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She blushed a pretty shade of pink. “I thought you said you did not lie?”
“And I meant it. There is no one here I would rather dance with. No one else I would risk my toes for.” He leaned in slightly. “Have I yet told you how lovely you look tonight?”
Pink turned to a rosy red. “Your grandmother has much gaudier taste than I do.”
“There is nothing gaudy about it,” he insisted. “It is exactly the dress a duchess and a lady doctor deserve. It is a declaration of a dress.”
She tilted her head, smiling that radiant smile of hers. “Oh? And what is it saying?”
“It is saying, ‘I am here. Stare all you like; I do not care’.” He raised his hand and gently stroked his thumb across the scarred skin that she always tried to hide behind a sweep of hair. “They are, all of them, beneath you. Your clever mind alone probably sets you above most of them. Now, your status ensures the rest.”
She blushed as if she were a debutante and he had just complimented her hair or her prettiness, rather than her tremendous intelligence.
It made him chuckle. You are certainly an odd creature, Marina, but you are my odd creature.
At that moment, the music faded to a close, the couples parting to bow and curtsy respectively. Anthony had to fight against the urge to keep hold of her, allowing her to step back so they could complete the dance appropriately.
Dipping into a bow, he could not quite believe how much he had enjoyed that. Most of all, what a privilege it had been to hear his wife’s sad story, unveiling some of the mystery of how she came to be the way she was.
What are you doing? a warning hissed in his mind. This is the exact opposite of what this marriage is supposed to be.
But when he stood back up to his full height and offered his arm to his wife, he found that he did not have it in him to put distance between them. Not tonight. Not after all the courage she had shown.
“Come,” he said, leading her back through a crowd that openly stared, mouths agape, “let us see if they dare to whisper now. If they do, I shall not take it lightly.”
Marina peered up at him. “Might we have a refreshment?”
“Of course,” he replied, heading toward the banquet table where Octavia and Malcolm still stood, beaming. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“I should like something cool,” she answered, touching her hand to her forehead. “I worry I might have overexerted myself.”
He pulled her tighter to his side. “Do you feel unwell again?”
“I do not know. It is hard to say.” Her hand moved to her throat. “Just a little too warm, I think.”
“Then you must sit and have an ice,” he told her, surprised once more by the fierce instinct that awoke within him, to protect this woman at all costs.
Oh no… He swallowed tightly. I think… I think I am beginning to care for her.
If he was not more cautious, the rules he had set for himself would shatter into a million pieces. But it was the shards of the ensuing consequences that worried him most of all, if she got close enough to learn what kind of man he truly was.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After three days in the city, Marina was more than ready to return to the freedom of the countryside. Anthony’s townhouse was lovely, the rooms vast and airy, the gardens neat and just about green enough to soothe her, but the noise and the endless buildings and the bombardment of invitations was too stifling.
Not to mention, she still had a workshop and a study to prepare for her future endeavors.
“Your Grace, where are you off to?” Mrs. Havers asked cheerily, catching Marina on her way out of the door.
That was the other difficulty that Marina had discovered; everyone wanted to know where she was going and what she was doing at all times. It was well-intentioned, she knew that, but after a lifetime of relative liberty, it too was stifling.
“I thought I would enjoy a brisk walk to the bakery, to fetch some things for our journey back to Knotgill,” Marina replied, forcing a smile. “William adores the currant buns.”
The housekeeper paused. “Shall I fetch His Grace to come with you? Or Her Grace, perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” Marina said stiffly. “I shall be quite all right alone.”
I need the solitude. Mercy, how I need it.
