Nowthatwas the old Marcus. Quick to judge and act. A warmth filled her, but she pushed it aside. “It would serve no purpose. Northampton is too small to be so insulting.”
“Something Lady Burchall should learn.”
She sighed. “I’ve found the older people are, the less they bend.” She pointed to a large oak tree ahead on the road. “It’s like that tree up ahead. The older and bigger it grows, the less it bends. Trying to teach it to bend would be a waste of one’s time.”
He glanced at her before returning his attention to the road. “How do you know so much about people?”
She shrugged, then smirked. “Perhaps my sister has influenced me more than I know.”
He glanced at her again. “Then you must still be young like yonder sapling.” He pointed to a tree barely as high as they sat.
She swallowed a laugh. The man had lost his powers of observation if he believed his own words. “Not so. I’m quite sure that Lady Burchall refrained from calling me ayoungwoman because of the fact I am no longer.”
The horses slowed as Marcus pulled back on the reins and faced her. “You are not so old.”
She cocked her head and raised her brows. “Not only am I a widow, but I am on the shelf.”
“A score and six is not so old. I am thirty-two and that is far older.”
That he remembered how old she was, thrilled her. Did that mean he’d thought of her over the last two years while he hid? “But you are a man. Being of an age as a man is quite the thing. My husband was quite older and yet one of his requirements was that his wife be no more than a score and five.”
Marcus studied her so avidly that she looked away, uncomfortable with such focused perusal. Did he look for her age?
“How old was your husband?”
Though the question was evenly spoken, the final wordhusbandseemed to have a particular tone to it, as if he hated that particular word. If that was so, he’d best overcome his aversion to it for he would be expected to wed very soon. She thought back on her marriage, something she rarely did. George had been older than her father. “Lord Beaumont was about three score. It wasn’t something we discussed.”
Marcus turned away.
Though she couldn’t be sure, it sounded as if he’d sworn under his breath. That was also a common habit he’d had before he left for the war. It was good to see that some of his former self remained. Which begged the question, what had changed him so?
Belinda, who had gone to the infirmaries while she lived, had spoken about men who had lost limbs, were scarred about the face, or looked at the walls all day. But Marcus had no such injuries. Except for being more muscular, he looked as he had before he left. But there was a coldness about him that hadn’t been there before. Could that be the war?
He lifted the reins again. “Though your husband was old, you are not, and can easily find another to marry.”
She did laugh at that. “Oh, no. I’m never going to marry again. Though I enjoyed running a household, there is much too much about the station that I do not like at all.” She couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her and she wished he’d clicked the horses into a trot again.
His head whipped around to stare at her, his gray gaze intense. “Did he hurt you?”
Heat rose in her cheeks at the question. George had been a kind husband, but his nightly visits to her bed had been uncomfortable at best and painful at their worst.
“He did!” The words were growled. “If the man wasn’t dead, I’d call him out.”
Confused by his anger, she set her gloved hand on his arm. “There is no need to think ill of the dead. Lord Beaumont was a good husband. He did not beat me, if that’s what you think. He married me in the hopes of getting an heir. Unfortunately, I disappointed him in that, which is another reason I will never marry. Who would want a wife who is barren?” Despite the pain that admission brought, she managed a small smile.
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just stared at her as if he were trying to puzzle things out.
But she didn’t want him to know what it had been like. No one knew. She turned back toward the road, setting her hand in her lap. “Besides, I’m quite happy to be a widow. I can do as I please within the bounds of society and enjoy my family and friends. With our supposed betrothal, I will even be looked upon as twice lucky and later, after it ends, I will look for a home just for me.”
Marcus finally flicked the reins and set the horses to moving again. “And what will you do in this home of yours?”
His voice was no longer angry, but neither was it friendly. In fact, it sounded as if he thought her idea silly. Insulted, she latched upon Joanna’s idea from the other morning. “I’m thinking of breeding horses.”
His eyes widened and a surge of triumph filled her.
Why was shocking him so fun?
“I see.”
