Page 65 of His Bluestocking Bride

“Marcus, what are you doing?” she whispered.

“Making sure everyone understands how special you are to me.” He grinned down at her, but the feeling of victory faded when he realized she appeared distressed.

“Please, stop.” Ellen’s hand on his arm gripped him tighter as she spoke. “Everyone will think it strange. I don’t need such praise.”

“What do you need, Ellen?” he asked, raising a hand to cover hers, but she withdrew at his touch and stood instead with her hands clasped before her.

“More guests,” she said, nodding to the doors.

Marcus couldn’t care less about the new arrivals. Taking her hand and dragging her back to the library for honest conversation would be more in harmony with his wishes. But he knew his duty. He fixed a smile upon his face and gave his attention to the new arrivals.

He heard his wife sigh, deeply, and it made his heart ache. Ellen wasn’t happy. She wasn’t pleased with him, with society, with London. What was he to do?

At last his mother turned to them both. “I think it’s time to go in and begin the dancing. Enough guests have arrived. But I expect Marcus to introduce you to as many people as possible, Ellen.”

Ellen nodded once, then moved as if to enter the ballroom on her own.

Marcus caught her elbow and she started, her surprised eyes meeting his.

“We go in together, darling,” he reminded her, wondering where her attention had gone.

“Of course.” She put her hand through his arm. Lucas escorted his mother inside. It would fall to Ellen to lead the first dance, and Marcus would partner her. But before they made it entirely to the dance floor, she paused and looked up at him.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said, her voice nearly lost in the sounds of the ballroom. “I have arranged to borrow a carriage from Lucas so you will have use of ours.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard correctly. Marcus’s heart pounded painfully against his ribs and he shook his head, not understanding. “But—”

“I’m going to my sister, Teresa. She is expecting her child’s arrival soon and I am at last a fit companion for her.” She smiled, but the warmth of the expression did not make it into her eyes. “After, I will return to Orchard Hill for a time, but it will be good to be with family.” Ellen tugged on his arm and moved him toward the floor, where people were forming the lines for the first dance.

Marcus wanted to shout in frustration that he didn’t understand, that they needed to discuss the matter, but instead he had to put on a mask of contentment as he joined his bride for a Scottish reel.

Leaving? Without warning? Without consulting me? And Lucas—

His eyes searched the crowd for his brother, whom he saw watching him. Marcus narrowed his eyes and frowned, which made Lucas raise his eyebrows and tip his head forward as if to say, I warned you and you didn’t act quickly enough.

“Marcus,” his wife whispered, stepping forward to clasp his hand. “Dance.”

He obeyed. Up and down the line they went, clasping hands with others, and all the while he could not quite meet his wife’s eyes.

Why hadn’t she mentioned leaving before now? True, they had barely seen each other for more than a few minutes since their last conversation in the library. Ellen had stayed busy with his mother and preparations for the ball, and he had been out more than usual with Lucas. But there must have been some opportunity before now to tell him, to speak to him? Especially if she managed to arrange things with Lucas.

The traitor, Marcus thought. The young woman currently holding his hand blanched and he realized he had been scowling down at her. He quickly resumed his pleasant demeanor.

The dance ended, he bowed to his wife, and an instant later another gentleman asked for her hand. Ellen danced away from him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Marcus turned to Collin Falkham.

“Good evening, Marcus. Sorry we missed the first dance.”

Marianne stood at his side. He looked between them both. “I need to speak with the two of you, if you please.” Without another word, he turned and walked to the corner of the room. When he reached his desired location, a place no one yet stood to gossip, he looked back and saw his friends hurrying to keep up. He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

“What is it, Marcus?” Marianne asked, raising a hand to her heart. “Is there trouble?”

“There’s more than trouble,” he said, his voice as low as he could make it and still be heard. “Ellen is leaving.”

Collin turned to look at the dance floor. “She appears to be dancing with the Baron of Gattersby.”

“I don’t think he means at this moment, my dear,” Marianne said, fixing Marcus with a curious stare. “When, Marcus? Where is she going?”