Page 97 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

Dominic had taken to following her everywhere, too. She wondered if it was merely to keep Linpool at bay, or if there was something else.

She looked at him. He didn’t smile, but his eyes radiated heat that made her weak in the knees. They arrived together, of course, but there was still a thrilling connection between them, like they were meeting each other over and over again for the first time.

Lady Balfour’s musical night was supposed to be a quiet, intimate event in the countryside. It wasn’t that far from London, though. So, city dwellers weren’t too opposed to visiting and leaving for home afterward, although, as usual, some opted to stay with the hosts for the weekend.

“It looks like a good decision, coming here,” Marianne murmured, looking around at the eligible bachelors present. Some of them were of appropriate age—up to no more than a decade older than Elizabeth.

“It should be,” Dominic responded as he tightened his arm around hers.

Even though Marianne had made it clear that she was not interested in Linpool, her husband could not help but express his possessiveness anyway.

“I-I wish I had known about him earlier,” she said, glancing up at him.

His face was stoic, except for the slight softening of his eyes.

“You could not have known, Marianne.”

“I—Is this fine with you?” she asked.

“It is what it is. It’s my duty to ensure that you and your sister are safe,” he said solemnly as they continued to smile politely at other guests.

Weaving through the crowd had become easier for Marianne. It was no longer simply done to be noticed. It was now part of a mission—to keep her sisters safe and their reputations spotless.

“There you are, lovebirds!” Olivia startled them into bigger grins when she approached them like a storm. Her arms were already wide open for a hug.

“Lady Darfield,” Marianne greeted.

“Your Grace. Is it only me, or do you look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you? It seems you are looking better and better,” Olivia observed.

“Oh. Do not flatter me, dear,” Marianne said, with a gentle wave of her hand.

“No. Not flattery. Simon and I may be loud and possibly uncivilized in the eyes of theton,but we do not flatter. We always speak the truth, even if it gets us in trouble. There certainly is something. A new rouge?”

“She is not wearing rouge,” Dominic said, looking a little… proud?

“Your lovely bride indeed looks positively glowing, my man, but what about you? Still stiff as ever!” Simon commented, with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you must comport yourself that way, or else you’ll commit murder!”

“Mmph,” Dominic grunted. “Give it time.”

The glance he cast at Marianne was far from murderous. However, it did speak of a different kind of violence, the kind that would have her clothes shredded on the floor. In delicious tatters.

“Darling, please don’t cause a scene here,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for their friends to hear.

She pressed her shoulder against his side, and the tiny tremor there was enough for her to know that he wanted her. Wanted her at thatvery moment.

“No, my… Duchess,” he replied.

The pause after “my” suggested that he wanted to say something else, like “little doe.”

“I never cause scenes. Someone will have to begin them. Then, I will gladly end it for them.”

The passion she was feeling from him seemed to have transformed into something else—like anger. His shoulders had stiffened.

Marianne could understand, though. Despite fleeting glimpses of Linpool over the weeks they had been in London, and even tonight, she and Dominic had passed the evenings without incident.

“Then perhaps you and the Duchess should retire earlier so that we won’t be subjected to such a sight,” Simon jested, nodding subtly toward Linpool, who was only a few feet away.

The man, forty or so years old, seemed to know just how to act like a smitten young lad around Elizabeth. At the moment, though, he seemed to have forgotten his mission: he was deep in conversation with Lady Balfour’s niece.