“I have asked my husband to spend more time with me. He agreed. And I think we might get along quite well after all.”
The Duke and Duchess regarded one another with friendly affection, but every now and then, they found themselves in a position not unlike their moment in the library. Phillip was enjoying himself so thoroughly that he hardly noticed that his behavior was toeing the edge of inappropriate. He was still resolved to keep her at a distance, but it was as if he had forgotten why this was true. His joy with her even extendedto her family when they would come to visit. He found Olivia delightfully funny, and Emily and Nicholas always eager to play or tell stories. Furthermore, Marina came alive when her family was nearby. He started to imagine what she would be like with their own children, had he wanted them, but always reminded himself that he did not.
Still, it was a harmless fantasy when there was nothing else to occupy his mind. Occasionally, she would surprise him with small trinkets—a first bloom from one of her new plants in the garden, a colorful stone she found on one of her walks, and even little mementos of his mother’s which had been tucked away into cracks and crevices of the home. It seemed like a life he could easily fall into.
He often found himself distracted from his studies, watching her mull about outside. She seemed to prefer the fresh air whenever possible and did not often lounge around in their home. He also noticed that she had many hobbies—sewing, reading, writing, drawing. Phillip could only imagine that there were more, and he wondered when she had found the time to learn the arts while she was caring for her siblings. Then again, how did she find the time to partake these days while she was attending to her new duties as Duchess?
The simple answer—Marina was remarkable. At least, her husband felt so.
One morning, Phillip all but skipped into the dining room at breakfast with a wide grin on his face. Marina immediately questioned him.
“Why do you look so giddy?”
The Duke sat down at his end of the table, the corners of his mouth fixed in their lifted position. “It is a secret.”
Marina scoffed. “A secret!” she repeated with disdain. Phillip waited for her to ask again, but she seemed in a stubborn mood, so he decided to coax her irritation out of her.
“I have a secret that I think you will enjoy,” he went on.
“If you are not going to tell me the secret, you should not speak of it,” she pouted. “I would rather not know…”
“Okay, then, shall I tell you?”
“Tell me.”
“My secret is a surprise.”
Marina’s eyes snapped up to look at him, her face twisted into a cross between amusement and bitter agitation. “Fine. Do not tell me,” she muttered.
“I will. But you will need to wait, or you will ruin the surprise.”
“In the future, dear husband, please know that I would prefer you not to tell me about any surprises in advance.” She looked as if she were scolding him, but Phillip could see the beginningsof a smile struggling to stay off her face. He did not speak again until Marina, at last, broke the silence out of desperation.
“I beg of you, put me out of this miserable anticipation and tell me what it is.”
“I would if I could,” Phillip pressed. “This is not something I can tell. It is something I must show.”
“Then what possessed you to tell me about this and then proceed to spend an hour eating your fruit one by one?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him playfully.
“I am not at fault just because you scarfed your breakfast down and expected me to do the same.”
“I would never perform an action of the like,” Marina protested. “I ate with efficiency, and now, I am ready for my surprise.”
Phillip chuckled. “As you wish, my dear wife. Let us go and see your surprise.” He stood, at last, and walked around to the other side of the table to help her out of her chair and take her hand. Together, they made their way to the gift he’d promised.
CHAPTER 16
Marina wrinkled her nose when they arrived at the door to his study, but she said nothing for fear that if she teased him too much, he would delay her present even further. He took her by the hand and led her to what she’d previously thought was a window. Sliding the curtain aside and gently undoing the latch to a set of doors, he revealed a large balcony. Marina could not help but think that a small tea could be held there. But there was something more—something beyond the top of the cement railing.
“Come,” Phillip insisted, beckoning her to join him. She stepped out, and as she walked up to the rail, she looked out upon the grounds. The garden was directly beneath them, painting a portrait in vivid oil colors. Beyond that, fields of luscious grass, rolling hills, and large, strong trees filled her vision. The thin, pale light of the early morning covered it all like a shimmering veil. As the sun crept up, Marina watched the sky fill with vibrant pinks and oranges. It was like magic. For a while—she had no idea how long—the Duchess stood and watched, her heart full with an emotion she could not name.
It felt a bit like being a part of everything, as if Marina herself were both painted and the subject of this portrait.
“Is it pleasing?” Phillip asked, at long last.
“Certainly,” Marina breathed, still transfixed on the scene. “This is gorgeous, Phillip. The view is…it’s magnificent.”
“It is,” he said quietly. She turned, a bright smile illuminating her features, so she could answer him. But his gaze stopped her. Phillip’s dark eyes were trained on her, not on the sky or the fields or forest. Not even on the gardens she had worked so hard to create.Her. He was looking at her.
