Page 12 of A Whisper of Desire
“You know more about the man than I.”
“I’m quiet too. I notice those similar to me. People like you are too caught up with the gaiety.”
Marisa’s eyes opened wide. “Are you calling me shallow? Youare.” She turned back to the mirror and looked at herself. Helen could be right. She was so caught up in being the most sought-after debutante, she’d not really taken the time to study those around her. She shivered in the afternoon heat. She’d never make that mistake again.
“I didn’t mean it as a fault, Marisa. We are all different. You are a vivacious person. Just by smiling, you make the room light up when you enter, and you always know what to say to put everyone at ease. That’s a gift.” Helen smiled at her and she smiled back.
“Perhaps I should stop trying to be the center of attention and take more notice of those around me.”
“He fooled everyone, even Sebastian,” her sister replied.
She nodded thoughtfully. It made her doubt what she knew about Maitland. She thought him nice, but she’d really spent only one day with him. He was Sebastian’s friend, though.
She wanted to have a closer look at Maitland. Everything he’d done over the last twenty-four hours had been to protect her. He had not lied to her, threatened her; he did, she thought, with warmth flooding her cheeks, try to seduce her. He’d been more a friend to her tonight than Rutherford ever had.
“I think I’m going to marry Maitland.”
Helen gasped. “Are you sure? He is definitely not like you in personality.”
Marisa loved Helen so much, she didn’t care that many thought Helen was only her half sister, a product of one of her mother’s affairs. “True. He’s more like you, and you and I get along famously.”
Helen laughed. “That can’t be the only reason. Are you thinking of Sebastian and the scandal?”
“Nothing so honorable, I’m afraid.” Marisa shook her head and let her tears fall. “I can’t be shunned. I can’t bear to have everyone sneering and thinking ill of me. I guess I’m a coward.”
Helen came and hugged her. “No, my sweet. You’re simply focused on self-preservation, as anyone in your situation would be. Maitland is nice. He’s handsome and rich, and you’ll be a duchess. Most young ladies would sell their best jewels to receive an offer from His Grace.”
“I think he’s lonely. I like him, even though I’ve really only known him for a day. It’s just I have this hunger in my soul for more. I want what Sebastian and Beatrice share.”
“We can’t always get what we want, can we?”
Marisa looked at Helen. “I know you are in love with Lord Fullerton,” she said softly, as she squeezed Helen’s hand.
Helen nodded. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
Marisa brushed a curl off Helen’s face. “When you’re a bit older, he will. You’re so beautiful.”
“It might be too late. He might meet someone else.”
“Then perhaps it isn’t meant to be. Maybe there is a young man out there who is searching for a woman just like you.”
Helen brushed a tear off her face. “Aren’t we a pair? In love with men who don’t love us.” She stood and helped Marisa clasp the pearl necklace round her neck. “I think you’ll make a beautiful, kind duchess.”
Marisa hugged her close before making her way to Sebastian’s study. Her stomach was full of butterflies. She wasn’t only nervous. She was excited too. Maitland was a conundrum she planned on solving if she was to be married to him for the rest of her life.
She stopped at the study door to gather her composure. It wasn’t every day a young lady became a duchess. The idea of her new station gave her courage. She knocked firmly and entered.
To her surprise, Maitland was present. The two men rose and Maitland moved forward to greet her. He bowed over her hand. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
She gave him a warm smile, suddenly wanting to see the lines of worry round his eyes ease. “I’m fine,” she said, and she rather surprised herself by pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she looked across the desk at her brother, he was beaming.
Maitland held out a chair for her, and she sat. “I have almost made my decision.”
Sebastian’s smile faltered. “Almost?”
She turned to Maitland, who had retaken his seat. “Doyouhave a mistress?”
“Marisa, really.”
