Page 82 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Thankfully, Lady Adelaide and Miss Farwell made themselves scarce soon after.
“You know you’re better than them, right?” Elizabeth murmured beside her, so quietly that Marianne nearly jumped.
“Of course, my dear,” she said with a grin. “But promise me—no matter how desperate things seem, don’t ever behave like those two.”
“You think I would?” Elizabeth asked in mock outrage.
Ah, there she was—Lizzie, cheeky and warm. Marianne could see her sister starting to relax, her shoulders no longer stiff with tension. She’d noticed the admiring glances being sent Elizabeth’s way, but of course, her sister hadn’t.
As the sun began to set over Lord and Lady Denham’s estate, guests lingered. The garden remained lively, laughter carrying through the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and soft music.
Even Marianne felt herself relaxing. Despite their encounter with Lady Adelaide and Miss Farwell, her mood had brightened. The music pleased her for once, the ambiance even more so. Gas lamps and fireflies cast a gentle, golden light that transformed the garden into something almost magical.
She and Elizabeth made their way to the fountain, enjoying a rare moment of peace—away from their father, away from anyone who would demand something of them.
Marianne drew in a deep breath, the scent of roses filling her lungs. A butterfly fluttered past her, delicate and aimless. It reminded her of Oakmere Hall and its quiet grace.
She was fortunate, she reminded herself. Not every married woman had the freedom she did. She could make her own decisions. She did not have to fear Dominic, even though he fancied himself a hunter.
“You’re suddenly awfully quiet,” Elizabeth remarked, her gaze drifting to the dancers moving among the flower bushes. “You usually have so many questions when we’re together—or at least a sharp comment about someone.”
“I am a little tired,” Marianne admitted, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Merely observing tonight. Oakmere Hall isn’t exactly teeming with excitement.”
“Oh. Are you bored there?” Elizabeth asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“No, no. It’s the closest I can get to nature without anyone commenting on my preferences. I have Serafina and Perseus. And the servants don’t frown when I ask for meatless meals. Cook even enjoys the challenge.”
Marianne’s smile faded slightly as she reflected on her easy life at Oakmere Hall—a life her sisters did not share under their father’s roof.
That was why she was here, wasn’t it? To see Elizabeth, anxious at the thought of going more than a fortnight without her.
“It’s a good thing I’m here to do the talking, then,” Elizabeth said, chuckling.
She was far from talkative, so the remark amused them both. She swayed lightly in her gown, and Marianne found herself quietly marveling at her sister’s poise.
Elizabeth always looked effortlessly graceful. Any man would be lucky to have her—if only their father would let her choose a suitor, rather than pushing her toward the next man with a title and fortune.
Marianne was about to comment when a smooth voice interrupted them, silken and rich with self-assurance. “Your Grace. Lady Elizabeth.”
The man’s charm radiated from the sound alone. He was, in short, the opposite of her husband, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Augustus Mullens, the Viscount Linpool, bowed with an exaggerated flourish.
Marianne nearly laughed. He was such a character, one she had finally identified through idle chatter and veiled curiosity.
“Lord Linpool,” she murmured politely. “How do you do?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you. Better now, in fact, surrounded by such beauty set against a spring garden. Tell me, what could be lovelier?”
She wasn’t used to being admired so openly. Her husband was… complicated. The Viscount, however, was generous with his attentions, letting his gaze linger on her and her sister with unapologetic admiration.
“Are you truly asking us that, my lord, or merely offering another charming line?” she asked, her smile unmistakably amused—and direct.
“Your Grace, your wit matches your beauty. That deserves my full attention,” Linpool replied, tossing his head in a way that sent a stray lock of hair neatly back into place.
Both sisters gaped at him, though for different reasons. Linpool, perhaps in his early forties, moved and spoke with the flair of a man half his age. Still, he managed to charm even Elizabeth, who typically avoided flirtations of any sort.
“You may have succeeded with my sister, my lord,” Elizabeth said, uncharacteristic mischief in her eyes. “It’s rare for any man to do so.”
