Page 96 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
He shrugged once like it didn’t matter, but his shoulders were stiff with old pain.
“I don’t tell people this,” he said roughly. “I haven’t even said it out loud until now. That is why I had the west wing closed off. It was where my mother stayed. I thought by locking it up, I wouldn’t have to deal with the anger and the shame that comes with her memory.”
Marianne leaned forward, placing a hand gently on his arm. “Thank you. For trusting me with it.”
He nodded, swallowing hard.
A moment passed before she spoke again, her voice thoughtful. “Elizabeth must know. About Linpool’s… activities.”
He met her gaze. “Yes. I don’t know what he wants from her, but if he’s anything like he was… he’ll only leave ruin behind.”
Marianne’s expression turned solemn. Her fingers gripped the reins tighter. “I have to tell her.”
“Marianne—”
“I know,” she interrupted softly. “It won’t be easy. Especially with Father watching her every move. But I have to. She needs to know what he’s capable of.”
Dominic studied her for a long moment. The determination in her voice. The steadiness in her eyes.
God, she is brave.
“We’ll find a way,” he said finally. “Together.”
She smiled faintly, but her gaze remained distant, fixed on the treetops. “Thank you for telling me. I know it must’ve cost you something.”
“I told you,” he murmured, “no more running. Not from you.”
Marianne turned back to him then, and for the first time in that clearing, she leaned over and kissed him—soft and fleeting. But full of something deeper.
Hope.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“What are you trying to do, Marianne?” Her father’s cold voice interrupted her thoughts.
“What do you mean, what am I trying to do?” she asked innocently.
If her father expected her to cower now, he would be sorely disappointed. She would find all kinds of ways to protect her sisters.
“Every time Linpool comes close, you and your sister seem to go the other way. Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, his voice a quiet thunder.
Marianne was familiar with the undercurrents of Lord Grisham’s voice. The anger that he could somehow hide from others and communicate to her and her sisters.
“No, Father. She simply needs to be able to explore her options,” Marianne retorted, becoming a dam just like him.
“Options? Linpool is serious about pursuing your sister.”
“If that was the case, then no evading him would deter him.”
Then, she turned her back on him and strode away. She might be afraid of him, but she was more afraid of her sister being caught in a marriage with a lecher.
It had been three days since Dominic had told her about who Linpool was—his mother’s former lover—and she was still rattled. How could a woman be so callous and unkind, and so willing to debase herself, that she would give up her relationship with her son for her lover—or lovers, in her case?
After weeks of subtle maneuvers and whispered warnings, Marianne had managed to keep herself and Elizabeth away from Linpool. She had somehow been careful enough to keep it graceful, but she knew that some people would recognize it for what it was—deliberate.
Yet, even as the sisters found excuses, Linpool found ways to get closer. He was charming and persistent. Marianne shuddered to think about how she’d believed in him so easily that she was willing to fight her husband over it. It had seemed like a pretty diversion from the tension between her and Dominic.
The Viscount was everywhere: garden parties, musical nights, and charity luncheons. He’d have a smile that she wouldn’t have called predatory before but now did.
