Page 57 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Marianne seized the moment. “Speaking of mysteries—have you seen the new garden roses? They’re quite the sight.”
Wilhelmina groaned but laughed. “Fine. For now, the roses it is. But the night? We’ll revisit that soon.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
Marianne caught Wilhelmina’s gaze and wondered if her sister could see past her calm exterior, if she could guess the whirlwind of thoughts she was trying to keep at bay.
“Is he always so… cold?” Wilhelmina asked softly, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “So proper, so distant?”
Marianne hesitated before answering. “No. Not always. It’s just… Like I said, we’re both still adjusting—to the marriage, to each other.”
The words felt true, even if only partly.
“Adjusting, huh?” Wilhelmina flashed a knowing smirk. “Well, I suppose it must be quite the change. You love all creatures, great and small, and yet you met him at a stag hunt. And he’s a business partner of our dear, old father.”
Sarcasm dripped from her words like venom.
“He’s nothing like Father,” Marianne said sharply, surprised to find herself defending her husband.
She didn’t fully understand why. They barely knew one another. One afternoon spent shopping in the village wasn’t enough to change that.
Not yet, anyway.
Dominic joined Marianne and her sisters for dinner. At first, the room was quiet—the way he preferred it. After all, he had often complained about the noise Serafina and Perseus had broughtto Oakmere Hall. But tonight, the silence felt different, like a restless itch just beneath the surface. It was beginning to wear on him.
During their earlier shopping trip, Dominic ended up buying gifts for his wife’s sisters. He didn’t mind spending the money—he had more than enough and little else to spend it on.
Marianne, meanwhile, hadn’t yet ordered anything new for the estate or herself. She seemed content to rummage through old closets and dusty boxes rather than ask Mrs. Alderwick to prepare a shopping list.
For a while, Marianne and Wilhelmina slipped into a quiet conversation, their voices low and tentative. But soon the room fell silent again.
“Are you always this quiet?” Victoria’s voice broke the stillness, sharp and unfiltered.
Dominic wasn’t sure what to make of the girl. She was young—too young, perhaps—and impulsive, considering the girl had fled into a forest with armed men, back when Dominic had first encountered his wife. He disliked how talkative Marianne’s little sister was. Yet, if not for her reckless streak, he might never have taken the time to get to know his wife’s family.
Whether it improved his life remained uncertain.
“Well,” he replied, his voice steady but not unkind, “there are more important things to do than chatter endlessly.”
Victoria flinched, and Dominic immediately regretted the sharpness of his voice. He pressed his lips together and resolved to keep quiet. The girl would tire herself out, eventually.
But she didn’t.
“Are you fine with us being here?” she asked, peering at him over a half-full glass of water.
“Yes.”
“Can we stay longer than just a weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Would you have bought me that brooch if I weren’t Marianne’s sister?”
“No.”
“Can I ride a pony tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
