"I am not comfortable with this."
Rain smiled up at her disgruntled husband. "I refuse to cancel my garden party simply because of a minor wound. I am perfectly fine, only a little sore."
He gave her a dark look. "Maybe if I had not injured you further last night. I should have controlled myself, I—"
Her hand on his arm stopped him short, and she leaned a little closer, making him lower his head towards her. "I told you not to hold back," she reminded him gently, and her cheeks heated as she added, "And I never want you to. I thoroughly enjoyed myself."
Was that a slight redness to his neck? She had to hide a grin. Having discovered his weakness for her made her feel more in charge of the situation, and she loved it. Maybe a little too much. Last night, they had slept in the same bed for the first time, and she was almost a little disappointed that he had been a perfect gentleman. He had held her close against him, but had not tried to seduce or even kiss her. Tonight, she would ask him to join her again. And maybe kiss her.
She looked up at his handsome face as he silently stared out over the small crowd gathered in their garden. Yes, she would definitely claim another kiss. Something had changed in their relationship after last night. While the idea of leaving herself too vulnerable still scared her, finding out he cared for her and had wanted to marry her no matter what had soothed some of her old wounds. She might not be ready to tell him her true feelings, but she was a lot more comfortable around him.
"Try not to scare our guests away," she said with another pat on his arm. "I must walk around the garden and be a good hostess."
A grunt was her only reply, but it only made her smile. Seeing her friends further up the garden, she walked over to them. Lady Mary and Olivia were both busy watching Dash a short distance away as he worked his charms on one of the Season's eligible young ladies. John Osborne stood with them, his face expressionless as he observed the spectacle. Rain had always felt bad for John. He was a lovely man but had fallen in love with someone who seemed unable to see him as anything other than a friend.
"I do not know why he is speaking to her," Mary was saying as Rain approached. "We all know he has no intentions of courting anyone. He tells us again and again that he is content to remain a rake."
"Perhaps he has changed his mind," Olivia said with a little shrug, even as her face betrayed her misery. She had never been able to hide her emotions, having a very expressive face.
"Doubtful," Rain scoffed. "Dash is having the time of his life and will not be content to find himself married. I am certain he is only being polite."
"Your Grace." Her friends curtsied and John sketched a bow.
Once the formalities were done, Olivia sighed. "I know I am a fool to love him, but I cannot stop."
"You will find someone else," Mary said with an encouraging smile. "Maybe you have simply not met the right gentleman yet."
Rain was rather impressed by how John could hear those words and not show with so much as a twitch of his face how much that must hurt him. Perhaps he had taken lessons from Marcus on remaining stoic at all times. Neither Olivia nor Mary knew of his affections for the former. Rain had only learned of them as her sister Nick was also a good friend of the group and she had an amazing ability to make people talk and spill their darkest secrets. It was by sheer force of will Rain had not told her sister about the state of her marriage.
It wasn't that she didn't trust her sister with the information. She knew better than most that Nick could keep a secret amazingly well. While everyone knew she and Marcus had not shared a home until now, she had not wanted to tell anyone why. Not just Nick—she had wanted no one to know the embarrassing reasons they were not together. Pride was the only thing she had at that point, and admitting to Marcus marrying her for money gained from bets was not something she wanted anyone to know. Her brother might suspect it, but she had refused to tell even him the full details.
Looking back at Marcus, she struggled to suppress the flickering hope that things might be different from now on.
After everything that had happened recently, having this many people in his home and garden was not on Marcus's list of things he appreciated. Every time anyone came too close to Rain, he tensed, ready to charge if there was any hint of foul play. He would very much have preferred for her to cancel the event, but his wife was nothing if not stubborn.
"Your Grace." A footman bowed before him. "There is a gentleman here to see you. He is waiting in your study."
"Thank you, George." With a nod towards Mr Russell, who hovered near Rain to let him know he was on his own for a while, Marcus reluctantly left the garden to make his way to his study. Hopefully, Thomson would bear good news from the War Office.
Thomson stood and bowed as he entered the room. The man might not like Marcus much, but he could not afford to appear disrespectful.
"Your Grace." The man could barely utter the words without a hint of distaste tinting his words. Without Winter there as a buffer, it seemed the insincere deference came even harder to him.
"Thomson." Marcus crossed the study to stop at his desk. Turning around to look at the other man, he leaned his hips against the solid mahogany wood and crossed his arms. "What brings you here today?"
"I went to see Winter, but apparently he is not in London?" Thomson ran a hand through his brown hair.
"Correct. He is working on an agency case."
"Of course Of course." Thomson sat down in a chair. "I had hoped to speak to him to see if he had uncovered anything so far, but I suppose you would know."
Marcus opened his mouth to reply, to let the agent know they suspected Nick's case had something to do with the missing list, but something stopped him short. To hide the fact, he pushed away from the desk and went over to the cupboard where he kept his brandy. Opening it, he retrieved a bottle and two glasses. Pouring two drinks, he offered one to the agent before returning to lean against the desk with his own.
There was no point in telling Thomson about the possible link until Winter had confirmed if that was the case. All it would accomplish was possibly sending the War Office into a frenzy chasing a possibly irrelevant lead and missing something else important.
"No, we have discovered nothing yet," he mumbled before taking a sip of his brandy.
Thomson sighed. "Shame. Neither have we. The Frenchman who we believe killed Mr Brown has all but vanished off the face of the earth and the list with him."
"I wonder if the list has been sold because there have been attempts on my wife's life."
The glass in Thomson's hand tilted precariously as he flinched. "What? Why have you not told me of this sooner?"
"At first I believed it might be a coincidence, but the timing is suspicious." Marcus frowned as he thought back to the events. "And while I may not be the most well-liked man in London, I cannot see that anyone would dislike me enough to wish to kill my wife."
Thomson cleared his throat. "Is there any chance someone could dislike your wife enough to—"
"No."
The sharp word cut the other man short, and he simply nodded before taking a shaky sip of his drink.
"Rain is loved by all," Marcus continued, the edge of his voice softened. "I cannot think of anyone who would wish her ill."
"Fair enough." Thomson didn't look like he would argue the point, which was probably for the best, as Marcus would hear none of it. "Would you like me to make some enquiries?"
"If you hear anything, let me know. But do not divert resources away from finding that list. I suspect finding either the list or the Frenchman will help with the attacks on my wife as well." Marcus set his glass down on the desk and met the other man's eyes. "I can keep Rain safe until then. However, the War Office needs to make more of an effort to solve this. It is taking far too long."
Thomson's eyes narrowed. "I am surprised you do not have the Rose Agency on this."
He did, but he wasn't willing to share that information. The agency did as well as it did simply because they did not divulge information to anyone other than whoever hired them and their employees. Even another agent would not be privy to the information or even content of another case than their own assignments, leaving their clients safe in the knowledge that as few people as possible knew about them.
"We trust in the War Office," he replied with a non-committing shrug.
Finishing his drink, Thomson stood. "I shall be on my way then. This case is doing my head in. No one seems to know anything, and the Frenchman is nowhere to be found."
"Keep searching."
With a curt bow, Thomson disappeared out the door. Marcus looked after him for a moment as he tried to tamp down his annoyance with how badly the case was being handled. How could the War Office still have no leads?
He was still simmering when a light knock on the door roused him from his pondering a few moments later and Rain entered the room. Raising an eyebrow, he watched as she strolled towards him.
"Are you leaving our guests without a host?"
She smiled. "I doubt they will miss me. They have plenty of food and drink."
"What are you doing here?" It wasn't like his wife to leave a social gathering of any kind. "Are you well?"
Coming to stand before him, she shifted from one foot to the other, a look of hesitation flashing across her beautiful face. "I missed you. I suppose I've grown accustomed to having you around."
"You should not have come here by yourself," he admonished gently. "What if your attacker lurked outside?"
She let out a small giggle. "In our own house? That seems unlikely."
"Someone poisoned you in our house." He reached out and pulled her closer. Lifting his hand, he cupped her face and tilted it towards his so he could meet her eyes. "I cannot let anything happen to you."
"We don't know for certain it happened here," she said as she stared up at him, her voice breathless. "It's not impossible that it was at the ball. Maybe it was all in the drinks."
"Maybe," he allowed, though he doubted it. "All I want is to keep you safe."
"You need not worry. Mr Russell walked me all the way from the garden to here." She smiled up at him, the teasing quality of it warming him from the inside out.
"Surely you did not come here simply because you missed me?" His thumb caressed her lower lip. He knew what he hoped she had come for, but it seemed unlikely. The only time she had ever sought him out before today was when she had asked for an annulment. Hopefully, her reasons today were not quite as devastating.
"Oh! I..." Her cheeks stained pink. "I... I was hoping we could have our eighth kiss."
Rain stared up at Marcus as she waited for his reply, a little shocked that she'd dared to be so forward. While, yes, she wanted the eighth kiss, she also didn't want it to be too obvious she did... That ship had sailed. Marcus watched her quietly, his eyes unreadable, making her fidget in his arms.
"If you do not wish to..." She pulled back slightly, but his arm around her waist tightened, keeping her close.
"That is not it," he said quietly, his dark voice soothing her frazzled nerves. "I am debating if I am willing to waste a kiss now when we have little time. We will have to return to our guests soon, and I would rather have more time for a proper kiss." He bent lower, his mouth by her temple and his hot breath fanning her ear. "Trust me. I very much want to."
A wave of warmth travelled through her, pooling low in her abdomen, and she exhaled slowly. The promise of a kiss later, with more time to devote to it, did sound enticing, but she had always been impatient and she wasn't sure she wanted to wait. As Marcus straightened, she turned her head, letting her lips graze across the skin of his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
He froze, and the hand at her waist flexed.
The air in her lungs burned as she didn't even dare to breathe.
Anticipation made her skin tingle as he leaned a little closer, his lips a mere hair's breadth away. A knock on the door made her jump, and disappointment washed over her as Marcus straightened.
"Yes?" he called out, his voice strained.
The door opened, and the butler came inside. Catching sight of them, with Marcus's hand still at her back, their proximity anything but proper, his gaze dropped to the floor.
"Your Graces," he said, his voice not betraying how embarrassed he must be. Or perhaps not. He was an older man and had served Marcus's father before them. Perhaps this had been a common occurrence in the past. "The guests are asking for you."
"Thank you, Bromley. We will return soon."
After the butler disappeared, Marcus placed a soft, quick kiss on her forehead. "Tonight," he promised.
She nodded. Their eighth kiss would happen tonight. And if anyone dared interrupt them, she might scream.
~~~~~~