Page 55 of His Bluestocking Bride

Marcus didn’t want to laugh. He wanted to curl back up on the sofa with Ellen, holding her in his arms, and find the peace he’d felt upon waking to find her there.

Instead, he led Ellen from the room and through the halls. Her evening slippers made no noise on the marble floor or grand staircase, and he treaded lightly enough that his own steps were nearly silent. They saw no one as they went down the halls to the family quarters, where he stopped before her bedroom door.

“No one will expect you up for hours yet,” he told her, looking down through the hall’s shadows into her beautiful eyes. It was harder to see her here than it had been in the library, so he may have imagined her blush. “You can take a nap if you wish.”

She nodded and tipped her head to one side, regarding him with curiosity. “What of you? Will you go back to sleep?”

Marcus traced the delicate lines of her jaw with his eyes, then took in the dark ringlets framing her face and the locks of hair that had escaped her elaborate coiffure in the night. Her loveliness, her soft features, drew him to stand closer. He longed to kiss her but fought not to stare at the curve of her soft pink lips. Instead, Marcus took her hands up in both of his.

Ellen’s breath caught and he wondered if his nearness alarmed or excited her. Would he ever have the courage to find out? If she could not love him, her rejection would wound him more deeply than a woman like Selene ever could.

“I doubt I will be able to sleep, even if I tried, with the same peace and comfort I enjoyed before waking this morning.” Let her make of that what she would. The admission drained most of his energy and Marcus could not bear to lay any more of his heart open to her yet. He did not meet her eyes as he dropped a kiss upon her forehead, then he turned and walked the several paces to his door.

The sound of her door opening and closing again with a soft click was all he heard, then he ducked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it heavily.

Despite his weariness of spirit, Marcus knew he would not sleep. His eyes darted to the door connecting his bedchamber to his wife’s and he shook his head. He went to the wardrobe and dug through it until he found his riding clothes. Without calling his valet, something he knew he would have to explain to Cray later, Marcus undressed and dressed himself with haste.

A bruising ride through the park was exactly what he needed to face the world at large and, as his wife had once told him, to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Accompanying his wife through the town lifted Marcus’s spirits considerably. Ellen’s curiosity of nearly everything to do with London had him remembering lessons in history, deportment, and geography. Though Ellen expressed her desire to take everything in as quickly as possible, their tour was confined to the shops on his mother’s orders. Ellen was to find a suitable ballgown for that very evening and commission another one with haste.

“She cannot appear in ballgowns from last season. From Bath’s last season,” his mother had proclaimed in horror upon seeing Ellen’s wardrobe.

Marcus visited several seamstresses with his wife, until they found a woman whose French accent was better than the others’ and who took one look at Ellen and announced she already had the perfect dress.

“It will take a little altering. Another client commissioned it, of course, but now finds she cannot be seen in blue. Imagine, giving up a dress so exquisite on a whim.” The seamstress sniffed disdainfully and raised her shoulders in a way that nearly convinced Marcus she had come from France.

“Come with me, Mrs. Calvert.” She took Ellen by the hand and led her into a back room for a fitting, and when Ellen looked back at him with a helpless smile he shrugged and waved.

Marcus sauntered around the front of the shop, looking at some of the fashion plates left on tables to tempt customers, but then his eyes strayed up to the window and he looked out on the street.

Lady Selene, now Lady Castleton, stood on the walk and stared up at him. She tipped her head to the side, a slow, feline smile changing her features from lovely to exquisite. No one in England knew how to play up their features to such perfection as she did.

He waited to feel pain at the sight of her, for his heart to leap, or any of the old reactions to come. Instead, he relief washed over him.

She held no power over him any longer.

With that knowledge to fortify him, Marcus went out the door and directly to her.

“My, my. Marcus Calvert,” she said, holding her hand out to him in greeting. He took it and bowed, in as slight a manner as he could without giving offense.

“Lady Castleton.”

“Oh, dear man, we are old friends. Surely you will still call me Selene?” She lowered her lashes, falsely demure.

Marcus smirked, realizing she was trying to play the game with him. But he had already won. “That was years ago, my lady, and I feel I do not know you so well as I thought. But it’s of no consequence. We will not be seeing each other again. I wished to say goodbye.”

She blinked up at him, confusion momentarily clouding her crystal blue eyes, but she pushed her bottom lip forward in a pout he had once found adorable. What had been wrong with him? The juvenile behavior did nothing to recommend her anymore.

“But, Mr. Calvert. Marcus. How could you say that? We are both in London. It is the season. And I wished to invite you to the theater with me this week.”

“That will be impossible,” he said firmly. “I intend to go to the theater next week, with my wife, but we already have a full schedule until then.” He couldn’t help grinning when she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I have missed you,” she stated, the look in her eyes bolder. “Surely you know what you meant to me. My marriage is without warmth of feeling or kindness of spirit. I merely thought you, someone who cared for me, might offer some comfort.”

Her meaning hit him squarely between the eyes and he took a step back. “My lady, you are most mistaken in the nature of our relationship in past or the present. I must also say that there will be no future conversation between us. Good bye.” He tipped his hat to her, then turned and fled back into the dress shop.