David glanced up from a letter he was reading. “I suppose that depends on when you’d like to begin our wedding trip,” he hedged.
“Then I shall send regrets for all of these,” she replied with a grin.
“I do like the way you think,” he said as he tossed the letter he’d been reading onto the desk. “On to the dining room,” he said as he headed for the door.
Marian hesitated but followed the baron to the next room off of the main hall. Although it featured a table that might seat ten or twelve, the dining room was huge by townhouse standards. “We could host a ball in here,” she murmured in awe.
“Oh, please. Let’s not,” David countered.
She giggled at the very moment Glover appeared on the threshold to announce tea had been served in the parlor.
“Upstairs,” David said before Marian could ask where the parlor was located. He offered an arm, and the two climbed the flight of stairs located on one side of the main hall. “It’s not particularly grand, I know,” he said as they made their way.
“But it provides a rather glorious vantage,” she said as they looked over the railing to the hall below.
“The parlor is right here,” he said in a quiet voice, his head nodding to a set of open double doors.
“How convenient for our guests,” she replied, glancing between the top of the stairs and the parlor.
David regarded her with a grin. “You’re being a very good sport about this,” he said in a quiet voice.
Marian gave a start. “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “You’ve been running the household at Penhurst Place for... for how long?” They headed into the parlor.
“A few years,” she admitted.
“This must seem... petty,” he said with a wince. A quick glance around the parlor had him pleasantly surprised, though. It appeared brighter and fresher than he remembered, and there was a pleasant scent of pine in the air.
Marian shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never thought of Penhurst Place as my own. As if I would ever truly be the lady of the house,” she amended. “At any moment, Uncle Richard can take a wife, and I will be relegated to a guest bedchamber at the end of a long forgotten corridor.”
David gave a start. “I promise that as my wife, that shall never happen to you,” he whispered.
Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do you suppose...?” She didn’t complete the thought out loud. Had her uncle decided to remarry? Did he already have someone in mind to become the new Lady Penhurst?
Coming to the same conclusion, David furrowed a brow and pulled her into his arms. “If Lord Penhurst is intending to remarry, he has said nothing to me,” he murmured. “He already has an heir.”
“Cousin William,” she acknowledged, her curt response suggesting she didn’t care for the young man.
“Perhaps Penhurst really did plan for us to meet. See you settled,” David suggested. He shrugged. “If that’s the case, his plan is working to perfection.”
She dipped her head. “I do hope you’re not feeling as if he has manipulated the situation somehow. Because... because I do,” she admitted.
David winced. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Her eyes rounded. “Oh, not about us,” she assured him. “But I have every intention of thoroughly scolding him when next I see him.”
Chuckling at the thought of Marian Copper giving the Earl of Penhurst the what-for, David remembered something. “Careful, my sweet,” he said, about to remind her that Penhurst controlled her dowry. “Best to keep him in our good graces since we’ll be eloping soon.”
Marian inhaled softly. “Of course.” She glanced around the parlor. “Well, this is certainly cozy. Not the least bit shabby,” she remarked. “Penhurst Place’s parlor is well-used,” she added with a wince.
“I hope you’ll like the country house,” David said in a quiet voice. “That you’ll make it your own. That you’ll want to stay there with me for the rest of our lives,” he added before he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her quite thoroughly.
When they came up for air, Marian stared at him for a moment before she inhaled softly. For the first time since they had met, she was sure she felt the evidence of his arousal behind the placket of his breeches. Her eyes darted down to confirm her suspicion. “Our tea will be growing cold,” she whispered.
He swallowed. “Indeed,” he replied, his face reddening with his embarrassment.
“A quick cup and we’ll head upstairs to your bedchamber,” she suggested.
