Page 12 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Guests turned to look at Dominic, a few applauding in a polite but tepid show of approval. Some of the ladies joined in, their applause muffled by delicate gloves as if the sound itself was too unladylike for the occasion.
Dominic could feel their gazes on him—some bold, some lingering, all with a hint of curiosity that made his skin itch.
He despised this part. The crowd, the praise—it all felt foreign, like a mask that didn’t fit him. He had come for the hunt, not for the empty congratulations of Society. He didn’t want their approval for slaying a creature, especially one he hadn’t even thought twice about until now.
Wait.
He paused, a flicker of a thought unsettling him.
Was he starting to think like her? Like Marianne?
Her words, her defiance, her belief in the worth of the creature he’d killed—it was enough to make him question everything about the hunt.
But no, that was absurd. He was a hunter. He’d always been a hunter. This wasn’t about ideals or sentiment.
Still, the feeling lingered, and it irritated him more than he cared to admit.
“Pray, Your Grace,” one lord called, his voice laced with genuine curiosity, “how do you manage to excel so effortlessly in the hunt? That stag seemed to elude most of us.”
“Practice,” Dominic replied dully, giving the gentleman a look.
Chuckles rang out in response, but Dominic had not been jesting. He could never fathom how thetoncarried on, yet he endured these interactions for the sake of business.
His gaze swept over the ladies in the parlor. Marianne was not among them.
“Is that the face you make when people praise you?” Simon asked, raising an eyebrow. “Look alive, man! Try smiling—I hear it’s all the rage. Or at least less frightening than a bear trap.”
Still, Dominic would not reply. So, Simon seemed to feel it necessary to follow his gaze.
“You’re searching for someone, aren’t you?” he asked, his face splitting into a big grin.
“No.”
“Liar.”
Dominic continued to ignore him. His eyes idly scanned the guests again to no avail.
“Ah. I know what this is. Our mysterious vixen has gotten under your skin,” Simon murmured, ending his statement with a dramatic sigh.
“Has anyone told you that you talk too much?” Dominic finally broke his silence.
“Yes, you have. Several times.” Simon did not look repentant at all. “I also know that I’m right. You’ve been looking for that woman.”
Dominic left his friend behind, needing space to gather his thoughts.
He made his way to the stables, where the familiar scent of hay and earth offered a rare comfort. It was a strange refuge. After all, not long ago, he had taken the life of an animal. Yet, something about the stables calmed him, as though he could hide in this place, where the world’s complexities felt far away.
But why was he unsettled? He had hunted countless times before without a second thought. So why did the kill today leave an unfamiliar sting?
“You’re trembling. Do you know what that does to a hunter?”
He had never intended to engage in small talk, and yet, in her presence, it had slipped past his lips. She had caught him off guard, and he hated it. He wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, especially not to someone like her.
He exhaled sharply, trying to clear his mind. He was here at Grisham Manor for business, after all. To meet people, to secure contracts. That was the purpose of his visit, nothing more.
But Marianne… She had rattled something deep within him. Simon had been right—hewasrattled. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had flung herself between him and the stag without a moment’s hesitation.
Selfless. Unafraid. Unyielding.
