“Tonight, when you were watching me dance with Lord Harrison from the card room…”
“How did you know I was watching?”
“I always know when you’re watching. I can feel it.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to guard me every moment, you know. I can manage perfectly well on my own.”
“I know.” His hand came up to cup her face. “That’s not why I watch you.”
“Then why?”
“Because I cannot help it. Because seeing you move through a room—conquering it with words and wit—makes me feel... proud. Possessive. Grateful. A dozen things I lack words for.”
“You’re becoming quite fluent in emotion for someone who claimed not to possess any.”
“Another terrible influence of yours.” He drew her down for a kiss, slow and certain. “I love you, Marianne.”
The words, spoken so simply in the grey light, made her heart stutter. He’d said them before in passion, but never like this—calm, sure, unguarded.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
“Even though I’m possessive, difficult, and spent half the evening plotting the demise of any man who looked at you?”
“Because of those things, not despite them,” she said, kissing him again. “Though perhaps you might consider ways of expressing devotion that do not involve duels or homicide.”
“I make no promises.”
They lay in comfortable silence as the room grew brighter, both thinking of last evening’s successes. They’d faced society’s judgment and emerged stronger. Catherine had found a potential suitor. Marianne had established herself as a force to be reckoned with.
“We did well at Lady Weatherby’s,” she said at last.
“We did.” Adrian’s arm tightened around her. “Though I still say Lady Harrison deserved a lesson.”
“A lesson in deportment, perhaps—not annihilation.”
“Semantics,” he murmured.
“Adrian!”
“What? I merely meant that a little fear can be an excellent tutor.”
“You can’t solve everything with force.”
“No,” he agreed, “but force can be remarkably effective when properly applied.” He rolled suddenly, pinning her beneath him. “For instance, if I were to apply just the right amount of force here...” He nipped at her shoulder. “And here...” His mouth moved lower. “I could make you forget all about your civilised objections.”
“That’s not violence, that’s seduction.”
“Occasionally, they overlap.” He looked up at her with dark eyes full of promise. “Shall I demonstrate?”
What he demonstrated over the next hour had nothing to do with violence and everything to do with worship, but Marianne wasn’t inclined to correct him. Not when his hands and mouth were making such compelling arguments.
Later, as they finally drifted toward sleep with the full morning sun streaming through the curtains, Marianne reflected on how much had changed since that first night at the opera. Then, she had been her father’s daughter—bold, curious, determined to claim her place in a world that did not yet see her. Now she was a duchess in truth, not just in title—secure in her position, confident in her power, and beloved by a man who’d thought himself incapable of the emotion.
“What are you thinking?” Adrian murmured, more asleep than awake.
“That we’ve come rather far from that first night at the opera.”
“Mm. You refused to look away.”
“You noticed me.”
