Page 19

“Still, you must see what an opportunity this is.” Her mother leaned forward, her eyes brightening. “You could leave behind all the dreadful gossip that has followed you for six years. You could have a family again, a home where no one whispers about curses whenever you pass.”

“I already have a home.”

“Of course you do. And I know you have made yourself comfortable here. But you cannot deny that you once wanted more.”

Marina glanced toward the window, where the glasshouse stood beneath its covering of snow. Her mother was right about that much. Once, she had imagined a house filled with children, a husband who cared for her, and a future quite different from the one she had been given.

But she had also learned how dangerous it could be to place one’s happiness in another person’s hands.

Sophia, meanwhile, was frowning.

“Before we begin celebrating, Mama, perhaps we ought to remember which duke we are discussing.”

Lady Dashwood turned toward her. “What do you mean?”

“The Beast of Griffin. Surely you have heard the stories.”

“I have heard a great many stories about a great many people,” she replied. “Most of them are nonsense.”

“Perhaps. But they say his own family abandoned him. His mother and sister left Griffin Manor years ago, and he has scarcely been seen since. People claim he is quite dreadful.”

Marina remembered the duke’s broad shoulders, his commanding manner, and the sharpness of his gaze. He could certainly be intimidating when he wished. Yet she also remembered how readily he had laughed at her jokes, and the way he had spoken about the children who visited her garden.

“He is not particularly agreeable,” she admitted. “And he is certainly accustomed to having his own way.”

“That sounds promising,” Sophia muttered.

“But I did not find him cruel.”

“You met him only once,” Sophia reminded her.

“I know.”

“And you would be leaving everything familiar to live in his house, where you know no one.”

Marina looked down at her hands. That was precisely what troubled her, although she had struggled to explain it even to herself.

For six years, this cottage had been hers. She could study her herbs, tend her glasshouse, read until the candles burned low, and spend entire days without answering to anyone. People might fear her, and they might speak cruelly of her, but here she could close her door upon them. No one could decide what she must do or whom she must please.

What if she surrendered all that freedom only to discover that her new husband was as cruel as the first? And this one was unlikely to drop dead at a moment’s notice right as they stood before the altar.

Yet another thought had troubled her since the duke’s visit. He lived alone in an enormous house, avoided society, and was spoken of with the same mixture of fear and fascination that had followed her for years. She knew very little about him, but she could not help wondering whether he had retreated from the world for reasons not entirely unlike her own.

Perhaps he understood loneliness better than most.

“I do not know whether the rumors are true,” she said at last. “He has a condition that makes sunlight painful for him, and I believe he has spent much of his life keeping to himself.”

“Which hardly makes him a beast,” Anna observed.

“No,” Marina agreed. “It does not.”

Sophia studied her. “You sound rather inclined to defend him.”

“I am merely pointing out that people are not always what others claim them to be. Surely, of all people, I ought to know that.”

Her sister could hardly argue with that.

Anna reached across the table and took Marina’s hand. “My darling, I do not wish to see you make another unhappy match. But neither do I wish to see you spend the rest of your life hiding here because people have been unkind to you. You have always wanted children. This might be the chance you thought you had lost.”