Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

" I t is late," Marina agreed softly. "Goodnight, Duke."

He smiled gently at her use of his name, pleased that she was at least no longer using his formal title, but annoyed with the part of him which wanted to hear her call him Phillip . "Goodnight, Marina," he answered in kind. She made to leave but brushed against the corner of a small table. The glass vase sitting atop the surface tumbled then fell to the ground with a shatter.

Phillip blinked. The sound of the shattering glass in that room took him back to another night, years ago, and for a moment he was not paying attention to his surroundings. Not until he noticed his new wife kneeling down on the floor trying to clean up the shards of glass on her own. He rushed forward.

"There is no need for you to do that. It is dangerous. You could be cut!" Almost like a curse as he finished his sentence, she sliced her hand upon a large shard she was reaching for and cried out in pain. "Marina!"

Phillip pulled her up off the floor and gently guided her to a shelf where there was an old sewing kit. From within, he pulled a scrap of fabric. She watched as he wrapped it around her cut and held it firmly in place.

"Does it hurt very much?" he asked. Marina looked up, and their eyes locked together. At last, she saw the man who had nearly beguiled her at the ball in Glastonbury. The one who had so chivalrously saved her from the grasshopper attack. His hand squeezed harder around hers, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

"It is a shallow cut," she assured him. "It is of little consequence."

"Allow me to lead you back to your rooms anyway," he said. "We sometimes do not realize how badly we have been hurt when it first happens, and I would be remiss if you were to faint."

"If you insist," she answered though she was smiling despite herself. Together, they walked back to her door. Before she could turn to open it, he pulled her injured hand to his lips and left a kiss there.

"Hurry and get in bed," he muttered before tenderly placing her hand back at her side and turning to take his leave. Marina did as he asked though she found that her emotions were quite mixed.

Perhaps if he were only an absent husband, she could become accustomed to his behavior. But he was not. When she did see him, he was tender and kind and not at all the man he pretended to be. What was the purpose?

More importantly, why did his tenderness leave her feeling so aflutter?

In the morning, Marina was pleasantly surprised to find that her husband had kept his word and shown up for breakfast.

"How is your hand?" he asked her by way of greeting.

She held it up for him to see as she took her seat across the table. "Well. Mathilde dressed it for me this morning."

"I'm glad to hear." Marina smiled to hear genuine relief in his voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Did you?"

"I did." A plate of food was placed before her and there was silence for a bit as they both ate.

"Thank you," she said at long last.

"Whatever for?"

"Joining me for breakfast this morning." Phillip smiled. A full smile, this time, not just the threat of one. "It is a pleasure to see you here."

"I was told once that when one's wife makes a demand of him in the middle of the night, one follows through lest bad luck befall him for the remainder of his marriage," he teased her with a wink.

"It is fortunate that you are a smart enough man to heed that advice, then," she giggled.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked. "Surely you're quite busy with the estate. I apologize that I will not be of much help for a while. I have many of my own affairs to tidy up over the next fortnight."

And then I will take my leave , he thought, unwilling to voice his intention to leave Marina and his past safe and sound in London, so he could put some distance between himself and these horrible childhood memories.

"I will be looking to hire some lady's maids and set the menu for the week. Luckily, it is just the two of us, and your cook is spritely and has many wonderful ideas. I was thinking of taking a look at the gardens as well and seeing what might be done about them. They were maintained quite well, but could use some updating."

"That is a wonderful idea," he agreed.

"In the afternoon," Marina continued, "I have invited my sister and a friend for tea. Perhaps you could join us."

"I am afraid that I will be out at parliament this afternoon. Perhaps another time."

Marina felt that their conversation was dwindling. Perhaps he was losing interest. Her father always said that men detested discussing the monotony of domestic life with their wives (though he had always indulged his). She was sure that when breakfast was over, she would not see him again until the morning, and she still had one more thing to ask of him. Now was her chance.

"That is very well. Surely you are available to accompany me to the ball to be hosted by the Harringtons tomorrow evening. Their eldest daughter, Miss Kathrin, is a very dear friend of mine."

There was a pause, and silence stretched like an unwanted intruder between the two of them. Burdened by it, Marina continued, "Olivia is sure that she will get an offer of marriage after this ball if her favorite suitor fills her dance card again. And Kathrin?—"

"I do not think I will be able to attend."

Marina stared, waiting for him to elaborate, and when he did not, she asked, "Why ever not? I did not think you had other engagements."

"You are correct. I do not have other engagements."

"Then what is it?"

"I simply do not see the appeal. I do not like to dance. I do not like large crowds of curious people staring at us or drinking too much and becoming loud, belligerent pests."

"What am I to do?"

"I do not know what you mean."

"It would be improper of me to attend the first ball since our wedding without you."

"Won't your family be there?"

"Yes."

"Then I do not see what would be improper about it. Who will be there who is above your station? Will the Queen be in attendance?"

"No, but?—"

"Then go. Enjoy yourself. Spend time with your sister and your dear friend. In fact, we have not settled the matter of your allowance. Go into town tomorrow and order a dress. I will determine the amount you need based on the cost, so get the most expensive garb you can think of."

"Phillip," she said, startling him into looking up from his plate at her for the first time in several minutes, "I do not wish to have the most expensive dress at the ball. I wish to attend with my husband. Why do I have the feeling that it is too much to ask of you?"

"Because it is," he snapped. His eyes narrowed, throwing a harsh look at her. "I have given you my answer, Marina. It is final. I suggest that you do not bring it up again."

She was appalled by his sudden cruelty and angered by the sensation of tears prickling in her eyes, threatening to gather and then fall. Without a word, Marina stood from her place and left the breakfast room. The Duke did not call after her, nor did he follow. She could not, for the life of her, fathom what was going on with his behavior—kind one minute and cold the next.