Page 79 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

Marianne let out a small laugh, but the truth lingered between them. “It’s not that simple. As I said, ours is not a love match. I expected worse, honestly. But somehow… he’s not a bad man. Just difficult to understand.”

The room fell silent. They shared a quiet sigh, their eyes drifting to the twins, who were engrossed in their game of chess or whatever version of it they had invented.

Marianne felt a pang of envy for their innocence. How quickly life had forced her to grow up. She’d been thrust into a marriage she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Finally, she broke the silence. “I’ll do what I can to help Lizzie.”

Wilhelmina’s eyes lit up with cautious hope. “You will?”

Marianne felt a sharp pang of regret for the word she’d chosen. “I’ll try.”

And she knew, as she looked at her sister’s eager face, that sometimes trying was not quite enough.

Marianne knocked lightly on the door to Dominic’s study. Lately, he’d taken to closing it, shutting himself away from the world—and, it seemed, from her.

“Dominic?” she called softly.

“Come in,” came the gruff reply, muffled by the wood but tinged with something else. A weariness, or perhaps defeat.

She pushed the door open just enough to slip inside and moved toward his desk. The door stayed slightly ajar, a thin barrier between them and the rest of Oakmere Hall.

When Dominic glanced up, he raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Marianne said formally, forcing calm into her voice.

He narrowed his eyes, searching her expression as if trying to unmask her motives. She met his gaze steadily, refusing to falter. He no longer had the right to doubt her intentions.

“All right,” he sighed, the tension leaving him in a small exhale. “What is it you want?”

For a fleeting moment, she missed the warmth behind his old pet name for her—little doe. The memory tugged at her chest.

But this was no time for reminiscing. She swallowed her pride and met his gaze head-on.

“I want to go to London.” She lifted her chin, daring him to refuse.

He had been distant these past weeks; perhaps now was the moment to ask permission.

Permission.The word tasted bitter. Being a woman was never simple.

“And what will you do in London?” he asked coolly, assessing her as though seeing her anew.

“I need to see Elizabeth.” She paused, biting back the urge to blame their father outright. “Our father has taken her to our London townhouse. She hasn’t been here with the others for two weekends. The pressure of the Season is getting to her.”

Dominic frowned. “Why not just send a letter? Say all you want and ask your questions. She can reply. That should be enough.”

Marianne pressed her lips into a thin line. Letters could never replace the certainty of seeing her sister with her own eyes. His suggestion felt cold, a refusal to understand.

“I appreciate your point, but I would rather see her myself. I won’t be gone long. You won’t even notice I’m away.”

He straightened, the faintest edge of irritation sharpening his voice. “You may go to London.”

“Oh! Thank you, Your Grace,” she blurted, the formality slipping despite herself. Permission felt like a favor asked by a child. “I can travel with my sisters and return alone, or wait until the next weekend to come back with them and their governess.”

He shook his head. “No, that won’t do. And what’s with the title? Do you see anyone else here?”

That formal distance had been her shield against his coldness. But now, it felt hollow.

“I’m just not comfortable with it,” she admitted, glancing down. “You do not need to worry. I won’t speak of what’s truly happening here.”