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“I would like to be informed the moment she returns,” he commanded, his appetite gone.

“The moment who returns?” came an ill-timed voice from the breakfast room doorway.

His grandmother: always there at the most inopportune time.

The housekeeper rose and bowed her head, gathering up her embroidery before making herself scarce. Anthony had expected a full, lively breakfast table that morning, but it seemed it was going to be a much sparser occasion.

“Anthony?” Harriet prompted, approaching.

He took a second to steady himself. “Marina has gone out and no one knows where she has disappeared to.”

He did not yet mention the letter, in case this was all a simple misunderstanding and she was not corresponding with a mystery recipient when everyone else had retired to bed for the night.

Is that why she has all but locked herself away in her library of late?

Suspicion prickled like a nettle rash along his nerves, his hands clenching into fists.

“She has gone out?” Harriet mustered a dry chuckle. “What is so terrible about that? A young lady, a duchess no less, has many things to attend to. Why, when I was the duchess, I barely had time to sit down.”

Anthony shook his head. “There is something strange about it.”

“What do you mean?”

He dug his fingernails into his palms. “Mrs. Havers intimated that she was behaving oddly. Secretively.”

Excited about something.

A serious expression fell across the old woman’s face, her veiny hand closing tightly around her grandson’s wrist. “Anthony, do not do this.” She sighed. “You know it is not easy for someone to win my approval, and I certainly did not approve of Emilia, but I am confident about Marina. She is a good woman.”

“If that is true, why did she not leave word of where she was going?” he countered.

“Perhaps she had to depart quickly,” Harriet suggested. “Perhaps her uncle asked her to visit in haste. Perhaps a friend is in trouble, and she now has the means to help. There are countless reasons for a hurried departure.”

Some of the tension in Anthony’s muscles began to unwind, the feverish suspicion in his mind starting to cool. Thus far, Marina had not given him any cause to doubt her. And yes, she had been holed up in her library, but she had warned him before they wed that she was dedicated to her work.

“Do not ruin this because of old wrongs that were done to you,” Harriet urged, squeezing his wrist. “She is not Emilia. For one thing, you are falling in love with her.”

Anthony recoiled from the word. “Do not be so sentimental. I am not falling in love. I just… feel a duty of care toward her, that is all.”

“My eyes might not work as well as they used to, but I know love when I see it blooming,” his grandmother replied with a sad smile. “I know you never looked at Emilia the way you look at Marina. I know you never wished to be at Emilia’s side, yet you seek to be close to Marina. I know you are interested in everything Marina does, while you never cared what Emilia did. It is not duty, my dear boy, it is love.”

Anthony carefully pulled his arm out of his grandmother’s grip. “You do not know what you are talking about.” He shook his head. “Love is built upon trust, and I do not trust anyone. What I have with Marina is… a mutual understanding. Do not let yourself believe there is anything more to it, or you will be disappointed.”

“No, my boy, you will be the one disappointed if you do not realize what is right in front of you,” Harriet replied. “As I said before, do not ruin this by mistaking Marina for someone else. At the very least, just… try to embrace the idea of something more. Open your heart to her, and I believe you might be pleasantly surprised.”

Anthony stared at his grandmother in silence, wishing he could tell her that she was wrong, that she had entirely misinterpreted the situation. But when he thought of how his heart had ached when Marina told him the story of her scars, and how he had not wanted to let her go, he could not deny that his grandmother might be right.

There was a part of him that wanted him to open his heart, see where a proper future together might lead, but the past had closed the gates to his heart, and he did not know how to break them apart. He did not even know if he was capable of something like love.

But I could try… could I not?

He supposed he would find out when his wife returned with an answer as to where on earth she had been.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Marina did not return until late that night. From the drawing room where he had been struggling to stay awake, Anthony heard the front door open and listened to the hushed conversation she shared with the butler. He tracked his wife’s stealthy footsteps across the entrance hall and to the creaks of the staircase, before hearing the thud of her walking across the landing.

Every instinct told him to get up and follow her, to demand answers at once, but something held him in place.