Page 80 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
His eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his voice low and firm. “And whatisgoing on here?”
“That our marriage is merely a business arrangement.” She met his gaze squarely. “A fashionable arrangement, it seems.”
His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Dear Marianne, wehavea deal. I doubt you want me to send you back to your father.”
Her jaw clenched, suspicion creeping in. Perhaps he was more like her father than she had initially thought. Her silence answered his question. Yet, instead of triumph, something else—something fleeting and unreadable—flashed in his eyes.
“Silence? Is that all you have for me, little doe?” His smirk was reminiscent of their first meeting, sharp and maddening. “Well, I have business in London anyway. I will be going with you.”
“There’s no need to chaperone me,” she protested. “I won’t do anything to tarnish your honor.”
“I’m not chaperoning you. You’re my wife, and it’s my duty.”
“Ah. So, should I be grateful? Is this about protecting me? Physically? Or from gossip?” she teased, bold despite herself.
“That wasn’t what I meant.” His tone turned slightly mocking, but she suspected the words weren’t meant for her. “It’s a break from your menagerie. I can’t wait to tell my friends I’m running a zoo at Oakmere Hall.”
She met his gaze defiantly. “Iambringing Serafina.”
He groaned. “What for? To discourage me from going?”
“Serafina is my cat. I won’t leave her behind.”
“Then why not bring Perseus?” he pressed, pushing back from the desk, exasperated.
“Because he’s a goat,” she said with a smirk, almost like Victoria. “That would be harder to explain.”
Dominic let out a deep groan of surrender. “Fine. You may bring Serafina.”
“Thank you. If you’re going to force yourself along, I should at least have a companion.”
“I’m not your chaperone; I’m your husband. Serafina’s your cat—maybe a child or a toy, but not a companion.”
“Thank you for clarifying, Dominic.” Her grin widened, and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
She moved to leave but then paused at the door.
“Why is the west wing closed? Are there monsters hiding there we should watch for?”
His eyes flashed with anger. Then, with a sigh, he turned away, refusing to answer.
She offered one last, quiet olive branch. “You know… if you ever need a listening ear, I’m here. You might be surprised by how much I can understand.”
Dominic said nothing, burying himself in his ledger, the ink stains and crumpled papers betraying his otherwise precise nature.
Marianne left the study, her mission done. The thought of hours in the carriage with her husband stirred a strange, unwelcome thrill inside her.
She would never view that carriage the same way again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Thank you for coming with me, Marianne,” Elizabeth said as the two of them wandered through the garden.
Gentlemen played pall mall in the distance, and Dominic was among them, composed as ever while conversing with their father.
“It’s my pleasure, Lizzie. I’ve missed you,” Marianne replied truthfully.
There was little waiting for her at Oakmere Hall—only the lonely game of hide-and-seek with her husband.
