Page 66 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dominic stiffen. His jaw clenched, and the glare hardening his features—which he directed at the actor—could have peeled paint.

“You flatter me, Sir,” Marianne replied with a practiced laugh. “I should be the one complimenting your performance.”

“Now, with those shimmering eyes of yours on me? No,youflatterme, Your Grace.” Godwin winked.

Marianne could only offer a polite smile in return, for no one—apart from her sisters and perhaps Daniel once or twice—had ever winked at her.

Dominic opened his mouth, still glaring daggers at Godwin, but a voice cut him off.

“Good evening, Lord Cheswick. My heartfelt apologies for arriving late,” a man said, his voice saccharine sweet.

Marianne turned in the man’s direction. He was older than Dominic by a few years, and handsome in an ordinary way, but his eyes were sharper, watchful in a way that suggested he missed nothing.

“Lord Linpool!” Lord Cheswick called. “At last.”

She sensed something shift in Dominic. She had seen him tense before, had seen him furious. But this… this was colder.Deeper.

“Your Grace,” Linpool asked casually, “won’t you introduce me to the lovely lady at your side?”

Dominic didn’t bother disguising his distaste. “Lord Linpool, may I present my wife, the Duchess of Oakmere. Duchess, this is the Viscount Linpool, an… old acquaintance.”

Marianne curtsied to the Viscount. “It is a pleasure meeting you, my lord.”

“Ah. Well, you are fortunate indeed, Your Grace,” Linpool said with a smile that somehow showed teeth. “Your hunting skills have finally yielded a prize worth keeping.”

Marianne chuckled politely. “You gentlemen flatter me too much.”

“Absolutely not, Your Grace,” Linpool said, his voice light. “Your flatterers, including myself, speak only the truth. Such a graceful lady like you must be cherished at all times.”

Marianne blinked and offered a tight smile, still unsure how to handle such compliments—and because something about the Viscount’s tone did not sit well with her.

“We’re leaving,” Dominic announced abruptly. “Lord Cheswick, thank you for your hospitality, but the hour grows late.”

Lord Cheswick blinked. “Oh, but so soon? Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace?”

“I shall be fine by morning.”

With a rushed series of goodbyes, Dominic seized Marianne’s arm and guided her out into the night.

“Did you enjoy their attention, Marianne?”

There it was. Her name, spoken like a brand.

“W-What?” she asked.

“You cannot flirt with other men in front of me.”

“I wasn’t flirting! You can’t dictate what I say or who I speak to. At least they were civil. Of course, I didn’tbelievethem, but they were… kind.”

“Kind?” he echoed, incredulous. “That actorwinkedat you. And Linpool—do you believe that man meant no harm?”

His face was closer now, shadows cutting hard across his cheekbones. The carriage ran over a rut in the road, and he scooted nearer. The smell of champagne clung to him, along with something else. Something dangerous. Possessive. Hungry.

Marianne felt her skin flush beneath her gown, a traitorous bloom of warmth spreading down her throat and across herchest. He claimed he was the one not feeling well, but it wasshewho was burning.

Suddenly, the carriage hit a particularly rough patch, jolting them forward. This time, Dominic lurched closer—so close that his lips nearly brushed hers.

“You are mine, Marianne,” he said, his voice rough. “I will not tolerate anyone else trying to claim what’s mine.”