wanted to grasp it,
to clutch it to her chest and not let go.
Then a voice said, “Ah, a chance to dance with my
daughter.”
“Papa.” She turned to her father with a smile. “I
haven’t seen you all evening.”
“I’ve been in the salon with the older gentlemen.
Card playing is vastly preferable to dancing when you
reach my age. However, never let it be said I shirk my
duty.” He sketched a bow to Marcus. “I’ve come to give
your mother a twirl or two, Constance, but she’s busy
talking about dresses, and has told me I must wait for
her attention.”
Constance laughed at his feigned outrage.
“Such a blow to my pride,” her father joked to
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Marcus.
“I’m reliably informed, sir, that such blows are good
for a man.” Marcus smiled down at Constance with
such warmth that it took her breath away.
Then her father extended his hand to her, and she was
forced to leave Marcus.
For the first part of the quadrille, Constance focused
on getting the steps right. It was a minute or two before
she could relax.
“We miss you in Piper’s Mead, my dear,” her father
said as they began the second figure, L’été—Summer.
“And I miss you.”
Her father sighed. “When I considered that the Lord
might provide husbands for my daughters, I did not
consider the painful loss your mother and I would
suffer.”
Constance squeezed his hand. “It seems you will
always have Charity.”
Her father harrumphed. “I’m not pinning my hopes
on the fact she’s determined upon spinsterhood at age
fifteen.”
Constance laughed. “She’s going to be very pretty, so
I suspect you’re wise not to rely on her company.”
The next figure— La Poule, the hen—commenced.
“I must admit to some trepidation when we embarked
on this visit to London,” her father said.
Constance quailed under his scrutiny. “You mean,
because of Mama’s travel sickness?”
The shake of his head was gentle reproof. “Your
letters haven’t said much.”
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The truth was too difficult, and I could not lie. “I’m
sorry,” she managed.
“After your wedding, you looked unhappy,” her
father said. “Marcus the same. I hoped it was mere
jitters. I’m very conscious neither of you knew the other
well before you married. Also, you were fonder of your
husband than he was of you, and that can be difficult.”
Constance’s face burned. “Papa, you mustn’t worry
about me.”
“Oh, I don’t.” His reply surprised her, and she missed
a step.
It took her a few seconds to catch up.
“Seeing you with Spenford on this visit, it’s plain to
see things have worked out beautifully,” her father said.
“As they invariably do when God’s hand is upon us, of
course.”
“In what way is your conclusion plain to see? ”
Constance asked.
“I see your feelings for the earl are as strong as ever,”
he said. “And I see he returns those feelings.”
Constance stumbled over her own feet again—and
there were still two figures to go! “Papa, Marcus isn’t a
man to wear his heart on his sleeve.” He wasn’t a man
to return her feelings at all. Was he?
“Certainly not,” her father agreed. “Your mother was
right, in that he has a degree of pride that is perhaps not
desirable. But when your husband looks at you,
Connie—” he hadn’t called her that since she was a
little girl, and now it brought tears to her eyes “—I see
love.”
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“Perhaps you overstate,” she murmured.
Her father eyed her curiously. “As you know,
overstatement is a habit I deplore in a preacher. Your
husband has showed me in his actions that he loves you.
And actions, as you know…”
“…are more important than words,” Constance
completed.
Marcus’s actions… He’d invited her family here in a
misguided attempt to please her. He’d invited Serena,
which was going beyond any call of duty. He hadn’t
displayed any haughtiness toward her family. He’d
taken Harper fishing, and, according to Bligh, had
inquired repeatedly after his valet’s health. He’d firmly
taken her side in Amanda’s presence. He’d accepted her
refusal to wear the diamond necklace that honored his
family. And just now, he’d been unconcerned by her
possible insult to the powerful Lady Jersey.
He loves me! Papa is right. The thought took
tentative root in her heart. Could it be true? She had to
assume he didn’t know he loved her. He wouldn’t want
to love her. That could be a problem.
But I love him, too. And this time, it wasn’t a girlish
infatuation. This time, she loved the man who had
shown himself to be the best husband for her.
If I love him and he loves me, then we can make this
work.
The sooner the better.
IT WAS NEARLY three o’clock, and the revelers were
thinning out; Marcus was eager to find Constance for
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their last dance. The evening had been an unqualified
success—a last waltz with his wife would crown it.
Besides, he’d seen her dance at least