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“I imagine that is because you are,” the older woman replied dryly. “So, you are a country girl?”

“I suppose I am.”

Marina lowered her gaze, her mind in turmoil. She had never questioned the quality of her answers so much in all of her life, but now she was second-guessing her every reply, fearful that she was saying the wrong thing.

“Good. William favors the country too.” The dowager gave a small nod of approval.

“How is he today?” Marina leaped on the change of subject.

At that, the old woman’s face softened, her bluish eyes almost sparkly. “He is much better. He has a slight cough still, but that salve you left is doing wonders.”

“Is it a dry cough?” Marina asked, her brain already searching through the library of her medical knowledge.

The dowager frowned at her. “How should I know? I am not the one coughing.”

“No, forgive me, I mean is it a cough that produces phlegm or not?” Marina’s face warmed, remembering how horrified this woman had been when she waxed enthusiastic about medical things before. She doubted the dowager would take kindly to the word ‘phlegm’ any more than she had enjoyed ‘apoplectic’.

“Oh… then yes, it is a dry cough,” the dowager answered.

Marina reminded herself to take a breath. “Then, allow me to make something for him. I have a syrup that I concoct in the winter that everyone at Stadley swears by when they start to have coughs and sniffles.”

“That would be… very kind of you, Miss Longman,” the dowager said, with another approving nod.

There was none of the hostility that Marina had expected, yet she could not get rid of the prickling unease within her. Clearly, the dowager had come to talk to her about something; she just had to wait to find out what.

They had almost finished their first circuit of the park in weighted silence, when the dowager expelled a rather meaningful sigh.

“I shall not beat around the bush, Miss Longman, I was surprised when my grandson informed me of his intention to marry you,” she said, her tone clipped. “Naturally, I am grateful for your efforts with William, and I daresay that is part of the reason my grandson has asked you to be his wife.”

But I do not want you to marry him… Marina braced for the words she suspected were coming. After all, she was no one. Her father had no title of his own, a clergyman of little fortune, while her mother had been the third daughter of a well-to-do family, but not titled at all. It was only her uncle who had fortune and station.

“It should not shock you to hear that I am not certain about you,” the dowager continued. “You are not ordinary, you do not follow the rules, you have strange tastes and interests, you seem ill-equipped to be a duchess in the most basic sense of the role’s duty, and, as such, I have not figured you out yet. That being said, I have little doubt that you will be a good guardian for my darling William.”

Will be? Marina allowed her hopes to burn a little brighter, ignoring the rest. After all, it was nothing she had not heard before… or, indeed, told herself over the course of the past week.

“Now, I believe that you are a reasonably sensible girl,” the old woman said with a breath. “I do not think you are someone with great dreams of romance and that sort of thing.”

Marina dipped her head. “You would be right, Your Grace.”

“Harriet, please. If we are to be family, we must speak to one another as such,” the dowager interjected curtly. “However, sensible as I believe you to be, it would be remiss of me not to warn you.”

“Of what, Your G—I mean, Harriet?” Marina doubted that would be an easy informality to overcome, the name sticking in her throat.

The dowager stopped walking and leveled a hard stare at Marina. “My grandson is not an affectionate man. He distances himself, even from those closest to him, and he does not trust people easily, if at all.”

“But he said he trusted me,” Marina blurted out, her face hot.

The old woman’s mouth dropped open, though she closed it quickly. “When?”

“During the evening I tended to William.”

A deep line appeared between the old woman’s eyebrows. “Well, that is… interesting to hear. Good. Yes, that is good.” Her face did not appear to agree. “What I am trying to say is that you should think very hard about whether or not you can see a future without affection from your husband. He will not let you get close to him.”

Marina held the woman’s stern gaze. Here was someone who was there during Anthony’s previous marriage, but Marina did not know what to ask. What might be considered impolite? Could she ask if he had been affectionate with his first wife, or if his lack of affection was a result of her passing? Would that be too much? Would he not allow Marina close because of his first wife’s death, or was it unrelated?

In the end, Marina found that her questions did not matter. His past was his past, just as hers was hers. If she would not discuss her past, why should she learn more about his? Besides, it was the future he had already offered that interested her.

“I am not one for company anyway,” she replied with a shy smile. “And what we have agreed upon is all I need.”