Page 69 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Two flustered footmen scrambled after the goat, one clutching a rope as if preparing for battle. One nearly tripped over a spade, his balance no match for Perseus’s cunning.
The housekeeper hurried over to Marianne, brushing dirt off her skirts with a look of exhausted desperation. Apparently, the war on Perseus had thrown the entire staff into disarray.
“We’re glad you’re here, Your Grace,” she panted. “He’s been terrorizing the gardens all morning!”
Marianne arched an eyebrow. “Your statement makes him sound like some fearsome warlord.”
The housekeeper nodded gravely. “He’s chewed every last sprig of lavender.”
Marianne’s mouth dropped open. “All of it?”
“All. Of. It.”
She sighed. Her day had been a whirlwind of emotions—annoyance, desire, confusion—and a pinch of shame she couldn’t quite shake, though she didn’t regret what had happened with Dominic.
She approached Perseus cautiously. “Come here, Perseus. We talked about this—no pillaging, no reckless rampages.”
She wasn’t sure how much he understood. She remembered the day she had brought him to Oakmere. She had done it to annoy Dominic, in part. But mainly, she had brought him because she loved the stubborn, little goat.
Perseus tilted his head, bleating loudly as if to say,Talk all you want. I’m the master here.
“Ah, so nothing I say means a thing to you?” Marianne huffed.
Instead of stopping, Perseus flicked his tail, tossed his carrot trophy aside, and darted toward the rose bushes.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Marianne hissed, hiking up her skirts as she gave chase.
“Is Her Grace actually chasing the goat?” one servant called out, amused and incredulous.
“Oh yes,” another replied with a grin. “And at quite the clip, too.”
“Husband and wife, both hunters in their own way,” a third observed.
“True,” the second said. “Though I doubt Her Grace plans to turn Perseus into dinner, no matter how much of a menace he is.”
Marianne finally caught up to Perseus, who gave one last bleat of defiance before she managed to corral him. She ignored the lingering chuckles of the servants behind her, focused solely on containing her willful, little warlord—for now.
As she steadied the goat, her mind drifted back to the heat of the carriage—the harsh kiss, the fierce possession in Dominic’s touch, and the way her body had betrayed her stubborn heart.
For all her protests, there was something undeniable in their fire, something that unsettled and intrigued her in equal measure.
She straightened, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. The battles of the day were far from over, but whatever chaos awaited, she would face it—because, whether she liked it or not, she wanted Dominic as much as he claimed to want her.
With Perseus finally subdued, Marianne turned toward the house, the wild disorder in the garden a strange mirror to the tangled emotions roiling inside her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I’m losing my mind,” Dominic muttered to the dogs as he left the stables early.
The mist still clung to the trees, and the air was crisp and sharp, the sun nothing more than a pale whisper on the horizon.
When he mounted his horse, Beowulf ran alongside him, eager and restless, while Achilles followed at a slower, measured pace—the steady guardian he always was.
It was rarely humid in this part of England, but this morning, the air felt thick, clinging to his skin—and that suited his mood perfectly.
Something else clung to him, too—an invisible weight he desperately wanted to shake off. He wanted distance from the house, from Perseus’s chaos, and most of all, from her.
“I have to get away from her,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. “Because I can’t think straight when she’s near.”
