He forced a smile. “Of course not, love. I’m sure you have the entire thing planned already.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering there. Then, to his surprise, she let it go.
She pressed onto her toes, giving him a quick kiss. “It’s going to be perfect.”
“You shall be the hostess of the year,” he murmured, watching her closely. She wasn’t questioning him. That alone sparked suspicion.
Evan started to ask—but stopped himself. He was on edge. Seeing threats in every shadow.
“Supper should be ready soon,” Marina said lightly, shifting the conversation.
“Then allow me to escort you,” Evan replied, finally finding the grin he reserved for her. The one that always tempted his wife in ways that worked in his favor. “So we might see about that punishment of mine afterward.”
He deserved far worse than whatever the playful punishment his wife had planned—for keeping this from her. But if it spared her even one nightmare, it was worth it.
Chapter 5
Three weeks later
Marina
Marinawipedhermouthwith a handkerchief, cursing her unsettled stomach. The nightmares hadn’t returned, but the anxiety remained—gnawing at her, twisting her insides. Perhaps it was punishment for keeping secrets from Evan. For convincing herself she hadn’t seen what she knew she had.
She’d spent countless hours at the window, watching the trees for movement, for some shadow slipping between them. Nothing. It would be easier to believe she’d imagined it—if not for the nagging unease that refused to leave.
And then there was Evan. He hadn’t been himself since his meeting with Browning. When she’d asked, he’d brushed it off, assuring her it was handled. Which only confirmed that it wasn’t. He should know by now he could talk to her, but no—he was a man about it. Bottling things up, letting pride and stubbornness keep him silent. She only allowed him to continue in such a manner because she kept her own secret.
With a sigh, she turned back to the desk, sorting through the growing pile of replies to her house party invitations. Almost all were acceptances thus far. Ironically, their closest friends had yet to respond. Hudson, Earl of Onslow, would attend—though not by choice. If anyone needed a wife to ease his perpetual brooding, it was him. Not that Marina held much hope of orchestrating a match. When it came to that difficult man, she would concede.
Lady Preston had requested to bring a friend, Lady Lily, which conveniently evened the numbers. That is, if no one declined at the last moment.
Movement at the door caught her eye. A footman. Again. She narrowed her gaze, and as if caught, he gave a stiff nod before retreating.
This was happening far too often.
When she’d questioned Baxter about the sudden increase in footmen, he’d claimed Evan had expanded the staff to accommodate the house party. A reasonable explanation. But she hardly needed to be babysat in her own home.
Then again… if someone was lurking in the woods, extra footmen weren’t the worst idea.
She picked up another letter and immediately recognized the Duke of St. Albans’ seal. Heart quickening, she broke it open. Scanning the contents, she let out an incredulous laugh.
“Well, holy hell.”
“And what,” a familiar voice drawled from the doorway, “has earned such a reaction from my perfect little minx?”
She smirked, not bothering to look up. “Lurking in doorways again? Some might call that stalking.” The words left her lips before she could stop them. She glanced toward the window. Nothing there.
Evan strolled over and settled on the desk’s edge. “Admiring, not stalking. There’s a difference.” He reached for her, his fingers trailing down her arm. “Besides, can’t a man watch his beautiful wife at work?”
He never failed to make her heart flutter. And damn him, he knew it.
“Indeed, he may. But I wasn’t aware watching me beat you in a wager was so captivating.”
Evan pulled her to stand, positioning her between his legs. “Everything you do is captivating.”
Leaning into him, Marina sighed as his arms encircled her. She fit against him perfectly, and his touch soothed her in a way nothing else could.
“Flatterer,” she murmured. “You needn’t try so hard. You’ve already won me, love.”
