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“I think it was simply that they were disappointed with the help they were receiving,” Anne offered. “I really couldn’t say, My Lord. It’s hardly my place to question the ways of my superiors.”
Reginald grimaced, as if Anne’s perfectly serviceable statement was the most abominable thing he’d ever heard. “You certainly have the leave to question my ways,” he replied. “Thank you for your time.”
Never in her life had Marcella seen a lordwantto be questioned by anyone, much less his own staff. They continued their journey around the library, descending to the bottom floor of it. Marcella’s face lit up at the sight of all the gilded tomes. She tried to hide her enthusiasm, to not express the childish wonder which ached to burst forth from the very depths of her soul.
Her husband looked lost in contemplation, likely still lingering on what Anne had said about the staff and their positions. Marcella supposed that she would be in charge of who was hired, then. She was the lady of the house.
I cannot muster any enthusiasm for the task, unfortunately. I’ve scarcely been wed to Reginald for a day, and already, I’m a failure of a wife.
She wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to be a proper wife, but the role had been thrust on her. It seemed as though she didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Marcella wandered along the books, trailing her finger along the spines. As she did, she became aware of Reginald watching her.
“You like to write,” he said, sounding as though he’d just recalled that. “That sounds like a…noble pursuit.”
“I will do that,” she said quietly. “I’ve resolved to be a novelist, and although I won’t have nearly as much time to write as I’d like, I’ll not abandon my dreams because I’m now your lawfully wedded wife.”
Reginald sighed. “You seem so combative with me now. This doesn’t have to be some terrible torment, certainly not to the degree that you think it will be, Marcella. We could have quite an amicable marriage, I think.”
“I’m sorry,” Marcella replied. “I don’t think I manage my disappointment well, and even if the situation isn’t ideal, I shouldn’t point my anger at you. You’ve been quite kind.”
A shiver raced through Marcella when she remembered their kiss in the rain. In that moment, she’d felt fierce sensations, which she’d never known herself capable of feeling. She was capable of connecting with Reginald, on one level it seemed. It seemed possible that she could like him if she gave him a chance. An unconventional man for an unconventional lady, just like Adeline had said.
Adeline is so utterly reasonable, and all her advice led me to this moment. I wonder if I’ve been wrong in trying to avoid the inevitable. I’ve been childish. Maybe I should’ve simply accepted my fate.
“I would like to know one thing, however,” Reginald said, lowering his voice. “Which face is really yours? Are you the cold, vain lady who can find no pleasure in anyone or anything, or are you the fiery would-be writer who is so unlike anyone I’ve ever met?”
