Page 8 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Six

“ W hat a sight to behold,” Marion said as she gazed up at the grand London townhouse from the carriage window. She was stunned at the quiet grandeur of the place.

It was vast and imposing, yet possessed an undeniable, tasteful elegance. The brick was understated, offset by gorgeous full windows and gold gilding that felt fitting.

Six days had passed since their hectic departure from Strathcairn, and they breathed a collective sigh of relief as the carriage rolled to its final halt.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Lewis,” Verity offered as she approached the butler. “Please tell me that you can have the staff ready my old room.”

“Oh certainly, Lady Verity,” he said with a bow while turning his eyes to the Duke. “Welcome back, Your Grace. We anticipated your arrival and made the necessary arrangements. I trust you had a pleasant enough journey.”

“Thank you,” Anselm answered. His eyes floated over to Marion. “Please allow me to introduce Lady Marion Campbell.”

“How do you do, Lady Marion? I am the butler, Mr. Lewis,” he replied as he performed a small bow. “Welcome to the Greystead townhouse.”

The seasoned butler, a man whose bearing suggested he’d seen everything in his old age, still managed a flicker of surprise at the sight of two women.

“Lady Marion is a distant cousin who will be staying with us,” he explained. “On my father’s side by marriage.”

“It is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance.” Marion offered a small curtsy.

“Very well, Your Grace. I will go make the arrangements and alert Mrs. Clarke. And a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Marion,” he said as he walked away to coordinate with the servants.

After a few hurried moments amongst the staff, Verity was whisked away to her familiar room. Marion was directed to a more modest, though still perfectly appointed, guest chamber in a separate wing.

The walls were painted a rich green. The verdant tones reminded her of Anselm’s eyes.

Does everythin’ have to make me think of him? She cursed inwardly.

She sat down on the bed. The plushness of the brocade duvet provided comfort for her aching bones. Most of all, she loved the oversized picture windows that let in the glowing sun and looked down on the bustle of London.

She thought back to the whispers she had heard as she passed down the hall to the room. The judgment, even from the servants, was a familiar sting amongst the English, but a sting all the same. She ought to be used to it by now.

“I think she is Scottish,” one maid had said to another. “Did you hear that accent? She did not say much, but she is a Highlander!”

“Not sure how that can be a cousin to His Grace,” one footman said to another maid. “She is as wild as a Scottish mare! I do not think His Grace has any Scottish ancestry.”

She closed her eyes to quiet the voices in her head and let rest wash over her.

Marion woke to a soft tap on the door.

“Lady Marion,” a maid called from the threshold. “Lady Verity has had us draw you a hot lavender bath and it has just finished.”

Marion jumped out of her bed at the thought of a luxurious soak. She was ushered into the ornate bathroom next to her chambers, complete with marble flooring and elegant landscape paintings.

How I would love to paint somethin’ like this again, she thought as she lowered herself into the steaming water.

As the maid washed every inch of her body, Marion steeped away the worries that filled her. She thought of her uncle and aunt, Lord Gilton, and how desperately she needed to find her own path.

Then there was the Duke of Greystead. He was cold, aye , and authoritative, and so infuriatingly set in his ways. And yet… the intensity in his eyes, which held the green of a Highland forest in summer, were intoxicating.

His gaze was deep, rich, and threaded with shadows.

Those gleaming orbs were the sort of green that seemed soft at first glance but even when looked at long enough could allow a person to get completely lost. They might wander through something ancient and untamed with no clear path back.

Don’t get carried away, lass. He’s Verity’s brother! She scolded herself.

Even though Marion had seen the playful glimmer in Verity’s eyes when she’d left her and the Duke on their own back in Stamford, Marion knew well that His Grace would keep away from her. He was too stiff, too…

Drat, the point was that Marion had to keep him out of her mind.

Soon, the maid assisted Marion out of the tub and helped her dress for dinner. She was offered one of Verity’s gowns once more, as with her hasty departure, she’d brought no other clothes. Tonight’s dress was a deep sapphire which was again a touch too snug across her bust.

She looked in the mirror, noting how the cut hugged every part of her body a little too tightly.

It will have to do for now , she could only think.

Moments later, Marion entered the dining room and was greeted by Verity and the Duke’s gaze. The latter lingered a moment too long to be mistaken as a passing glance.

“While it may be a bit too tight, you look absolutely radiant in that color,” Verity gushed as they sat down to sup. “It goes so well with your eyes. Do you not think so, Anselm?”

“Indeed,” he said gruffly before taking a long swig from his wine goblet.

The dinner was served in courses with quiet precision by the attentive staff. They started with vichyssoise, then a duck dish that was accentuated with orange and herb. They moved onto a sumptuous stew, followed by a delicate dessert consisting of a lemon pudding.

“Each dish is more delightful than the last,” Marion gushed, savoring each bite. “Do you always dine like this?”

“I think my brother is trying to impress you,” Verity said with a wink.

“It’s a celebratory dinner,” the Duke said. His gaze flicked to Verity as his eyes narrowed just slightly. “My sister has returned.”

He left it at that. Calm, final, not inviting further comment.

Verity’s teasing smile faltered. She leaned back slightly in her chair as a hint of color rose to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze to her plate.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Silence fell over the table. Once the last dish was cleared, the Duke dismissed the staff with a curt nod.

“We’ll require privacy for our conversation,” he stated, his voice allowing no question.

The staff exited promptly and made sure to close the heavy oak doors behind themselves.

The Duke leaned forward and rested his elbows on the polished table as he drained the last of his glass.

“Now, about your safety, Lady Marion,” he began. “Harlowe and Gilton will undoubtedly retaliate. I’ll make arrangements for you to stay with one of my aunts as a lady’s companion this week. That should keep you safe and out of the immediate line of fire, while I deal with them.”

“Thank ye, Yer Grace,” she murmured, sincerity warming her voice. She appreciated the way he was helping her so much. “That is most kind.”

As Marion felt a rush of relief, she was overwhelmed by a pang of sadness as she looked at Verity.

She had been so lonely for so long. The years after her parents died were spent with the McCrae family or being ushered about by the Harlowe’s.

The thought of leaving the dearest friend she had ever known felt sharp, like being exiled all over again.

But it wasn’t just Verity.

Her chest tightened as her eyes flicked toward the Duke. There it was, the deeper ache—unwelcome, unfamiliar. For a fleeting moment, she’d tasted something different here, something close to… safety, even…

Well, she didn’t precisely know.

And now, just as quickly, it was slipping from her fingers.

She straightened, steadying herself, her face calm even as the quiet, hollow disappointment bloomed inside her.

Of course it was only temporary. It had never been hers to keep. “Oh, Marion! Must you go? I would be so sad to see you leave.” Verity’s lips turned down at the corners unhappily as she threw down her napkin.

“It is the safest route, Verity,” the Duke stated as he turned his gaze firmly on his sister. “For now.”

Marion held Verity’s gaze, searching for some reassurance in those sorrowful eyes. She gave a small, steady nod.

“Aye, it’s for the best, Verity. I promise,” she reassured her friend.

She saw the tight frown deepen on Verity’s brow. There was quiet sadness in that look which didn’t fade despite her words. It was clear that Verity wanted her to stay. She wanted to hold onto this precious bond they’d begun to build.

At least they had a few days together before she’d leave. That was Marion’s only consolation.

Then the Duke’s voice cut through their moment, firm and resolute. “Well… Verity, join me in my study. We need to talk.”

For a brief second, a flicker of perplexion crossed his eyes, as though he questioned the plan himself. But just as quickly, the shadow passed, and was replaced by the careful mask of formality.

“I hope you enjoyed the dinner, my lady,” he said smoothly as he inclined his head with practiced courtesy toward Marion. “I wish you a good rest. If you’ll excuse me and my sister, we have matters to discuss.”