*
Mariel pressed herhand to her chest, the ache at seeing the headstone still sharp inside her heart. In her pique over Marcus being alive, she’d forgotten to be grateful he wasn’t dead. That she could talk to him, argue with him, even be rude to him, was only because he wasalive. How churlish of her to not appreciate that simple fact.
Tears welled in her eyes that she could have been so quick to condemn the man she’d loved. He had been carefree when he’d courted her. Now he was cold and hard. Gone was the spontaneity that drew her to him, so unlike her well-ordered planning. He had changed, but she never asked why. Now, she wanted to know.
“Mariel, I’m sorry you saw that.”
At his voice, she looked up, his visage blurred by her tears. “Why are you alive?” It wasn’t the question she’d wanted to ask, but it was the first to come to the fore.
He immediately looked away, stiffening. “As I said, I believe that would be due to an error on the part of the military.” His gaze met hers again, his eyes unreadable. “I suggest we remove ourselves from this dreary place. It is far too morbid for a Sunday outing.”
The new part of her wanted to remark on the sun shining and the pleasant temperature, but she clamped her lips together and rose from the bench. “Of course.” Taking his arm again, they walked in silence out of the graveyard under an archway filled with vines and tiny buds. As they strolled along the side of the stone church, she heard voices over the sounds of the birds. No doubt many of the parishioners had tarried outside to intercept them.
As they rounded the corner, she found her guess to be correct. That Marcus hesitated in his step made it clear he hadn’t been as aware. He must have been deep in thought.
Baroness Burchall approached them immediately and the chatter of more than a dozen people immediately quieted. “Lady Beaumont, it’s so lovely to see you again.”
She graciously took the hand extended toward her, hoping to impress upon the other parishioners that Lady Burchall was a dear friend of the family, though that was only partially true. It was, after all, about appearances. “It is always a pleasure to be in your company. Did you enjoy the service?”
“Oh yes. It’s a breath of fresh air to listen to a young man’s voice.”
Mariel held her smile by force of habit. The older lady had been complaining about missing the former vicar just two days prior. “I agree. Our vicar is quite young as well, and brings much energy to the sermon.”
The older woman had already stopped listening as she turned her attention to Marcus. “My Lord Blackmore, it is so good to see that you are in residence now.”
“It will only be for a short while, but it was necessary that I might reclaim my betrothed.” His arm tightened as if truly wishing she were his again.
She ignored the pleasurable feeling that imperceptible movement caused her. He’d made it clear he had no interest in renewing their relationship and only pretended because she’d made him feel guilty. At least that spoke to the fact his values were still in place.
“What wonderful news!” Lady Burchall clapped her hands together, her voice becoming louder. “How proud your mother must be that you have captured such a darling…woman.” Lady Burchall turned to her. “Congratulations my dear. You must be so pleased that he came home to you.”
Mariel hadn’t missed the hesitation in the baroness’ statement. What had she been about to utter? Had she thought to sayyoungbut thought better of it? Or had she planned to saymarquess’s daughter, which would bring undue attention to the fact that had the betrothal been real, Marcus would be marrying up. She was just pleased that the older woman had refrained. “I am very grateful that my lord survived the war.”
Lady Burchall’s countenance immediately grew somber. “Oh yes, such a horrid event. I’m so glad it’s over. Not being able to travel to the continent because of that little man was so inconvenient.”
This time, the pressure of Marcus’ arm was much stronger, and he immediately responded. “Well, I’m sure Wellington had that in mind when he turned the tide. Now, if you will excuse us. I promised Lady Beaumont I would return her to Silver Meadows in time to aid the duchess in a task that needs two sets of hands.”
“Oh my, yes. I do hope the duchess doesn’t require you to engage in her lessons. You are such a fine lady.”
At the insult to her sister, she swallowed her retort, but it was harder than normal. What was wrong with her? “Her ladies are all in London for the season, so you need not worry that my sister will taint me in any way.” She snapped her mouth shut as the words slipped from her lips.
At Lady Burchall’s widening gaze, Marcus smiled. “Yes, I told Lady Beaumont that the duchess really should leave the painting to Lady Amelia.”
The older woman wagged her finger. “Oh, it is not Lady Amelia anymore. She is the Countess Sommerset now.” The woman smiled as if she’d been responsible for the match.
“I stand corrected. Countess Sommerset.” Marcus gave the baroness a slight bow before turning his head to look at her. “Shall we?”
“Please.” Waving a quick farewell to Lady Burchall, she walked with Marcus to his phaeton, the chatter resuming behind them.
After handing her up, he settled in next to her and clicked the reins.
As soon as they were out of hearing, she turned toward him. “Thank you. I don’t know why I said that.”
Marcus’ mouth quirked up on one side. “I thought the woman was going to have apoplexy. Did you notice how red she turned?”
She batted his arm. “Marcus, that wasn’t humorous.”
He shrugged, a grin on his face. “I think it was. She insults your sister and expects you to be polite about it? She’s lucky you and your sister don’t give her the cut direct. I would.”
