Page 82 of Not his Marchioness
Why? Was it because he sought merely to enjoy one last evening with her before they parted ways? Or was it because he wished to discuss their future—perhaps even their future happiness—away from prying eyes?
Perhaps that was it.
“I thought of donating books,” he said suddenly, drawing her out of her reverie.
“Books?” she echoed.
“Yes. You will need them for the school, will you not? I have an entire library at our country estate that remains unused. We might go there, look through the books, and bring back whatever you require. There is little point in letting them collect dust.”
“You wish to go to the country estate?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “We might depart on Friday, after Parliament closes, and return on Monday. There is a vote on grain measures in which I must participate—if I do not fall asleep first.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “We shall go.”
He wanted to take her to the country estate. That must mean something. Perhaps the kiss meant more to him than she had dared to hope.
“Pray, is that not your sister?” he asked suddenly.
She turned, and indeed, there was Evelyn, along with Nathaniel.
“I did not know Nathaniel had returned to England,” she gasped. “I must greet them!”
“But the dance is not yet finished,” Rhys reminded her.
She hesitated, torn. She longed to run to her sister, whom she had not seen since the garden party. Nathaniel, too, had been away for a month.
“Let us step off the dance floor,” Rhys said.
“You wish to be rebellious?” she teased.
“Do you not?”
And so, while the other couples continued dancing, he offered his arm. She accepted it at once, and together they dashed off the dance floor, amid whispers and pointing fingers.
“Once again, we are what everybody is talking about,” she said.
He chuckled. “It seems to be our fate.”
Once clear of the dancers, Charlotte flew into her sister’s arms. “Evelyn! I did not know you were coming.”
She then turned to her brother-in-law.
Were they in private, she would have embraced him as well, but such a display was not proper, rebellious mood or no. Instead, she curtsied—he was a duke, after all—and gave his hand a light squeeze.
She adored Nathaniel. He had stood firm against their father, and if not for his sudden departure to Portugal to oversee his estates, perhaps the past two months might have unfolded differently. Though truthfully, she was no longer certain she wished for it. Not after everything.
Looking back at Rhys, she said, “Allow me to introduce you to my brother-in-law, Nathaniel, the Duke of Wells.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh heavens, I ought to have introduced you the other way round!”
“I think that is quite all right, Lady Charlotte,” Nathaniel said with a wink.
“A jest between me and my wife,” Rhys explained.
Those last two words made her skin tingle with warmth. He had spoken them as though he meant them.
“I see,” Nathaniel replied. “Well, I am glad to hear there are private jests between you. Such things bode well for any couple, do they not, Lady Evelyn?”
“Indeed, they do,” Evelyn affirmed. “Mr. Sinclair.”
