Page 40 of A Gentleman's Wife

Emma continued on before them admiring the room, but Marianne remained by the duchess, eager to prepare her further.

“Might I ask a question, Isabel?” she asked in a lowered voice.

“Of course, anything.” The duchess took a step closer to her.

“Did Thomas also mention my… that I’m…”

Isabel nodded. “He told me of your delicate hand, to take great care while dancing.”

“I’m much obliged. You needn’t worry so much for injuring me, only I won’t be able to clasp your hand in the usual way. If you’ll set your hand on top of mine, that will be easy enough.”

“It is your right hand?” the duchess asked.

Marianne hesitated, then nodded, lifting the hand in question. Her fingers were not so tightly fisted on this occasion, which gave her hand a slightly curled claw appearance, though she hoped it wouldn’t be as noticeable during the dance.

Isabel gently set her hand over Marianne’s, drawing her attention up. “Yes, this will be a good modification, and no one should be the wiser.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you being so accommodating.”

“Come now, dear. I should be thanking you.” Marianne didn’t miss the sparkle in the duchess’s eye.

“How so?”

“Not only for the invitation, but also for saving Thomas from…”

Marianne’s stomach twisted in knots. “The countess?” she whispered.

Isabel met her gaze and nodded. “They were not a good match in my eyes. Though I am sorry he broke his heart over her.”

It was everything she wanted to hear so badly, but she still had a hard time believing it, that he wouldn’t have been better off with someone else. Someone without her difficulties.

“I will say,” Isabel went on, leaning and lowering her voice. “I’ve never seen him so happy or content as he is now. It must be because of you.”

Marianne looked up again, not at the duchess, but back at her husband. He did look different from the day she’d met him, but could anyone be more nervous than on their wedding day? He’d confessed he’d still been heartbroken over the countess for some time, but that his heart had changed and softened, that he was now committed to Marianne. She wanted to believe him, to trust him, but could she see the truth beyond her own desires?

Though the gentlemen continued in their conversation, Thomas looked up and met her gaze, a casual smile settling across his lips. A smile meant just for her. Her heart pounded in response, unable to look away from him. She returned his smile, wondering what he saw when he looked at her. A pretty dress? A broken woman? A burden attached to him for life? She certainly wouldn’t blame him, but she hoped he saw much more. For to her, he was everything. Husband, savior, and friend. And yet, still she longed for more. Could he possibly see her as something more? Could she someday call him lover too?

“Upon my word,” the duchess said, drawing Marianne’s gaze and making no attempt to hide her pleased smile. “You’re quite in love with him, aren’t you?”

Marianne froze, any possible answer stuck in her throat. “I… I…”

The clang of the grandfather clock sounded the hour, saving her from any response.

“Well, we must be off to do our duty. Do enjoy yourselves tonight.” Thomas reached for Marianne and escorted her toward the front door, where they would be posted some time for greetings and introductions.

“What did the duchess say that left you so flustered?” he asked, leaning in close to her ear.

Marianne couldn’t possibly repeat it, let alone answer it. “I cannot say,” she mumbled, looking around the foyer, anywhere but at him.

“Then you must tell me later.” Finally able to meet his gaze, she found a teasing sparkle in his brown eyes. “After we’ve endured the evening and we can laugh on the absurdity of it all.”

Marianne nodded, but rather hoped he’d forget. She’d never be able to confess such a thing.

And when the doors opened, the onslaught began. Local visitors dressed in their finery poured inside, some Marianne knew by name and others she didn’t. Eventually each face became just like the next, passing in a nameless rush. She could tell the number of people in attendance increased by the warmth in the house and the sounds of conversation growing in the ballroom. How many had there already been, a hundred? And yet, more continued to come.

But Marianne knew the moment the countess arrived, for she noticed how Thomas’s countenance changed. With his narrowed eyes on the door, he inhaled sharply, his shoulders straightened, and everything about him went stiff. Marianne followed his gaze and instinctively stepped closer toward him, not intending for her finger to brush against his. His response was to clasp her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together. He gave her a smile that she could tell was forced and stiff, that he wasn’t looking forward to this any more than she was. But he’d promised not to abandon her tonight, so she wouldn’t abandon him either.

The countess was the one who should have been called exquisite. The man by her side was as smartly dressed as any brooding regal, and she was his elegant equal. She was everything Marianne had expected and feared. Brown hair like her own, tall and slender in a pearl evening gown, and two perfect hands that Marianne coveted, even for just a moment. It was clear why Thomas had fallen in love with her. That is, until the couple grew near, and Marianne was faced with the cold judgment of her icy stare.

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