Page 93 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“But it is so terribly sad,” she said as she reached out, gently touching Marion’s arm. “He is a fool, Marion. A complete, utter fool. Believe me, I have told him.”
“He thinks he is protectin’ me,” Marion whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use. “From… from the vulnerability of feelin’. I am tryin’ to make sense of it?—”
“And what ofyourfeelings?” Verity countered, her voice sharp. “Does he not consider the pain he inflicts on you? Has he not been up here to see for himself?”
“No, he hasnae come. He only sends word with a footman or Mrs. Clarke. Aye, I cannae think of what to say. He doesnae understand emotion. Perhaps it will be easier when I return to Scotland… Perhaps I could stay with Elspeth for a bit…”
“Does he truly believe that a life devoid of emotion is a life worth living?” She sighed. “I promise you that I have tried to speak sense into him. He was like a stone wall; one I cannot break down.”
Marion shook her head before turning back to her painting. She walked over to her paints and mixed hues to develop a new shade of green.
“It is no use, Verity. He has made his decision. And I… I cannae fight him for a heart he does not wish to give. Even if it kills me…”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Iwill sleep here all night if I must. Anselm cursed to himself as he sat back in his leather chair.
That night, Anselm sat alone in his study. The only source of light came from the flickering gas lamp on his desk which accentuated the half-empty decanter of brandy beside it. He poured another glass and the amber liquid glinted. He swallowed it quickly.
So much cursed silence.
The silence of the house was oppressive, a reminder of Marion’s absence, and of his sister’s cold disapproval. He hated it all. He loathed the emptiness and the gnawing sense of wrongness. Yet, he knew what was best.
I must protect them. I must protect myself.
A knock, tentative at first, then firmer when no response came, interrupted his grim solitude.
“Your Grace? May I enter?” a deep voice called as the door swung open.
Emmanuel.
Anselm sighed while running a hand over his face. He did not want company.
“Come in,” he bit out, in spite of himself.
Emmanuel walked quietly to the chair opposite Anselm’s desk and sat, his expression unusually grave. Anselm set down his glass and sat up straighter so that he might do Emmanuel the honor of having his full attention.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. Genuine worry caught in his throat.
“Yes, Anselm,” Emmanuel began, his voice soft. “This… this cannot continue. I know that Her Grace is heartbroken. Your sister is distraught. The very air in this house is thick with misery. I can feel it in my bones.”
Anselm took another swallow of brandy and shook his head, realizing that the source of his friend’s unease was him.
“My domestic affairs are not your concern, Emmanuel. What I could use is a drinking companion. Care for a glass?” He reached for another tumbler.
“Everything that affects you, affects me, my friend,” Emmanuel countered. “And this all, I know that it affects you deeply. I saw you last night. You were a man possessed. There were clouds in front of your haunted green eyes.”
“I do not need you to remark on the finer points of my eyes?—”
“And today, you look as though the weight of the world sits wholly on your shoulders. As it has for far too long.” He leaned forward. “You love her, Anselm. It is as plain as those green eyes. Why? Why are you pushing her away?”
Anselm slammed his glass onto the desk and the sharp clang echoed in the quiet room.
“You know nothing of it! Our marriage was a contract, a necessity to avoid scandal and ruin. It was never meant to be… to be anything more than that. We have gone too far. It is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Emmanuel scoffed. “What is so dangerous about happiness, Anselm? About love? I wish to make light of this, to bring balance to your dark thoughts… but I find myself unable to come up with anything worthy of a laugh. You worry me, Anselm.”
“Love makes one vulnerable!” Anselm retorted, his voice rising, a raw edge to it. “It makes one weak! It makes one lose control!”
