Page 64 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

“Why must we suffer too?” Owen complained while stuffing two more biscuits into his mouth.

Brandon promptly got up and kicked his friend’s feet, forcing him to stand.

“My wife wants to show us her garden,” he warned.

Marigold smiled at her husband’s eagerness and saw him take a step toward her, ready to take her arm, but Lily moved faster and linked arms with her. Marigold shook her head at how disappointed Brandon looked, but inside, she was feeling some weird kind of delight.

The happy quartet walked out into the gardens with light steps, friendly teasing, and the sun shining upon them. Marigold was never one for big gestures or expensive things. Her heart was content right in this moment, a new friend by her side and her husband escorting her proudly.

They reached the small patch that Marigold had claimed for herself. She was quite proud of her little garden. The shed was renovated and expanded, the rows were neat and evenly spaced, and the crop was bountiful.

She pulled Lily and showed her around, explaining what she had grown, even giving her fresh tender leaves to taste. No one complained about all the dirt and the meaning of all this. Lily was really excited and kept asking Owen if she could do the same in their garden, earning her a stern refusal.

All the while, Brandon was standing, watching her. And again, that smile. Warm. Genuine. It was the kind of smile that softened the severe angles of his face into something that seemed almost tender.

Marigold felt as if she were the only person there, as if Lily and Owen arguing in the back had disappeared. As if his only focus was her laughter and joy. She smiled back. Brandon realized that he had been caught red-handed.

He coughed awkwardly, looking down before straightening his jacket. He then looked out into the gardens, avoiding her look, suddenly absorbed by the nearby bushes.

But Marigold had seen it. She had seen him.

CHAPTER 19

PLANS TO WORRY

Lily and Owen stayed for lunch, but then they had to go since they were invited to a ball that very night, an event that Lily very begrudgingly agreed to participate in. Owen seemed more enthusiastic for obvious reasons.

So, in the early evening, Marigold sat in Verdant House which was as warm as a blanket. She had another book on her lap, but she was not reading. She was thinking of that day, cataloging its significance in her life, simple and uneventful as it was.

And then she thought of Brandon. How he, too, suffered and was deprived of the things that had nothing to do with money. And she couldn’t help being jealous of him as they grew up. Not because of his immense wealth, but because of Owen and Lily, two steadfast best friends who included him in their little circle with no second thought.

And somewhere in these wanderings of her mind, she realized that Brandon offered her his name and station, his title and affluence, but the greatest treasure that he shared with her was those two friends.

“Your Grace,” Beth entered the drawing room, “His Grace would like to inform you that he is going to take his dinner in the study, and you shouldn’t wait for him.”

“Thank you, Beth,” Marigold said. “Let His Grace know that I was informed of his intentions.”

Marigold closed the already useless book with a decisive thud. It was as if the Duke had reached the quota of meals he was supposed to share with her, and now, he was withdrawing.

She stood up and walked down the corridor that led to his study, and for a long moment, she stood in front of that door. It was not that she had initiated a conversation like this before. She was always the one who waited for him.

But then she remembered the look he had on in the garden. That look that he attempted to hide from her, and that action alone told her more than his words would. Marigold raised her hand and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” came his voice from within.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, Marigold opened the door and stepped inside. The study was in no better shape than the last time she had entered here. The fire was lit, and candles were all around, an idea that Marigold found at least a fire risk, given all the papers lying around.

“Marigold.” He looked up from his work, clearly surprised by her presence.

She closed the door behind her.

“I think we need to talk,” she said simply.

“I have just informed you that I will be busy for the rest of the night.”

“Consider myself informed.”

“Then what are you doing here?”