Page 53 of His Bluestocking Bride

His expression turned inward, though he remained facing the fireplace. “Mm. And as a young man. And an adult. Conceivably as a married man, too, while you both wait upon the finest ladies of London society.”

Unable to help it, Ellen shuddered at the very thought. “Your mother, is she in great demand still? Even as a dowager countess?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. She is a great favorite to many. I think it’s because she isn’t a toad eater. Mother is always honest in her words and relationships. That’s rare in society, especially when a person is able to be that way and remain kind.”

Although she didn’t speak, Ellen wished to ask why he would spread flattery around so liberally with the example of his mother’s finer behavior before him. Instead she leaned into the back cushion more, allowing her eyes to linger on her husband.

“I have always liked your mother. I cannot be surprised others find her as I do.”

Marcus stretched his arm over the back of the sofa, his forearm resting above her shoulders. He leaned back and sighed.

“They will like you, too, Ellen. You are kind, intelligent, and have a good heart. People will see that. The cats in society will hate it, poke their fun, and then leave you alone when you don’t rise to meet their behavior. But the truly noble women, and men, will admire you.”

Though her heart warmed at his words, she reminded herself this was but the latest in a long list of compliments bestowed by him tonight. The words sounded sincere, but she couldn’t allow herself to be overly moved by them.

She forced a smile. “I have no need for admiration. I’m content if I have a few friends and if I do the family credit when I am out in society. That is enough for me.”

He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, filled with an emotion she could not place. Admiration? No, it must be fondness. He lowered his hand from the furniture and placed his arm around her in a way he never had before. The gesture made her stomach flip.

“You are a wonder, Ellen. I am forever grateful we met at your cousin’s. I am glad of it, and glad to have you for a companion.”

She sighed and lowered her hands to her lap. They were both being too serious, and she must dispel the air of such talk quickly, lest things become uncomfortable for either of them. He spoke of her as a companion, as one might speak of any chum or even a favored hound.

“You’re glad of it because I don’t make frivolous demands of you. Perhaps I ought to. I ought to demand that you take me to the park tomorrow, during the fashionable hour, and parade me about to all of London.” He blinked at her in surprise, though his lips twitched slightly.

She continued her list with enthusiasm. “Or I could insist on visiting the Palace gardens, as I hear they are lovely even in the depths of winter. Or we could attend the saloons I have heard so much of or go to Gunter’s to see and be seen.” His smile grew with each idea, his eyes twinkling at her. “Let us go to the zoo and look at the tiger. Or to the university to tour the grounds and sit in lectures. I might even persuade you to take me to a surgical theater.”

His words finally burst out. “Surgical theater? I cannot think of another woman of my acquaintance who would suggest such a thing, even in jest.”

He started laughing and drew nearer her, his leg brushing against hers and his arm tightening around her shoulders. Her stomach performed that strange flip again and her head felt light, as it did when she imbibed one glass of wine too many at her sister’s wedding. She laughed too, more out of nerves than anything. Her husband sobered after a moment, looking down at her, the last vestiges of humor still glittering in his eyes.

“Ellen, you must know, I would take you wherever you wished to go.”

Ellen could not hide her surprise. “Would you? Even to the surgery? Or to university lectures?”

“Yes. Anything, anywhere. I have seen and done all that I can in London. It would be diverting, and an honor, to squire my wife about town and allow you to see everything you wish.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “There are many things to see in London.”

Although tired, Ellen could not bear to leave an opportunity to learn more about her husband. “Which are your favorite places? Where have you been?”

“I enjoyed the Pall Mall Picture Galleries.”

Ellen tilted her head up, meeting his look with surprise. “You did? The art museum?”

“Of course. And there is the Royal Museum, as we spoke of before. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She was still trying to picture him walking around an art gallery and commenting upon the English masters hanging there. “What else?”

“Most places in London are made for people to go and be seen. But there are quiet corners here and there. Private galleries, parks that see little use when everyone is busy parading down Rotten Row. Shops hidden at the ends of streets.”

“And you seek such quiet places out?” she asked, her voice growing soft. Ellen liked picturing him on his own, in solitary rambles throughout the city. “We may have more in common than I thought.”

Marcus looked down at her and she detected surprise in his expression. But the hour grew late and her eyes heavy. She closed them and rested her head on his shoulder, resisting the voice in her head that said she ought to go to bed. She did not want their conversation to end, knowing how busy the days to come would be, and realizing that when they shared their time with others he would not be this attentive.

She had fallen asleep against his shoulder once, in the carriage, and he had not seemed to mind. Surely he wouldn’t mind her leaning upon him this once. She would rest her eyes for a moment.

When he spoke, he matched her tone. “I believe we do have a great deal in common. I suppose that is why we have always been comfortable around each other.”

Ellen wished he were not quite so comfortable. She wished, most ardently, that he found her interesting and invigorating. Comfortable was not the word she would use to describe her feelings for him, after all.