Page 37 of Marquess of Stone

“Cautious?” Lydia appeared at her husband’s elbow, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth. “I have seen less obvious sieges in military campaigns.”

Elias chuckled at his wife’s clever remark. “My dear,” he chided gently, “do not try to encourage him, in either direction.”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that?” Lydia’s smile turned impish. “Besides, someone needs to move this particular chess game along. The players are remarkably stubborn about advancing their pieces. Not a single match has been made during our gathering.”

Nicholas fixed them both with a quelling look. “I was not aware that my personal matters had become a source of entertainment for the entire household.”

“Not theentirehousehold,” Lydia corrected cheerfully. “Just those of us with functioning eyes and a romantic sensibility. Though, I must say, for a man renowned for his business acumen, you are being remarkably slow to recognize a profitable venture.”

“Marriage is hardly what I would call a business transaction,” Nicholas replied stiffly.

“However,” Lydia continued, glancing between them and her sister, “some games of chess seem more intriguing than others. Particularly when both players seem so determined to sacrifice their queens rather than risk their kings.”

“Dearest,” Elias warned though his eyes held only amusement, “do remember that not everyone shares your enthusiasm for… strategic analysis.”

“On the contrary,” Nicholas replied coolly, “your wife’s talent for metaphor is quite remarkable. Though perhaps she might do better to find a more worthy subject for her observations?”

Lydia chuckled. “Oh, but what could be more worthy than watching two people determinedly ignore what is right in front of them?”

“Would you two give it a rest?” Elias said dryly.

“You are right, dear husband, we should let them sort it out themselves. But I fear at this rate, we will all be grey-haired before either makes a decisive move.” She shot a mischievous smile at her husband. “Dearest, will you come help me with the seating arrangements?” Lydia prodded.

“I shall be there momentarily, darling.” Elias said, pressing a kiss on Lydia’s cheek before she scurried off.

Before Nicholas could formulate a suitably cutting response, a flutter of activity near the entrance drew their attention. Servants were busy arranging flowers and moving furniture, transforming the already elegant space into something even more magnificent.

“The farewell ball,” Elias explained, though Nicholas hadn’t asked. “Lydia has been planning it for weeks. Every eligible bachelor in the county can be counted on to attend.”

The thought sat like lead in Nicholas’s stomach. “How… delightful.”

“Indeed. Though I suspect you will find it less so when they all start asking Lady Marian to dance.”

As if manifested by Elias’s words, the Duke of Myste chose that moment to approach Marian where she sat with her sister. Nicholas watched while something hot and unpleasant coiled up in his chest, just as the Duke executed a perfect bow.

“Lady Marian,” the Duke’s voice carried across the garden with practiced ease, “might I secure your first dance for this evening’s ball?”

Nicholas tried his best to convince himself that the tightness in his chest was merely out of concern for her welfare. After all, hadn’t he been the one to push her away? Hadn’t he been the one to make it clear that whatever had sparked between them in his chambers was nothing more than the act of ticking things off her list and that it was better left unexplored?

But watching her smile up at the Duke — that same bright, genuine smile he had come to think of as his — made him question every carefully reasoned argument his mind could have constructed.

“I would be honored, Your Grace,” Marian’s voice was warm and true, lacking the usual edge of steel she usually employed with unwanted suitors.

“Hmmm. The Duke of Myste,” Elias mused beside him. “A rather impressive catch for the Lady, would not you say? Titled, wealthy, intelligent enough to appreciate our Marian’s wit beneath the biting words…”

“Our Marian?” Nicholas cut in, perhaps more sharply than necessary.

“Ah, so youdostill have a voice. I was beginning to wonder. Especially given how you’ve been silently brooding for the better part of the past hour.

“I do not brood.” Nicholas said dryly.

“No?” Elias’s smile was infuriating in its knowing sympathy. “Then what, pray tell, would you call this masterful display of silent suffering you have been treating us all to?”

“Strategic observation.”

“Of course. How foolish of me to mistake your careful surveillance of my sister-in-law’s every movement for something as common as jealousy.”

Nicholas turned to deliver what he had hoped would be a suitably quelling response, only to find Marian had moved closer. She stood closer than he expected, apparently on her way to the library. Their eyes met, and for a fraction of a moment, the carefully constructed walls between them vanished into thin air, wavering like a heat shimmer on a summer’s day.

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