Page 58 of No Ordinary Lady

Daniel caught Amy’s glare at the maid, and it was long enough to make the young woman recoil. “I’d best take this back inside with the rest, my lord. Thank you for saving it for me.”

Daniel nodded. “Miss Wilson will be returning to my mother now.”

“Very good, my lord. Shall I escort her there for you?”

Amy’s eyes narrowed dangerously on him. “That isn’t necessary.”

“No, no. The maid is right. You are a guest here, Miss Wilson. I should hate for you to become lost in the shrubbery,” he murmured, watching the first signs of a temper Amy Wilson had ever shown him. He knew she’d have one somewhere, of course. Everyone got angry.

He turned his attention to the maid. “If you don’t mind, could you inform everyone that I won’t be back until after supper?”

Amy’s smile faded. “I can tell them, my lord. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” he said, refusing to commit himself. Amy’s behavior today had given him a lot to think about, as had his own growing reservations. He’d engaged in two arguments today, one with Marian and now with Amy, and there was only one he truly regretted.

Which begged the question, did he really want to marry Amy Wilson, when he only cared if Marian would forgive him?

Chapter Thirteen

“And this chest contains what remains of my wedding trousseau,” Lady Scarsdale announced to Marian and Gabby with a fond smile as she opened a large but shabby trunk at her feet.

Gabby had expressed an interest in seeing it when they’d returned from the grotto yesterday. And upon her return visit today, the lady had been eager to show off the treasure chest of wonders to them both immediately.

They were in the countess’ bedchamber, surrounded by more riches than Marian had never dreamed existed. Lady Scarsdale’s bedchamber was large and so feminine that Marian had instantly coveted it for herself, even if she felt unworthy of setting foot in here.

Mrs. Nolan had chosen to remain downstairs in case Miss Wilson finally arrived. No one could understand what might be keeping the woman today when she was usually so punctual.

Marian was glad for whatever reason kept her absent from the manor. Now that she was fully aware of Miss Wilson’s disrespect toward Lady Scarsdale, she couldn’t help but notice the condescension directed toward the countess when Amy spoke to her.

It was astonishing Lady Scarsdale failed to notice, or perhaps she was accustomed to ignoring any unpleasantness directed at her. Marian was not so inclined or even willing to forgive such rudeness toward a member of Daniel’s family.

It had become a habit for Marian to pay attention to every move Lady Scarsdale made in the past few days. She was wise but not terribly talkative, at least not with Marian. The countess had almost single-handedly run the estate for her absent son and done a remarkable job of it, by all accounts. She was incredibly talented and gracious, too. There was much Marian could learn from such a woman just by watching how she behaved around others.

“It’s truly beautiful,” Gabby gushed, pausing to admire every single garment. “How wonderful you were able to preserve it so well. It looks almost new.”

“Thank you. I made it all myself, did all the embroidery without help. The late Lord Scarsdale provided the pearls on the gown I wore on my wedding day.”

“How utterly romantic,” Gabby gushed again, pointing out to Marian a wealth in pearls stitched into the dress still in the trunk. “What do you say, Miss Trill? Would you wear something like this? An heirloom gown, or would you want to make your own?”

“I…” Marian studied the last dress properly. “It looks too fragile to be worn.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Scarsdale showed her the full length. The over gown was sheer lace but embroidered heavily from shoulder to hem with seed pearls all over. “I have it aired each year and packed away carefully to avoid wrinkles. It has long been my hope to see it worn again one day.”

Marian lifted her hand to touch the sleeve of the garment. The fabric felt like new between her finger but as fragile as it seemed. Obviously, a creation made with love and a reminder of happy times in the countess’ life.

“I would want to wear something just like this. Something important. Something made with love by my mother. It would have been a family heirloom that meant the world to me if I had any family left,” she whispered, and then smiled. “I’ve not the skill to sew a gown of my own.”

The countess inclined her head—and then she did something that surprised Marian. Lady Scarsdale held the gown against Marian’s body, sizing her up.

“It would fit you, I think,” she said, looking her up and down, assessing the length and fit across her chest.

Marian held the dress against her carefully and took a few steps toward a mirror as Lady Scarsdale held up the bodice by the shoulders and allowed her to see what she might look like on a wedding day in such a dress.

But Marian’s eyes blurred with tears after a single glance at herself. She’d found something she wanted more than gold, a pretty room, more than the promise ring she still coveted for her finger.

She wanted this dress and everything it represented. Hope. Happiness. Love. Family. Forever. A husband who adored her.

But a woman like her could never have such a wealth of treasures.