Page 84 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“I cannot see him, Mother,” she whispered, her heart filled with fear, sorrow, and an inexplicable sense of longing. What is he had been attempting to see her to confirm the annulment? Perhaps this was the main reason for her reluctance.

Caroline looked as though she wanted to say something, her eyes softening with empathy. She took a moment, perhaps considering her words carefully, but in the end, she simply said, “It is well, my dear.” There was a world of understanding and encouragement in those few words.

With that, she exited the conservatory, presumably to deliver Agnes’ message to Theodore. Leslie and Harriet had sent her numerous missives, but she did not have the heart to respond. Agnes was not ready to disappoint them, and she would rather Theodore informed them of the annulment.

As she returned her eyes to the page, footsteps came, and she knew these very well. “Did he send you, as well?” she askedwithout looking up, her voice laced with a hint of weariness from the emotional turmoil she was enduring.

“No, he did not,” Philip replied, his voice carrying a gentle reassurance as he sat beside her on the bench. He extended his hand, and she found him offering her a sugarplum, a small gesture that spoke volumes of his understanding. “I thought to bring you something sweet.”

“This is why you are my most thoughtful brother,” she murmured, gratefully accepting the sweetmeat. The small candy felt comforting in her hand, a reminder of simpler times. “Thank you.”

“Do not allow Harry and Georgie to hear you,” Philip chuckled, and Agnes smiled.

They sat in companionable silence after, each lost in their own thoughts. Until her brother broke it with, “Gillingham took me riding in Essex.”

Agnes looked up at him, surprised. “He did?”

“Yes. We rode to the ruins of Gillingham Castle. He said he wanted to restore it for you.”

Agnes inhaled, her heart racing. She felt an overwhelming surge of all the emotions she’d kept down. The thought of Theodore planning something so thoughtful for her, despite everything, struck a chord deep within her.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, the dam of her emotions threatening to break. The weight of everything—the misunderstanding, the distance, and now the undeniable proof of his feelings—was almost too much to bear.

“The Marquess cares deeply for you, Agnes, but I’m sure you already know that,” her brother added, his voice gentle.

This undid Agnes. She decided she wanted to see him—no, shehadto. Theodore had been diligent, and she owed him her audience, at the very least. She wanted to hear what he had to say, to understand his intentions and perhaps find the answers she had been seeking.

“Is the Marquess still here?”

“Mother told him you had no wish to see him, but he didn’t leave,” Philip replied, a slight smile touching his lips as he noted the faint glimmer of relief in her eyes.

“Can you let him know where I am?” she implored, her decision firm now.

Philip was only too eager to get to his feet. He hurried out of the conservatory, and her grip on the book tightened. The next footfalls he heard were strong and purposeful, and when she looked up, her husband was standing in the arched conservatory doorway.

He somehow managed to look worse than she felt, and under different circumstances, she would have teased him about his appearance, how the charming Marquess looked leaner. He bore a single white lily and offered it to her with a tentative, almost shy smile.

Agnes took the flower, then asked, “Is this a game to you, Theodore? First you send me away, and now you won’t stop calling.”

“I know what fool I have been, Agnes,” he said as he took Philip’s vacated spot on the bench. “I fell in love, but I let my fears rule my heart instead.”

Agnes blinked. Had she heard him correctly? Love he said? Agnes felt dangerous hope kindle within her. But caution was at the fore of her emotions right now.

“Then why?” She asked. “Why did to subject us both to such pain?” She added.

“I’d been hoping to protect you from future pain,” he replied.

“I don’t understand, Theodore,” she said.

“My father, Agnes, was not just a gambler and a drunk,” he sighed.

“He was verbally and physically abusive and had put our mother through the worst hell imaginable. I feared putting you throughthe same. I needed to protect you from the monster I could become. I So, I let you go,” he elaborated.

“I never knew...” Agnes gasped in shock.

Frances was right. There had indeed been a reason for his actions.

“I vowed not to father a child I would also abuse,” he continued.

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