Page 2 of Marquess of Stone

“It is only for one night,” Marian reminded her as she tucked an errand strand of hair back into her bonnet.

Jane and Diana exchanged a mischievous glance. “Oh, but Marian,” Jane continued, her tone saccharine, “surely you are not looking forward to another party? Just think of all the stuffy dances and endless discussions about eligible gentlemen. I am sure there will be no shortage —”

“What I look forward to,” Marian said, shooting her sister a wry smile, “is seeing Lydia again. That is all.”

The sky turned a deep shade of dark purple as the Brandon family all made their way inside the Inn. Inside, the fire in the hearth provided warmth and a welcoming atmosphere as it crackled cheerfully, casting flashes of golden light on the wooden beams. The buzz of conversation from the common room contributed to the lively environment, a stark contrast to the serene quiet of Drownshire Manor.

“My Lord and Ladies,” the innkeeper greeted them heartily as they headed up the stairs, “I am pleased to have you here. Your rooms are ready upstairs. If you need anything else, just call out!” He was a robust man with a ruddy face and a wide grin.

“This should suffice; it is, after all, only one night,” Lady Prudence remarked with a tight face as she examined their chambers with a discerning eye. “Let us pray we get a decent night’s rest before proceeding to the Fyre estate in the morning.”

The sisters began unpacking in their shared room immediately while their parents retreated to their own room. Marian eyed the small room, noting how it was simple but clean. The room consisted of a small fireplace to warm up and three small beds with mattresses and thick covers as well as a small desk in the corner.

It was Jane who broke the silence first, her voice rising with panic. “Has anyone of you seen my glove? It was here just a moment ago. I am sure of it!” Her movements grew increasingly frantic as she feverishly combed through her possessions.

As she sat by the window, Diana let out a sigh, her book cradled in her lap. “Perhaps it slipped your fingers as you arrived. Really, Jane, you ought to be more careful.”

Jane shot back with impressive speed. “Iamcareful,”

“It is just a glove.” Diana said, rolling her eyes at her twin’s dramatics.

“It isnotjust a glove; it is my favorite one!” Jane wailed. “I cannot attend the party with only one glove!” Her face flushed as she shot a hopeless look at Marian. “Have you seen it?”

Marian calmly shook her head in disagreement. “No, but I will help you find it. Stay here; I will be back soon.”

Jane’s gaze darted toward the door, doubt flickering across her face. “Are you sure? It will certainly be dark outside, and…”

“Be cautious, Marian,” Diana said, finishing her sister’s sentence. “We do not know the types of people who are lodging here.”

Marian gave a reassuring smile. “I will be just fine.” She wrapped her shawl snugly around her shoulders, the fabric’s weight providing a comforting shield against the evening’s chill. Entering the corridor, the gentle radiance of the lanterns created elongated shadows on the walls, their wavering light directing her movements as she went down the staircase. The wooden stairs groaned softly beneath her feet, each noise heightened by the stillness that enveloped her.

The pale lights from the low-hanging lanterns scarcely illuminated the gravel pathway as Marian’s eyes darted across her surroundings. There was something about the stillness that made her straighten her spine and quicken her pace. This was not the time to entertain idle fears. She made her way toward the ancient oak tree guarding the front door to the inn, and there, she caught sight of something that seemed out of place. She quickly walked toward it and knelt, reaching down. Marian felt the cool, familiar leather of the lost glove between her fingertips and sighed in relief. Though her mother was apprehensive about staying at the inn for one night before continuing on to her sister’s estate, Marian found it refreshing. It stirred something deep within her — a sense of restlessness, a yearning for adventure.

She straightened, her smile one of triumph as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “Ah, there you are,” she murmured, her voice barely louder than the whisper of the breeze around her. Her relief was short-lived as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision, sending a ripple of danger down her spine. She turned sharply, her heart thundering in her chest as a tall figure emerged from the shadows, his silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of the lanterns. Marian’s smug smile vanished as the dark figure moved forward, the weak light showing just enough to define his tall body and the confident set of his broad shoulders.

“A lady wandering alone in the dark. Even I have to admit, that is rather bold.”

He stepped forward, and Marian’s breath caught in her throat. He was tall — easily a whole head taller than her — and his strikingly blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light.

“It seems I should pay better attention to my surroundings,” Marian replied, her tone carefully composed, despite the anxiety coursing through her veins.

“That much is clear,” he said lightly, his gaze lingering on her face a moment too long.

She straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her skirts. “I merely dropped something upon my arrival, My Lord,” she said, noticing his perfectly tailored coat that spoke of fine breeding. “Since I have managed to find it, I shall return to my chambers.”

The man moved closer still, and the scent of sandalwood and leather wafted from him, disarming her slightly. His eyes, glinting with interest, never left hers. “You should take better care to not place yourself in such dangerous situations, My Lady.”

Marian scoffed lightly, taking a step back. “I was not aware that the art of glove retrieval could become so treacherous.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but there was an edge to him, a hint of something unruly in the curve of his lips. “It usually is not — unless, of course, there is someone lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.”

“If something as simple as retrieving a lost glove requires a chaperone, I shudder to think what perils await me in the ballroom.”

He chuckled at her wit. “That might be true, but one might question the wisdom of wandering around unattended when one could so easily run into a scoundrel around these parts.”

Marian tilted her chin upward, the smallest flicker of defiance in her gaze. “Well, then I must consider myself fortunate to have run into a gentleman instead,” she said, her voice cool despite the strange flutter in her stomach. She had no intention of allowing this stranger to unnerve her, no matter how unnervingly attractive he might be.

“A gentleman?” He laughed then, low and surprisingly warm, a sound that caught her off guard. “How generous of you to assume that I am one, My Lady.”

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