Page 49 of Marquess of Stone

“Nicholas-” Marian began, suddenly uncertain what she wished to say, only knowing that the careful distance in his tone caused a sharp pain beneath her ribs.

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice softening fractionally. “There is no need for further discussion. You have made your position clear, and I respect your decision.”

Marian hesitated, torn between the desire to explain herself more fully and the fear that any additional words would only deepen the chasm growing between them. Before she could decide, Nicholas continued, his tone once more coolly correct, the brief moment of vulnerability gone as if it had never existed.

“I should inform you that I have made arrangements for you to stay with my sister, should you wish it, rather than being sent to your aunt in Bath. Amelia is a respectable widow whose household is beyond reproach, and she resides far enough from London to give society time to turn its attention elsewhere. Your parents have agreed to the arrangement.”

The information, delivered with such calm practicality after the emotional tension of their previous exchange, momentarily silenced Marian. Even in rejection, he had thought of her welfare, had used his influence to provide her an alternative to the dreaded exile with her strict aunt.

“That is... most kind,” she managed finally, uncertain how to respond to this unexpected consideration.

“It is merely practical,” Nicholas countered, the words falling between them like small, sharp stones. "Amelia has been lonely since her husband’s passing. Your company would benefit her as much as her patronage would benefit you.”

Practical. Again, that cold word that defined his approach to all things, including her. Marian felt sudden tears threatening and blinked rapidly to dispel them, unwilling to add the indignity of weeping to this already painful encounter.

“Please convey my gratitude to your sister for her generosity,” she said, proud of how steady her voice remained. “I shall consider her offer carefully.”

Nicholas nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement that suggested the conclusion of a business transaction rather than a conversation between two people who had shared intimacies both physical and emotional. “I wish you good day, then,” he said, the formal farewell emphasizing the distance that had reasserted itself between them.

“Good day, Lord Stone," Marian replied, deliberately using his title to acknowledge the barrier that had risen – one partially of her own creation, yet no less painful for that fact.

He turned and walked away, his tall figure moving with the same measured grace that had first caught her attention that night at the inn, when he had teased her about being outside alone and she had felt not fear but a strange, exhilarating awareness. Now she watched him go, each step carrying him further from the brief, bright connection they had shared during those stolen adventures.

Only when he had disappeared around the curve in the path did Marian allow a single tear to trace its way down her cheek, a silent acknowledgment of what might have been if only he had offered his heart along with his hand.

CHAPTER 14

“To hell with propriety, to hell with expectations, and to hell with the entire blasted institution of marriage,” Nicholas muttered, his voice rough as he lifted the crystal decanter and sloshed a generous amount of amber liquid into his glass for the fifth — or perhaps the sixth — time that evening.

His study at Stone House lay in shadowed disarray, a physical manifestation of its master’s inner turmoil.

A firm knock at the door interrupted his solitary brooding. Nicholas ignored it, taking another defiant swallow of brandy instead. The knock came again, more insistent this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door opening without his permission.

“I see you have decided to drown your sorrows rather thoroughly, old friend,” observed a familiar voice, the dry tone carrying equal parts concern and amusement. “How very predictable of you.”

Nicholas did not bother turning toward the doorway. “I do not recall inviting you, Blacknight.”

Elias crossed the threshold with the confidence that came with years of friendship. “When has that ever stopped me?” Elias countered, pausing to assess the state of both the room and its occupant before walking to the window and thrusting open the heavy velvet curtains.

Nicholas flinched as the too-bright light assaulted his eyes, raising one hand to shield them from the sudden, unpleasant sensation. “Damn you,” he growled though without any genuine heat.

“The burden to save you from yourself has to fall on someone’s shoulders,” Elias replied mildly, moving to stoke the fire back to life. The poker scraped against iron as he shifted the coals, sending spark spiraling upward like displaced fireflies. “Though I must admit, even for you, this is rather dramatic. One might actually believe you were genuinely affected.”

“If you have come to merely offer commentary, you may see yourself out the same way you came in.”

Elias remained unperturbed, settling himself into the chair opposite Nicholas with the casual grace of a man completely at ease in his surroundings. He reached for the decanter, examining its depleted contents with a raised eyebrow before helping himself to what little remained.

“Lydia sends her regards,” he said conversationally, as if they were meeting for a pleasant social call rather than him intruding on what had clearly been intended as a private descent into misery. “She is concerned for you.”

“Unnecessary,” Nicholas replied softly, his fingers tightening around the brim of his glass.

“Is it?” Elias leaned forward, firelight casting his features into sharp relief. “Three days without word, declining all invitations, sending your man around with transparent excuses… one might almost think you were avoiding us.”

Nicholas drained his glass in lieu of responding, the burn of alcohol a welcome distraction from the knowing look in his friend’s eyes. The silence stretched taut between them, broken only by the renewed crackling of the fire and the distant ticking of the mantel clock counting away seconds with merciless precision.

“I take it things did not go as planned with my sister-in-law then,” Elias observed.

Nicholas found himself grateful that his friend had chosen to not use her name, but the reminder sent a jolt through his body like a live current of electricity. He set his empty glass down with more force than necessary, the crystal making a sharp sound against the solid mahogany table.

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