Page 16

“Have you ever seen her again?” Marina asked.

Bernard shook his head. “Never. She went to live in Northumberland, I believe, and the few times I ventured in society afterward, she was up there, tending to her children.” He shuddered as if trying to rid himself of his thoughts. “Anyway, enough about me and my old woes. What were we talking about? Ah yes, the duke. How was it?”

“I do not think we get along very well,” she replied honestly.

Bernard quirked an eyebrow. “That cannot be true. The dowager said that you were spoken of often in their household.”

“That does not mean I am spoken of kindly,” she pointed out with a laugh.

Indeed, if you only knew, Uncle…

“No, Her Grace seemed very enthusiastic,” Bernard insisted. “She said you were the only candidate with any merit that attended the audition, and she was sorry you were not able to stay longer.”

“Because the duke kicked me out,” Marina said, and immediately grimaced.

She had not told her uncle that part, not in such blunt terms anyway.

“What?” Bernard’s eyes widened. “He kicked you out of his house?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “It was all such a shock to him, because he was entirely unaware of the event. He was cross at the surprise, not at those who attended.” She took a breath. “What I meant to say is that he… asked us all to leave. He did not actually throw me out of his home, though I would not have blamed him if he had.”

“Still, he might have been more courteous,” her uncle murmured, frowning. “Goodness, I am sorry that I put you in such a situation.”

“There is no need to apologize,” she assured, troubled by the sadness in his eyes. “And it was not entirely useless, for the duke has asked me to visit.”

She had said it to cheer her uncle, but the moment the words left her lips, she wished she could snatch them back and shove them into her mouth.

Bernard sat up straighter, excitement widening his eyes and brightening his expression. “He has asked you to come to his London residence? When? Will it be a dinner party? To have tea? Shall I accompany you, or will the dowager be your chaperone?”

“Nothing has been decided,” Marina replied, groaning inwardly. “I expect he will write.”

Bernard sat back against the squabs, clearly thrilled. “Then, I shall check the post just as soon as it comes. Oh, I have a good feeling about this, Rini. Truly, I do. They are such a fine family and Knotgill has such excellent gardens; I am sure you could grow countless herbs and plants there for your experiments.”

Marina stared down into her lap, holding back a scoff. She knew that marriage would be an end to those experiments, those vital remedies. No matter how expansive the gardens might be, she would only be permitted to admire them.

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” she said quietly.

For I am sorry, Uncle, but I have already rejected the man, and I do not see him making a second offer of marriage, or me accepting it.

“Yes,” Bernard said with a sigh, “I have a very good feeling about this.”

Watching London go by outside the carriage window, Marina wished that he would not; it would only upset him later.

Seated at his desk, toiling through a pile of correspondence, Anthony’s mind kept wandering to Hyde Park and Marina Longman. He had hoped that the distraction would remove her from his thoughts, but the letters were so dull that it was proving to be a fruitless task.

Why not simply become a spinster, if she loathes the idea of marriage so much?

He shook his head, exasperated. She was a conundrum. A particularly annoying one. Especially when he thought of that disarming smile.

“Why on earth did I invite her to the house?” he groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead. “What was I thinking?”

Just then, he heard a creak outside his study door. He raised his gaze from the tedious letter he had been trying to write and frowned at the small gap between the door and the floor. A shadow moved, the floor creaking again.

Quietly getting up from his chair, Anthony crept across the room and rested his hand on the door handle.

In one swift movement, he wrenched the door open… to reveal his son, sitting right there on the floor amidst a sea of papers, squinting in deep concentration at an abacus.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked firmly.