Page 107 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Elizabeth hugged her tightly. Marianne could feel her sister’s tears dripping on her shoulders.
“Are you all right, Marianne?” Elizabeth asked, still sobbing softly. “How can anybody want to hurt you?”
“I am fine, Elizabeth,” Marianne reassured her. “I am no longer hurt.”
It was a lie. Her hips still hurt, and her bruises stung. However, she did not want to come home simply to worry her sisters.
They heard running footsteps. Then, a flurry of silk and lace burst into the study in the form of their younger sisters. They rushed to Marianne, looking distraught.
“What happened to you? We heard that you were here! Why didn’t you go straight to see us upstairs?” Daphne cried while Wilhelmina rubbed her back soothingly.
“I am fine,” seemed to be Marianne’s new refrain.
“Don’t lie, Marianne!” Victoria scoffed. “We heard you bravely tell Father that Linpool had hurt you. By the looks of it, he tried to kill you!”
“You heard all of that?” Marianne gasped, not knowing whether to be proud or angry. “You should not eavesdrop when the adults are conversing, Victoria!”
Daphne cried harder when she heard what her twin had to say, while Wilhelmina looked quietly horrified.
“Look at me, Daphne. I am safe. I am here with you. And as always, I won’t let anything happen to any of you. I hope you understand me.”
Marianne’s thoughts went to Linpool again. She wondered if his thinly veiled threats had made things worse for her and the people she loved.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Being in the gentlemen’s club was supposed to make Dominic feel better. After all, it was the whole atmosphere that had called to him before. Not the people. Except for Simon.
“Well, we meet again,” he told his brandy as he swirled his glass.
He let his eyes be distracted by the scent of aged leather and the best cigars. The place also typically smelled of brandy, like the one he was sniffing heartily. However, he knew that the comfort he found here was temporary.
At the moment, he sat alone, resting his back on a high-back leather armchair. He chose the one close to the fireplace not because he was feeling cold, but because his mind needed something to distract it from memories of his argument with Marianne.
He took a long sip of brandy, hoping the warmth of the amber liquid would help the fireplace dull some of the ache in his chest. He was not supposed to feel anything.
It was his fault, wasn’t it? He attended that stag hunt to solidify business deals, which he might have sealed with sheer skill, anyway. He suspected—no, knew—that Lord Grisham wanted him to marry one of his daughters. Then, he choseher.
There was nothing wrong with Marianne. None at all. The problem was that she was perfect for him, and it gave Linpool ammunition. He was telling the truth when he said that she was his weakness.
No, she was not weak. Shemadehim weak.
But words? He didn’t say them well. Therefore, he needed a place where he could just sit and ponder.
But some things just were not meant to be.
“Dominic!” someone shouted, roughly interrupting his reverie.
He groaned when he looked up to see Lord Pembroke approaching. The man, about his age, seemed younger with his ruddy face and broad grin. However, he was also known for being loud. He also loved hunting tales—something he thought he and Dominic had in common.
“I have not seen you here for a while,” Pembroke remarked.
“I’ve been here. Sometimes. You weren’t here,” Dominic mumbled vaguely, gesturing with his snifter.
“Ah. Never mind, then. We can make up for lost time. What say you join us this weekend? We have planned a hunt. The hounds have been prepared and are plenty eager. We also heard that there would be plenty of game.”
“Not this time,” Dominic replied with a tight smile.
Pembroke huffed and raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with a sarcastic smile. Dominic did not like how the man looked him up and down.
