Page 66 of His Bluestocking Bride

“She said to one of her sisters. Tomorrow.” Marcus shook his head. “I didn’t know until a moment ago. But—”

“How unexpected.” Marianne bit her bottom lip and shared a frown with her husband. “Did she say why?”

“Some excuse about being a fit companion for her—Teresa, I think,” he said, closing his eyes. “But after that visit she intends to go back to Orchard Hill.” Marcus raised a hand and ran it through his hair, uncaring if he upset whatever it was his valet had done attempting to please Ellen. He dropped his hands at his sides helplessly. “I don’t understand.”

“Has something happened to upset her?” Marianne asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

“She hasn’t seemed happy in some time,” he admitted. “We’ve hardly seen each other. Mother has kept her busy and—” And I miss her.

Collin moved slightly, better blocking Marcus from anyone near the dancing that might look to their corner. “Do you want her to go?”

“Of course not. Not unless she takes me with her.” As his mouth closed over the last word in that sentence, Marcus’s heart cracked. He didn’t want to be left behind. Wherever Ellen went, he wished to be at her side. Why hadn’t he made certain they were together here, in London? They’d spent nearly every evening together, since their wedding, before coming here.

The last time they’d sat together, just the two of them, they’d fallen asleep on the couch the night of their arrival.

He’d promised himself after the snowstorm that he would stay nearer her, make certain she understood he enjoyed her company.

It’s my fault she’s leaving, he realized. But what could he do about it?

“Marcus?” Marianne’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Ask me to dance, Marcus. We can fix this.”

He gave her his arm. “Dance with me, Lady Falkham?”

She nodded, but when she took his arm she practically dragged him to the floor. “We need to discover what it is Ellen wants,” she said. “I will ask, if you wish?”

Marcus shook his head. “I already know what she wants.” He would not say more, despite Marianne’s curious expression. They danced, all the while his heart and thoughts racing.

¤

Ellen had not meant to startle Marcus with news of her departure, though she had asked Lucas to allow her to be the one to tell her husband. In truth, Teresa had no idea Ellen meant to come visit. The letter she’d received from her sister had extended an open invitation, for any time in future, but Ellen had clutched at it like a line in a storm. The post with Teresa’s letter had come the same afternoon she spoke with Marcus in the library. It seemed like a Godsend, granting her the escape from London she longed for.

She’d gone almost immediately to Lucas, her plans half formed. Once she was gone from London, she could do as she wished. She would see her family, enjoy a brief time in their presence, and then return to Orchard Hill. There she would be happy, out from under the judgmental gaze of the ton.

After her third dance of the evening, an hour into the ball, Ellen slipped away from the ballroom floor in search of refreshment.

Marcus appeared at her side, as though he’d been waiting for her. She startled, then looped her hand through his arm as naturally as she could. “Marcus, I was going to get some punch.”

“Excellent. I’ll take you.” His words were measured, his face a mask of politeness. Had he already accepted her plan? Would he not attempt to change her mind?

Her heart shrunk and she pressed her lips together.

“I’m coming with you tomorrow,” he said, causing her step to falter.

“What?” Surely, he had not said—

“I will accompany you to your sister’s home.” He made eye contact with her, his jaw remaining set and his brows furrowed.

“No, thank you.” Ellen stepped away from him, to the punch bowl, where she quickly went about serving herself. Why would he attempt such a thing? Was he acting out of a sense of duty? He certainly didn’t look happy about the decision.

“Ellen,” he said, stepping closer. “I wish to be with you.”

She could not bear it. Not now. Ellen as much needed an escape from him, from the feelings continually pressing upon her heart, as she needed it from London.

“I will be well enough without you,” she said, her words coming out more harshly than she intended. Ellen forced herself to meet his eyes. “A maid and groom will accompany me and all will be well.” Her hand shook as she lifted her cup to her lips.

“But Ellen,” he said, leaning closer. She couldn’t help but see the expression in his eyes, a look of contrition, of gentleness. Pity? “Ellen, I have to tell you why—”

“For my protection, I know,” she said quickly, desperately cutting him off. She couldn’t bare more pretty words, more flattery. Her emotions were already in a delicate state.