Page 11 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“Perfectly, dear. I must say you look lovelier every time I see you. Doesn’t she, David?”
David nodded, his eyes full of appreciation. “Beautiful.”
Nash could not understand how Ellie could reject a man who was undeniably in love with her.
Ellie sat on the chair closest to the door instead of the armchair beside David. Had the man noticed, or was he so engrossed in staring at her that he didn’t care? Nash hoped for the latter option.
“We should go to the dining room,” Nash said after ten minutes of chatter. “The food is ready.”
David rushed to Ellie’s side to escort her, beaming down at her. Ellie offered up a weak smile in return, but once Nash caught her eye and lifted an eyebrow, she perked up and gave a better smile. If she continued with this behaviour, their meal might turn into one awkward dinner.
Everyone took their usual seats at the table and tucked into the food without hesitation. Well, everyone but Ellie. Nash could not recall a time he had felt this frustrated with her.
“Is that all you are eating, my dear?” Lady Montague asked her.
“I am not terribly hungry, My Lady.”
“Are you ill?” David asked.
“No, not at all. I had tea and biscuits a little while ago, and it has ruined my dinner. It was foolish of me, but I couldn’t help myself.”
The viscountess laughed. “I do that myself at times, dear. There is no need to worry.”
Ellie was fortunate she had such understanding and kind people willing to think the best of her. Others might have criticised her for eating before a dinner party.
Conversation soon moved on to the wedding the Ruperts still believed would happen soon.
“The banns should be read soon,” the viscount said. “When will you two set a date for the wedding?”
Nash held his breath as he waited for his sister to say something. He prayed she wouldn’t say something to insult the man.
“That is the bride’s decision, Father,” David told him. “I’m happy with whatever day Ellie chooses.”
Everyone turned to her. “Well,” she said. “I think we should wait a while.”
Silence. Nash put his head down and cut into his lamb cutlet. He couldn’t look at their faces; he didn’t want to see what they thought about his sister’s answer.
“But why?” the viscountess asked, clearly confused. “You and David are engaged, and we have spoken about a summer wedding. Summer is a month away.”
“I ... uh ...” Ellie stuttered, swallowing hard. She stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back. “Would you please excuse me?”
The woman ran out of the room, leaving the Ruperts bewildered. Nash groaned inwardly. What a mess this was!
“Is Eleanor not well?” Lady Montague asked.
“I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll go to her and find out. Please, excuse me.”
Nash hurried after his sister, finding her in the garden. He slowed his pace and came to a stop beside her. Ellie didn’t acknowledge his presence, but the tension in her body spoke volumes.
“Will you tell me what’s going through your mind?” he asked.
Ellie shrugged.
“That’s not an answer. This is unlike you, Ellie. What has come over you?”
“I would feel better if everyone would give me space to breathe. All I ever hear about these days is the wedding. Well, what if I’ve changed my mind? What if I don’t ever wish to get married?”
“But that has always been your wish since you were a little girl,” Nash protested. “You used to pretend your dolls were your children and force Mrs Black’s son to play your husband.”
