Page 52 of His Bluestocking Bride

The two of them had always been close. Marcus trusted his brother with his life but trusting him with the secrets of his heart was more difficult. He wanted to run his hands through his hair, to tug at his too-stiff collar, to stand and pace like a caged lion at the Tower menagerie. But Lucas’s earnest expression, and Marcus’s uncertainty, finally won out.

“I think I’m falling in love with Ellen.”

Lucas sat back, his eyes going wide. “That’s wonderful news, isn’t it? You don’t look like you think it’s wonderful news.”

“I don’t know that it is.” Marcus stood, unsettled, and gave in to the desire to pace. If he touched his hair or collar, after all, both his mother and his valet would have his hide. “I have no knowledge of her feelings for me, and love has done neither you nor I any favors.”

“It has caused a great deal of pain,” Lucas said, his voice somber. Marcus paused, seeing the shadows from the fire deepening the lines of sorrow in his brother’s face. “But only because it was taken from me and not returned to you. I think you should tell Ellen.”

“I think I should wait.”

Lucas shook his head and leaned back. “You know best. But what have you to lose if she doesn’t return your feelings? You are still married. You have your whole life to woo her.”

“If she doesn’t return them, she could be disgusted completely by them.” Marcus dropped back into his chair with a grimace. “She could be put off by me. Become uncomfortable in my presence. Any number of awful things could happen should I speak before she is ready to hear.”

“Then you had better get her ready to hear.” Lucas shook his head and pointed at the glass cabinet on the wall. “Would you like that drink now? You look like you could use it.”

Marcus groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I told her I didn’t hope for romance. Told her I couldn’t allow that into our relationship. Ever.”

“Then you lied, didn’t you?” Lucas asked, a faint trace of humor in his tone. “But she’ll likely forgive you, if you ask politely enough.”

Marcus shot an irritated look at this brother. “Don’t say anything about this, Luc.”

“Not a word, Marc.” He stood and bowed. “But you can’t blame me if I enjoy watching the dance between you.”

“I suppose not.”

Lucas went to the cabinet and began to prepare their drinks, his back to Marcus. “Did you hear that Selene is in London?”

Marcus’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes tightly. “Of course she is.” He would rather not think about her at all, especially given the situation he found himself in with his wife. Lady Castleton could take herself off back to the Continent, as far as he was concerned, as he had enough trouble at hand without whatever cloud of gossip trailed behind her. “I hope no one speaks of it to Ellen.”

“It’s the ton, Marcus. Everyone will positively rush to tell her.”

Marcus hated that his brother was right.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ellen slipped into the impressive library of her brother-in-law’s home and stood near the fire, leaning against the mantle-piece. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the marble, soothing her headache by pressing against the cool stone. She could hear the rest of the family and guests in the entryway, saying farewell and goodnight.

At least she did not have to become overly accustomed to these events, she told herself. She was not the countess, only the wife of a second son.

Watching Marcus converse with and flatter the other ladies in the party all evening surprised her, but she supposed she ought not to have expected his behavior to be different. No one else thought it strange for him to behave as he always had before.

The voices in the hall grew more faint, with fewer participants speaking, and then she heard the click of boots moving toward the stairs. The family must be alone in the house at last. Ellen relaxed and sighed. She might finally obtain some rest. Supposing Marcus felt no need to rap on the door adjoining their rooms again.

The door to the library opened and Ellen hurriedly stood straight and away from the wall, attempting to appear properly composed.

“It’s me, Ellen.” She turned and Marcus stood there, closing the door behind him. “I knew you’d be here, if you hadn’t already gone to bed.” He looked about the room, at the roaring fire and the shelves of books. “How do you like the library?”

Ellen stared at him and offered a shrug. “It’s very fine.”

“Very fine?” he repeated, coming forward. “That will never do. Not from you. You’ve not taken the time to appreciate it fully.” He held his hand out to her and she slipped hers in without a thought. Marcus tugged her gently towards one of the well-cushioned sofas in the room and motioned for her to sit.

“I will appreciate it more from this vantage point?” She settled on the couch and then looked towards the shelves. “I’m afraid it looks the same, but that isn’t a bad thing. It is a very fine library, Marcus.”

He settled next to her and looked around again. “I always liked it. I spent many afternoons here reading while my mother entertained callers.”

“As a boy?”