Page 60 of His Bluestocking Bride

Marcus came around the column next, appearing less cheerful in countenance than his friend. “Ah. Here they are. Lady Falkham, would you do me the honor of joining me for the supper dance?”

“I see.” Marianne looked between them and then at Ellen, relief in her eyes. “They mean to take us into supper together.”

“It was Marcus’s idea,” Collin said. Then his eyes focused on Ellen’s and his smile vanished. “Cousin Ellen, what’s wrong?”

Ellen didn’t know when she had stopped trying to appear pleasant, as though all was well with the world. Perhaps when Marcus arrived and would not meet her eyes. He looked up when Collin spoke, though, the concern apparent on his handsome face.

“Ellen?” He moved to block the view of anyone behind them who might glance their way. “Ellen, are you well?”

It was all she could do to keep from begging to leave, to go home to the quiet of a house where she would not be on display. London was not what she had hoped for. In the days since their arrival, they had not been able to go to any of the places Marcus told her about. They had managed shopping for her dresses and a stop at a bookseller. Otherwise, she had been with her mother-in-law, attending teas and visiting with people she didn’t care to know.

Just as she had done before she married.

“I am well enough,” she answered. Ellen forced the corners of her mouth upward and straightened her posture. “I’m going to dance with Collin, after all.” She turned from her husband and held her hand out to her cousin, who took it with a firm nod.

“That’s the spirit, Ellen,” her cousin said. As he led her away, she cast one look over her shoulder to find Marcus and Marianne trailing behind them. Marianne’s lips were moving rapidly, though she smiled, and Marcus’s brows were pinched together as he listened.

“Selene was here,” Ellen said, turning to look at Collin. “Did you see her?”

A grimace passed over his face and was gone so speedily she could barely be sure she saw it. “I did. I also saw your husband nearly give her the cut direct, which would’ve been disastrous for you both considering he is untitled and she is a countess.”

Ellen’s heart gave a happy thrum at that news. “Marcus no longer admires her?”

Collin’s expression changed to one of obvious surprise. “Ellen.” They took their positions on the floor. “How could he, when he has you?”

The music began and Ellen did not have opportunity to answer that question, for her cousin or for herself.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marcus made his way to breakfast later than usual, but that was to be expected after an evening at a ball. He dreaded knowing in two days’ time he and Ellen would be made spectacles of at the ball his mother threw in their honor. It wasn’t for himself he worried, but for Ellen. By supper the night before, she’d been wilting and hardly said two words to him, though he and Collin managed to make certain she was seated between them.

And in the carriage home, she had leaned against her side of the conveyance and claimed a headache when he asked after her. Why had she not leaned on him? He would’ve happily held her against the bumps and jolts of the road.

London was too much for her. Marcus had to admit it was often too much for him, and he was more used to it than she.

“Good morning, Marcus.” Lucas sat at the breakfast table looking through a stack of handwritten notes.

“Good morning.” Marcus looked at the table and then to the sideboard. “Has Ellen been down yet?”

“She sent for a tray.” Lucas turned a page over and continued reading. “As did Mother.”

Mother always sent for a tray, but Ellen never had. Not in all the time they’d been married, at Orchard Hill or in town. Had her headache had grown worse? Ought he to check on her?

“Are we going to talk about what happened at the ball?” Lucas asked. Marcus’s eyes darted back to his brother, but Lucas still wasn’t looking at him.

“What happened at the ball that is worth speaking of?” he asked, folding his arms. “It was a ball.”

Lucas sighed in a long-suffering manner. It was the same sigh that accompanied most of his brotherly lectures. Marcus usually didn’t mind them, but today the sound of that sigh made his eye twitch.

“Sit down, Marc. We need to talk.”

Marcus obliged, but chose a seat several chairs from Lucas. “Very well. What are we talking about? The perfectly ordinary ball?”

“That is as good as place as any to start.” Lucas reached up to massage his temples. “I had my doubts about your marriage. Not because of Ellen. I must make that clear. I’ve always liked her; even as a child she showed more intelligence than most. But the way you entered your marriage with her left me disappointed.”

Marcus folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the chair. “I entered it in a church.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” Lucas shook his head and tapped the table to emphasize his point. “I mean the haste you used, Marcus. You rushed headlong into this. You gave Ellen no time to consider what she was doing. Then you told me, the very day on which you were wed, that you’d informed her of your feelings. Or lack of feelings.”