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She didn’t mention that asking about his upbringing was what had provoked his foul temper last night.

“You look red, Marianne. Why are you blushing?” Wilhelmina demanded, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I am not.” Marianne might have been more emphatic than she had intended.

“You are. Your cheeks turned pink,” Daphne said cheerfully.

“Red,” Wilhelmina insisted. “I suspect the Duke isn’t so reserved with our dear sister.”

“What do you mean?” Victoria asked, narrowing her eyes at her eldest sister.

“Eat your tarts. Cook can make more later during the day,” Marianne urged, trying to change the topic.

The girls simply stared at her, eager for an explanation about her husband’s behavior.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats drew their attention, much to her relief.

Like a knight in shining armor rescuing her from scrutiny, a lone rider appeared on the horizon. Marianne’s gaze rose justas Dominic approached on horseback, a striking figure etched against the fading light.

He wore no coat, his shirt open at the collar and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The breeze teased the linen, tracing the lines of his lean, defined chest. There was a raw, effortless grace to him. He didn’t just ride the horse; he belonged to the saddle, as if he were born to command both beast and land.

Marianne’s breath caught, her heart quickening at the sight. At that moment, the man who had seemed so distant and guarded revealed a side she hadn’t seen before—strong, alive, and unmistakably his own.

She could not control the way her breath caught at the sight. Her hand was around her throat, though she could have easily felt her pulse thrumming against it even without doing so.

Wilhelmina seemed to find it amusing. She leaned toward her and whispered, “So, under all that brooding, my brother-in-law can be handsome if he wants to be.”

“Mina, no.”

“Like Byron,” Wilhelmina quipped.

“That’s ridiculous,” Victoria complained. “You’re all ridiculous. Anyway, being like Byron is not a compliment we want to hear.”

“I agree,” Marianne murmured, her eyes still on her husband.

Dominic glanced their way, but he did not slow down. He continued at the same pace. He gave them a brief nod, then urged his horse to speed up until he disappeared beyond the hill.

“Still a curmudgeon,” Victoria declared.

Marianne reached for a glass of lemonade to cool herself.

“He saw you, though,” Victoria teased.

“I wonder if he was able to see how red she was from that distance,” Wilhelmina added.

“Oh hush, you two!”

She could not even feel mad at her sisters.

Soon, the girls were packed and ready to go home. The weekend passed by so quickly—much quicker than Marianne would have liked. Her heart ached as she saw the trunks strapped to the back of the carriage.

Their governess, Miss Clara Aldridge, seemed to have reenergized herself when she got a break from the girls. She was efficient in her supervision of both the loading and the girls’ preparations.

Marianne stood a few feet away, her hands folded in front of her. She was trying her utmost not to show her dread. She was already missing them, even though they were still on the estate.

“I don’t want to leave you, Marianne,” Daphne cried, hugging her sister’s side. “Can I stay here with you?”

“You’ll visit me again soon,” Marianne promised.