“Perhaps you are right, my sweet friend,” Marina sighed.
“But what do you think of him, Marina? What do you know of his character?” Olivia stared at her with a twinkle in her eye that made Marina nervous.
“What could you mean? He is my husband.”
“Do you find your husband charming?Handsome? Is there romance budding between the two of you now that you have spent some time alone?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marina gasped. “Ours was not a marriage of love. We met only once before he made the arrangement with my father. You know this. I only want to know him as a friend so that our lives together will be amicable.”
Olivia’s watchful eyes noticed the flush that came unbidden to Marina’s cheeks, but she said nothing else on the matter, insteadgoing on to distract her from the troubles of her marriage with a story of her visit to the opera the night before. Her favorite suitor had appeared in the Linfield box and sat and spoke with her father about politics and society for half of the show. It was all but a declaration of his impending proposal.
Kathrin, too, had good news. Her older brother’s wife had given birth to a healthy young baby, and she would be off to meet her new niece soon. Marina was comforted that at least the people she loved most dearly were doing well, even if it was without her by their side. It felt like a sign that if she only persisted, she would soon find happiness in her new little life.
Marina saw her friend and sister off early in the evening, visited with Mathilde to complete some last-minute details for her household duties, then dined alone at the large mahogany table in the dining room. Her sullen mood did not permit her to sleep, once again, and so she found herself wandering her home late at night just like before.
Without a destination in mind, Marina’s feet took her down the stairs and once more to the room where the portrait was hung. The cloth had been taken, but the painting remained. She wondered who had painted it. Reaching out to touch the frame wistfully, Marina tried to imagine what young Phillip had been like. Had he posed for the painting dutifully, or was his father’s chagrin due in part to chasing a young boy around to get a family portrait done?
She could remember sitting for a family portrait or two herself, and she knew that she had certainly not made it easy on her poor Mama and Papa.
“Hello again, Miss Ward of the Night.”
Startled, Marina turned with a hand to her chest to see Phillip approaching her with a grin on his face.
“Please,” she gasped. “You cannot continue to frighten me so, or I shall perish before we reach our first year of marriage.”
He chuckled, coming to stand beside her and looking up at the portrait she had just been examining. “My sincerest apologies. We cannot have that.” Marina tried to study his face as he looked at the three figures in the portrait before them, but he revealed nothing to her. When she remained silent for too long, he spoke again.
“What is it that draws you to the corridors at midnight?”
It was her turn to smile. “It has always been so. When I was young, I would wake from nightmares, and my mother would find me wandering about the estate. Usually looking for her room. She would usher me back to bed at first, but eventually she started to take me down to the drawing-room and read to me. When I got older and was reading for myself, we would talk about the books I loved. It has been my favorite part of the day ever since. More so now that she has passed.”
“Allow me to officially offer my condolences,” he said softly, his eyes locked on the woman in the painting. “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“Yes.” Marina followed his gaze but landed, instead, on the chubby cheeks of a version of Phillip which was long gone. “This is a beautiful painting. They must be your parents?”
“They are,” he answered at length.
“Your mother was radiant.”
“She was. Thank you.”
A chill passed between them, and Marina realized her mistake. Behind the deep forest-green color of his eyes, she could see that Phillip was harboring a pain he had not yet shared with her. If he was not ready to discuss this, she would not force him to do so.
“I’m afraid that it is getting too late even for me. I shall retire. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Grace.” She began to walk away, but before she reached the stairs, she heard his voice, soft and gentle, calling behind her.
“Please, don’t go yet.”
CHAPTER 11
Marina turned, and for a second she saw something unfamiliar darken Phillip’s features. She could not put her finger on the right emotion, but he did not give her the chance to. Instead, he held his hand out to her as if he expected her to go back and take it.
“Please,” he said again. “There is something I would very much like to show you.”
She nodded and went to him. He held her hand in his, and they walked to the library together.
“Will you only call me Phillip when you are cross with me?” he asked as they walked.
“I beg your pardon?”
