And in the matter of fair play, she then insisted upon unbuttoning his falls and placing him at her entrance.
In giving, we receive…
Marcus was never one to say no to a lady.
“Would her grace feel slighted, do you suppose,” Marcus lay back against the soft pillows, thoroughly satisfied, “if we were to forgo her dinner this evening?” He and his wife lay side by side, fingers threaded with one another’s.
It would take a few moments for them to catch their breath.
Emily turned and tucked herself up against him. “One could argue that we have, just this morning, completed a lengthy journey.”
“That’s my girl.” He would sleep then. She’d rather worn him out.
“Marcus?”
“Um hum.” Sixty more seconds and he’d be asleep.
“I’ve done something.” She played with the short hairs on his chest.
“What have you done, Emily?” He could not keep the smile from his voice. He was coming to truly enjoy her little surprises.
“Um.” Unusual of her to be searching for her words like this. “The farmer you believed your father killed, Mr. Thistlebum. He was not your Meggie’s father. He was her husband.”
It took him mulling over her words for nearly a full minute before Marcus realized what she was telling him.
“Why would you say something like that?” he finally managed to spit out, pushing her away and sitting up. Only moments ago, he’d contemplated if he was in love with this woman. Now, she seemed like the worst of busybodies, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
Emily gathered the blanket around her and then glanced about for her spectacles.
Marcus grabbed them from the table and tossed them in her direction in irritation. “Answer me,” he demanded.
Once she had the lenses perched in front of her eyes, she seemed to gather her wits and then glanced up at him again. “You told me she was older than you. I wondered that an older woman might be tempted to prey upon a seventeen-year-old heir to a duke.”
“And so, you… what? Hired an investigator?” Her gaze moved nervously around the room. The truth dawned on him at that moment. In order to have garnered such information, she would have had to have made inquiries before they left for Gretna Green.
They’d only just returned.
“You asked the duchess to look into Meggie Thistlebum before we left? You shared my private information with your friend in some misguided attempt to discredit a woman I once loved? Why on earth?” He swiped a hand through his hair. “What reason would you have…?”
Marcus was out of the bed now, tugging on his shirt, pulling up his britches. “Was it not enough for you to trap Carlisle? Snare me for your friend?” He couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around what she’d done.
And what did it mean?
Did any of it even matter anymore?
“Damn you to hell, Emily!” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “What else did you discover?” Good God. “And the child? Where is he? Why has this evil-hearted woman not used my child to extort funds?”
Emily bit her lip but did not back down from him. Why would she do this? Was she jealous of his past? Could this possibly have been done out of some misguided ruse to reconcile him with his father? And why would she care about that anyhow?
None of it made sense.
“There is no child.” She sounded uncaring as she said the words.
“He died?” Marcus gathered his Hessians. He presumed he had a dressing room of his own. “Crandall!”
“There never was a child.”
“Yes, my lord?” His valet appeared at one of the doors. Ah, yes. He did seem to have a dressing room.
