”
“Very well,” Marion conceded as she looked around. “I ken how much this means to ye, but I still daenae ken why we have to be out at such an hour!”
The rhythmic thud and clang of the printing press echoed through the narrow, cobbled street as they continued to wait. Gas lamps cast pools of sickly yellow light, illuminating the damp cobblestones and the occasional scurrying rat in search of sustenance.
Marion pulled her dark cloak tight against her chest, bracing herself from the chill of the night air. In contrast, Verity practically vibrated with excitement. Her cheeks were rosy and a smile crossed her delicate face.
A stout man that Marion did not recognize from their usual dealings emerged from the printing house. He had a small canvas bag clutched in his hand.
“Good evening, my lady,” he puffed, his breath steaming in the cool air. “Your latest publication was a tremendous success, if I may say so. The demand is quite unprecedented and especially for such work. You have quite a talent.”
He handed her the bag with a smile, which she returned as she took the bag.
Verity’s fingers closed around it. There was a look of pure, unadulterated triumph on her face. Despite her unease, Marion found herself smiling as well at the exchange.
“Thank you, Mr. Murray. Truly,” Verity said, her voice but a whisper.
“Just keep working,” he said as he took the manuscript Verity handed to him. “I know you will have a very successful career, especially for one so young. I will be in touch.”
“Understood, sir! You have no idea how many stories ruminate in my mind and are ready to be put to pen and paper. I willsurely reach out as soon as my newest story is complete and I can assure you that it will be my best yet.”
“I have no doubt,” he said as he bowed to them. “If you will excuse me.”
“I ken I gave you a hard time, but I can see why ye are so excited and I have to say… I am very proud of you, lass,” Marion said as soon as they were alone.
“I cannot tell you how much it pleases me to hear that. It is so wonderful to share this with someone. You are truly the dearest friend I have ever known. I do not know what I would do without you.”
“And ye will never have to ken,” Marion said. “Let us be off though. I daenae wanna be out any longer than is required. We best make haste.”
As they turned to leave, the clinking of coins matched the lightness in Verity’s steps, which was almost a dance. Yet, Marion could not shake the prickle of unease that sat in her chest. The street, usually occupied by passersby even at this hour, was disconcertingly quiet. She glanced over her shoulder time and again, sure that there was someone following them.
Then she quickly remembered that Anselm always kept an eye on them whenever his sister was out of the house at night, so she imagined this was someone in his employ.
She saw a cloaked figure. It was indistinct in the shadows but seemed to be following them. Marion realized that the shadow’s pace quickened as they did, keeping time with them at a distance.
