Page 38 of A Gentleman's Wife

Chapter Eighteen

Marianne couldn’t tear her eyes from her own reflection. After all the time spent dressing and primping for the ball, now she looked like a different person. Despite being born into wealth and privilege, she had never been allowed to look the part. Surely, she had been deemed elegant enough to not shame her family, but she could not think back on a time when she had ever felt this refined or even beautiful. It made her take pride in herself, to appear as someone of worth. And if she looked it, perhaps she would feel it, and if others would see it, she wouldn’t have to suffer anyone who would make her feel less-than ever again.

Lifting her chin, Marianne squared her shoulders. After Thomas’s insistence that she acquire a dress special for the occasion, consulting with Eliza and Mrs. Bamber on the subject, and various visits to the modiste in the village, she was pleased with the result of her gown. A slate blue silk with a sheer overlay and intricate black trimming across the high waist and the daring squared neckline. She would have preferred a simple appearance, but Mrs. Bamber had insisted on something more regal, and Marianne was grateful she had. Eliza had seen to it that her hair had been pinned and twisted to elegant perfection and added a small feather that, at first, Marianne had protested, but now she was convinced made the ensemble. It matched the color of the gown and brought out the color of her eyes. The last pieces were her long white gloves and pearl earrings, the finishing touches that would make her feel every inch a princess.

As she fastened the earrings, a knock sounded at her door. “Come in.”

She assumed it was Eliza, coming to check on her and rush her downstairs, so she hurried with the last earring. “Are they all waiting for me?”

“Not yet.”

Thomas’s words sounded behind her, and she whirled around to face him. He looked perfect in his formal dress coat and stiff collar, but as the smile on his lips slowly faded, Marianne started to panic. Her face heated, suddenly feeling like a fraud. He would see through all the finery and know what everyone else knew––that she didn’t belong at the head of a house as a gentleman’s wife.

“You look…” he began, but his words trailed off.

“Sufficient?” Marianne’s throat grew tight, trying to stifle the emotion as she swallowed.

“More than sufficient.” The tone of his voice was low, making her stomach stir with butterflies. He walked toward her, and the hint of a smile returned to his lips as he neared. His brown eyes went dark as his gaze traveled over the length of her, and she stiffened under his scrutiny. Then he reached for her hand and in that same gravelly voice said, “You are exquisite.”

Marianne let out a small laugh of nerves, then remembered her manners. “Thank you. And you look very handsome, as well.”

His eyes glowed with something more that she couldn’t define. “Thank you, Marianne. Now, I have something for you before we descend.”

For the first time, Marianne noticed he held a small box in his hand.

“One final accoutrement. You needn’t wear it if it will clash with your ensemble, but Grandfather brought it as part of my inheritance, and I want you to have it.”

When Thomas opened the box, Marianne gasped. A beautiful strand of pearls awaited her.

“Truly?” she asked breathlessly. “You want me to have this?”

He nodded. “Would you like to wear it?”

“I’d be honored.”

Marianne turned to face her mirror again, only this time, Thomas stood in the reflection behind her. With the realization that her husband stood in her bedchambers, she grew stiff and unsure. Thomas raised his arms around her, resting the pearls across her bare skin, and with his ungloved fingers, he fastened it at the back of her neck. She felt the whisper of his touch on her skin, and she tried to breathe naturally, but the way her heart kept pounding made that nearly impossible.

“There we are,” he whispered. Thomas lowered his hands, but he met her gaze in the mirror. “As I said, exquisite.”

She reached up to brush her fingers across the pearls and nodded. Then turning to face him, she said, “Thank you. I will treasure these always.”

He acknowledged her words with a nod, then took in her appearance once more. “Shall I help you with your gloves?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.” Marianne cast a glance to the door as she sat on the edge of her bed. “I can’t imagine where Eliza’s run off to.”

“Perhaps she’s snuck a moment with her beau.”

“Her beau?” Marianne snapped up at him, and when he winked, she realized he was teasing, which in turn, made her smile.

The feel of his touch on her right hand distracted Marianne from her thoughts. It was still a new sensation, but not so shocking or worrisome anymore. He did not look at her with repulsion, did not handle her with delicacy. Though he did not move with the ease and efficiency that Eliza had gained over the years as he worked each of her stiff fingers into the correct slot of her glove, he did not shy away from it either. He seemed determined, like he desired to be there, helping her. And she could not express in words just how much she appreciated him.

“Now, Grandfather is getting settled in his room.” Thomas did not stop his work, inching the fabric over her hand. “He should join us downstairs at any moment. And my friends have already arrived. They are waiting for us in the parlor.”

Marianne froze, her heart skipping a beat in terror. “The duke and duchess are already here? Shouldn’t I have been down to greet them? They’ll think I don’t respect them or know how to––”

Her words were silenced by his bare finger pressed against her lips, and her heart skipped for an entirely different reason.

“They’re not the sort of nobility to demand pomp and circumstance. In fact, they prefer to avoid it in most private settings. I promise they’ll not cause you any grief. They’re my friends, and I’d like to think they can be your friends, as well.”

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