Page 28 of To Catch a Viscount

And it was so unexpected, soforeignthese days, she started at the feel of it shaking her frame.

Marcia stood as well.

“I’ll have you know, Ididenjoy myself,” Andrew murmured, dusting a finger down the curve of her cheek, and that place he touched tingled just as that sensitive place at her nape had.

She gave his hand another playful swat. “Liar.”

Andrew tangled his fingers with hers, and her breath shuddered as he raised her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss atop her knuckles. She trembled once more.

“Not this time, Mar.”

Mar.

It had long been the childlike nickname he’d given her. In this moment, however, there was a heightened intimacy to both his touch and his use of that single-syllable moniker that left her head clouded.

Suddenly, he released her. “You really should return.”

“I can’t think of a single reason to.”

“I’ll dance with you.” He spread his arms and dropped a deep, courtly bow. “My dance skills are legendary.”

For a second time that night, and in so very long, a laugh escaped her. He might well just be teasing, and he might have made her smile at the orders of his brother-in-law, but she’d be forever grateful for that. Going up on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He touched a finger to that place her lips had touched. “Whatever was that for?”

“For not treating me as though I’m dying or sick or pathetic.”

“I’ve already told you you’ve dodged a bullet, love. He did you a favor.” With that, he headed for the door. “You’ll see,” he promised, lifting his palm in a wave.

With that, Andrew left, and Marcia was alone.

Unlike before, however, after her friends’ visit, the same melancholy and misery didn’t come rushing up to meet her.

Because, for a brief while, with Andrew, the Viscount Waters, she’d simply been Marcia.

Not Marcia the jilted bride.

Not Marcia the bastard daughter.

Not the pathetic creature whom everyone pitied or scorned.

She’d just been herself, and it had felt so very good.

Do you know, you’re right. If you don’t want to, you shouldn’t have to. You should feel free to do whatever you want.

“Do whatever I want,” she murmured, repeating those afterthought-feeling words he’d spoken, advice she’d not noticed in the moment had been advice, or so very valuable and important to hear.

Distractedly, she toyed with the necklace, the silly talisman her friends had brought, and Andrew had placed upon her neck.

And she stopped.

That was it. That was it exactly.

Not for the first time that night, Marcia smiled.

Chapter 6

The parade had continued.

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