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Marina sighed. “I think he would prefer it if you taught him.” A thought came to her. “Unless, of course, you are worried that you are not enough of a horseman to educate him properly. In that case, a tutor probably is the wisest choice. I would not want him to be badly taught.”
Anthony cast her a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing. “I am a very adept horseman. I have lost count of the hunts I have been part of, managing difficult terrain on horseback. Indeed, it is a requirement when we go to Scotland to hunt: you must be an excellent rider.”
She smothered a smile; he had taken the bait.
“Well then, if I were you, I would want to be the one to teach my son,” she said as blandly as she could. “You never know what you might get with these tutors. I have heard tales of tutors that are terrible at what they do, but they blame it on the child and collect their plump payment regardless.”
“Where have you heard of this?”
Marina shrugged. “Among the ladies I met while I was in London,” she fibbed. “One was quite outraged that her son’s dancing tutor had taught him nothing at all. She had thought her child was inept, but then she happened to peek in at a lesson and saw the dance tutor asleep, so it turned out it was the teacher at fault in the end. And dancing is, in most cases, far less dangerous than riding.”
She focused on pouring the cordial into the bottle, so he would not see the half smirk of hope that played at the corner of her mouth. If she looked at him for even a moment, he would surely see what she was up to.
“I had not thought of it like that,” he said, a short while later. “Yes, perhaps I should be the one to teach my son to ride. A boy cannot be incapable of riding a horse as he gets older. Indeed, a gentleman must know how.”
Marina’s heart began to quicken its beat, excitement coursing through her. “William and I have arranged to spend a couple of hours each day in the woods, where I can teach him about plants and their uses, but perhaps you could have a couple of those hours with him instead. If you but let me know, I shall bring him to the stables.”
“I will think about it,” Anthony replied.
It is working! I am doing it! She bit her lip to prevent a smile of triumph, and thought of that sweet boy, finally getting to spend some time in his father’s company.
Yes, she might not have been able to conjure affection between the two, but if they could just get closer by themselves, she was certain that William would feel less isolated from his father. And Anthony, too, might begin to feel more like a father. Someone involved in his son’s life.
“Tell me more of these stories that you have been warning my son with,” he said.
Allowing herself to smile, she happily obliged.
As they stood side by side at the stove, in a steady rhythm of dipping and pouring to fill up the bottles, Marina regaled him with some of the grisly tales she had told William. And a few that she had not, just to see if she could shock the duke.
He listened intently, sometimes smiling, sometimes asking questions about the unfortunate victims of such medical strangeness, sometimes just letting her prattle on as he added more to the bottles, sometimes looking at her in a way that made it impossible for her to concentrate.
“And you would not falter if you were to see a leg hanging off?” he asked, a dark chuckle sounding in the back of his throat, as he sealed the last of the cordial bottles.
Marina paused to think. “I would be surprised, certainly, but I am not troubled by gruesome things. I would be more concerned with the patient’s pain and if they were conscious, and how much blood they had lost already.” She laughed awkwardly. “In truth, it would be one of the simplest medical decisions.”
“It would?”
She nodded. “It would have to be removed. One day, perhaps, the finest scientific and medical minds in the world might discover a way to reattach a limb that has… come off, but until then… yes, the solution would be a simple one.”
“You are very odd, Marina,” he told her, turning with a smile. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
A slight sting of insult crinkled her forehead into a frown. “Funnily enough, not until I entered society. Before then, no one ever told me I was unusual.”
She had suspected, perhaps, that it was not customary for a young lady to do as she pleased, read what she pleased, study what she pleased, left half wild in a countryside manor. But her Uncle Bernard had celebrated her mind and her independence, championing her instead of making her feel like an odd creature.
Then, you decided I had to be like everyone else, and now here I am…
Marriage had never even been discussed until a few months ago, when Bernard had brought it up, rather seriously, over breakfast. Nevertheless, Marina had thought he was joking at first, until it became clear that he was determined for her to wed.
She still did not know what had caused the change in her uncle. He had insisted it was his age, but she did not quite believe that.
“It is not a bad quality,” Anthony said, altering his tone. “From what you have told me, my son is certainly entertained.”
“I am glad to be of interest to him,” she replied, her voice laced with the hurt of his insult.
What am I, a court jester?
She almost jumped in fright as she felt Anthony’s hand on her arm, his rough palm against her bare skin. His hand was warm where he touched her, the slight friction of his calluses rather pleasant against her smooth skin.
