Page 28 of His Bluestocking Bride

Marcus’s expression confused her. His eyebrows were drawn together, but he wore a crooked smile. As he accepted the gifts, his fingers brushed hers, reminding her of the kiss on her hand.

“This is very thoughtful, Ellen,” he said, his voice betraying neither pleasure nor annoyance. “Thank you.”

Ellen’s heart fell and she released her hold on the book. He would not use it, she knew, and Ellen could not decide if she was more disappointed in her inability to please him or his refusal to use what she knew must be a very real talent.

“I remember your sketches,” she said, lowering her eyes to his cravat. “They were beautiful, when we were children.”

“Thank you.” He tucked the book beneath his arm and kept the pencil case in his hands. “I’m going to freshen up. My room is next to yours, that way.” He nodded down the hall. “If you need anything, there is a bell-pull next to the bed and Sarah should be waiting in your dressing room.”

“Dressing room?”

He pointed over her shoulder to a door near one of the bookshelves. She hadn’t noticed it before.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Marcus nodded again and pulled the door shut as he left.

Ellen stepped forward and leaned against the door, taking in her perfect bedroom again.

“Stop trying, Ellen,” she whispered to herself. “Be the woman he wants you to be. Useful. Sensible.”

It was hardly sensible for a newlywed woman to cry. Ellen forced herself to square her shoulders and went in search of Sarah to restore her appearance.

This home is mine, Ellen reminded herself, taking in the room with one sweeping glance. And I will be happy here.

¤

Marcus waited for Ellen in the upstairs drawing room, thinking over their recent interactions. Their wedding vows still weighed on his heart. Why had he never paid attention to that list of promises made before God and man? He had attended several weddings, but since the words were never said by him he had not given them enough notice.

Wilt thou love her.

When had that been written? What did it mean? Romantic love had been a chance thing until the last few decades. His parents had been part of an arranged marriage, and they got on well enough. Had they made the same promises of love when they barely knew each other?

Then there was Ellen’s declaration after the service. I always keep my promises.

Did she mean their wedding promises?

Marcus shook away the thoughts as best he could, pacing from the irritating crackle of the logs in the fire to the window and back again. Their promises hadn’t bothered him until he arrived at the house with her. That was when it struck him, holding her hand to help her down from the carriage, that their vows sealed them together for good or ill for the rest of their lives.

He looked at Orchard Hill with new eyes. Was it enough to present to a bride? It was not even so large as the home she had been brought up in. Oak Lodge was statelier than his inherited home.

As brother to an earl, it would be his duty to remain part of society without ever holding title or rank, to reflect well on Lucas and the family. But he would have none of their wealth or importance.

He could not even give his wife love, though he’d promised it in the church the day before.

Then he watched Ellen’s reaction when she saw their home.

Ellen’s lovely face had born an expression that nearly took his breath away. Her eyes shone with a joy that returned his pride to him. The house did not disappoint her. She retained that look of near-awe when they walked inside, an energy radiating from her that nearly put his fears to rest.

The house pleased her, he thought with a measure of comfort.

His addition to her room, the bookcases, delighted her.

And suddenly, without warning, Marcus wondered if he pleased her. Yes, she made the choice to wed him, but would she ever look at him with such unabashed joy as she did at so simple a thing as shelving?

That isn’t what I want. Theirs was a practical arrangement. Nothing more.

A soft knock preceded her entrance. Marcus turned to face the door as Ellen stepped in, no longer in her travelling clothes, but wearing a dress of deep blue. Her bonnet was gone, replaced with a bandeau to tame her black hair. When his stare met hers, Ellen’s cheeks pinked and she wasn’t smiling.