Page 18 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
“The real tragedy would be you lamenting them continuously, dear wife,” Simon said lightly.
The Earl and Countess had managed to brighten the mood at their end of the table, and soon Dominic was left in peace. He remained quiet, occasionally casting glances at Lady Marianne.
There seemed to be some sort of argument at her end of the table, followed by laughter, while she maintained her composure.
What is it with this crowd?
When Lady Marianne eventually left the room, he waited a few minutes before following. She was deep in conversation with a young woman—probably her sister.
Just how many daughters does Grisham have?
Suddenly, Dominic felt an urge he couldn’t ignore. It was reckless, a step he wouldn’t usually take, but he moved without thinking.
He passed behind Lady Marianne, his arm brushing hers—barely a touch, more fabric against fabric. It would have looked accidental to anyone who might have seen, but he knew better.
However, the effect was unmistakable. He felt it—and he was certain she did too. She stiffened, gasping softly.
For a moment, he felt like he was walking beside a fire, the heat from that brief touch searing him. He didn’t pause. He didn’t turn. His pulse pounded in his ears, his calm exterior a mask for the madness roiling inside him.
How could this woman make him react like this?
He hadn’t meant to touch her—not really, at least. But now, a few feet away, he could still feel the weight of the moment.
He glanced back, but she wasn’t looking at him. He waited, knowing she felt it too.
Then, their eyes met, and for an instant, he felt what it must be like to drown.
Chapter Nine
“What is it?” Marianne asked Elizabeth, who was gaping at her.
Could her sister hear her rapid heartbeat?
Marianne had felt a jolt. It had made her breath catch in her throat.
The sensation was so quick that it could well be her imagination. Something brushed against her—just a fleeting touch, more the rustling of fabrics than actual contact, but it sent a tingle across her skin. That feeling intensified when she glanced back and their eyes locked.
It was him. How had she not noticed him in the dining room? Of course, she had been too consumed by the insults flung at her and her sisters.
But that look… it wasn’t just a casual acknowledgment of their brief encounter. It wasn’t out of politeness. No, it was something else—sharp, loaded with an unspoken tension. It felt like the first breath of a storm, quietly gathering strength between them.
Then, without a word, he turned and left.
“Nothing,” Elizabeth replied uncertainly, after a moment’s hesitation. “You just look a little flushed.”
“I, uh, feel a little warm,” Marianne murmured. “Must be the food and, uh, the incident at dinner.”
Elizabeth didn’t look convinced, raising an eyebrow.
After the puzzling interaction with the Duke, Marianne attempted to return to the party. She wanted to be more agreeable this time, for the sake of her sisters. She tried to relax, letting the conversation flow around her—one that didn’t involve her, of course.
People had gathered closer to the hearth to escape the growing chill. Elizabeth must have been wondering how she had felt so warm earlier.
Despite her feelings toward her father, Marianne couldn’t help but appreciate the quartet he had arranged in the corner, playing soft, almost lullaby-like music.
Then, a shriek cut through her thoughts, sharp and sudden. Instinct had her sitting up straight. The rest of the room turned toward the source of the cry.
“Get it off me!” the woman cried again. “Get this filthy creature off me now!”
