Page 83 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
Anselm stood there, his chest heaving from exertion and his hand resting on the hilt of a concealed walking stick. He looked at Marion and Verity and scanned them for injury.
“Are you both unharmed?” he demanded, his voice still tight with concern. “Please tell me you are all right. Did he…”
Verity only nodded in response. She continued to clutch the bag to her chest as if it was a prized trophy. Marion felt a surge of relief so profound that it almost buckled her knees.
“Oh, Anselm! Ye… ye arrived just in time!” Marion said in relief. “We are quite all right now, thanks to ye.”
He merely gave a curt nod because his gaze was still fixed on the alley where the would-be thief had disappeared. He shook his head and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Let us return home. Immediately,” he ordered.
The roaring fire was a welcome balm for Marion’s weary bones. The warmth of the drawing room was a stark contrast to the cool alley. A pot of steaming tea sat on the low table as a maid served them silently. Marion and Verity were seated on the sofa with a blanket across their laps.
“I simply cannot believe it,” Verity breathed, her voice still a little shaky as she took the cup from Beth and raised it to her lips. “He simply… appeared. Like a guardian angel!”
Verity looked at Marion with a bewildered expression on her face.
“Do you think he was just passing by?” Verity asked. “What an odd chance that he was there just at that time.”
Marion glanced at Anselm who stood by the fireplace. His back was to them and he was seemingly staring into the flames as he stoked the hearth with the poker. Marion knew the truth, that his appearance was no mere chance, but the words felt heavy on her tongue. Instead, she brought the tea to her lips and gave a nod to Beth, who wordlessly excused herself.
Anselm turned then. His expression was unreadable as Marion worried what he meant to say next. She wanted to walk to his side and throw her arms around him, when he spoke.
“No, Verity,” he said, shaking his head in anger. “I was not merely passing by.”
Verity’s eyes widened as she clearly considered his words before rising to her feet to meet him at the fireplace.
“Then… then you followed us…You followed us? Like a… a spy?”
Anselm’s jaw tightened and he set the poker down next to the fire. He turned to meet his sister, and they looked at each other eye-to-eye.
“I was ensuring your safety because it is my duty. This city is not safe for two ladies unescorted at night—especially when one is carrying a substantial sum of money. How could you be so reckless as to think I would allow you to wander off like that?”
“Ensuring my safety?” Verity’s eyes flashed. “Or ensuring I remain tucked under your thumb?”
She let out a sharp breath, struggling to rein in her temper. “I know it was foolish—of course I do. I know the risks here better than you think. But for once, I wasn’t thinking about danger. I was thinking about freedom. About what it felt like to earn something entirely by my own hand.”
Anselm’s mouth tightened, but before he could speak, Verity turned to Marion, her voice still heated but less accusatory.
“And you. You knew, didn’t you? You knew he was watching us, and you said nothing.” Her tone held more hurt than anger now. “You could have warned me.”
Marion’s heart twisted as Verity’s gaze softened just slightly.
“I only wanted a taste of freedom, Marion. Just for a moment.”
Marion rose, her hands outstretched in an offering of peace. “Oh, Verity, no! It is nae like that at all. Yer brother, he was concerned. After… after what happened with Lord Fanthorpe and everythin’… he only wanted to protect ye. He loves ye, even if he cannae say it. I ken it as well as I ken me own name. I promise ye.”
“Protect me? Or control me? Of course you would not know. He controls you as much as he does me!”
“You will watch yourself, sister,” Anselm warned as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Is this what my newfound freedom entails? That I am to be constantly watched by some guard dog? Or better yet, constantly judged andprotectedfrom myself? From being who I truly am?!”
“You are overreacting,” Anselm barked.
“And you, Marion! My friend and confidante… You kept this secret from me? How long has this arrangement existed between you?”
“Verity!” Marion called as she walked toward her.
