Page 152 of To Catch a Viscount

As he’d spoken those words, she’d wanted to believe him. She’d wanted it with every fiber of her soul.

Marcia drew in a deep breath.

She knew what she needed to do. Nay, what she wanted to do.

Escorted home a short while later by her father, Marcia went in search of her husband.

Her husband.

Andrew, who had made love to her so beautifully and so magnificently and—

And who’d received a fat purse for marrying her.

As she went from room to room looking for him, those ridiculous romantic musings flew from her head in a moment. Restless, she strolled through the silent household that was now hers. An eerie silence greeted her, made all the more ominous by the shadows that danced upon the walls and carpeted floors.

Quickening her steps, Marcia headed for his office.

She paused outside, lifting a hand to knock and then stopping.

Did she truly have to knock?

A detail she’d not sorted out, a question she’d not thought to ask. Or mayhap one didn’t ask such questions before marriage. Mayhap one asked them after one spoke one’s vows? Or perhaps one didn’t ask at all? Perhaps one simply figured it out as one went along.

Either way, she was needlessly reminded all over again about this great shift in her existence.

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the smooth, cool surface of the panel. She’d been destined to feel all these things with whomever she’d wed. She’d have certainly felt them with Charles, as Charles had been a stranger to her but for two months of her life.

“Ahem.”

Gasping, Marcia straightened.

“My apologies, my lady,” Thomaston, the kindly butler said. “If you are looking for His Lordship, Lord Waters is outside in the gardens.”

“Thank you, Thomaston,” she said softly.

Marcia headed down to the kitchens.

As was the way with all efficient cooks, several covered trays sat out. After she’d availed herself of a wooden plate, Marcia removed the lid of one and proceeded to fill her dish with an assortment of bread and pastries.

With her filled plate in hand, she headed from the room and resumed her journey.

She reached the double doors leading to the gardens and let herself out.

A rush of chilly night air greeted her, and yet it proved welcome. The crisp coolness of the evening chased away the uncomfortable warmth of the household.

Marcia drew the door shut behind her and assessed the grounds.

The gardens were a tangle of overgrown plants and flowers in desperate need of tending.

And that was when she found him.

She stilled.

Her heart knocked funnily against her chest.

The little cloud of white cheroot smoke that formed a halo of sorts above his head had given him away.

As Thomaston had said, Andrew was here.

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