by Abigail Agar
But Marina knew she had limited time. “Where are your sisters?” she asked, slipping up against a large pillar and dropping back down to speak at their height.
“Claudia was with Father,” Christopher said.
“I need to speak with her. And with Lottie,” Marina said. She felt all the blood draining from her cheeks. “Can you find them and bring them right here, Christopher?” She swallowed. “It’s my biggest task for you. Possibly greater than the task of finding that buried treasure in the forest. Do you understand? And you can’t let your father know I’m here, either. It’s our little secret.”
“Why is it a secret, Marina?” Max asked, tilting his head. His black curls swirled over his ears. He so needed a haircut, something Marina had loved giving him. She’d loved twirling her fingers through his soft curls, watching the little hairs drop to the ground.
But before she could answer, Christopher leapt to his feet, darting through the crowd. Marina returned her gaze to Max.
“How are you, darling?”
Max’s eyebrows snuck over his eyes. There was certainly no fooling him. “Marina, why did you leave us? Aren’t you going to come back? Our new teacher is absolutely horrific. And we’ve not found a governess. Claudia says you’re not coming back. But you didn’t even tell us where you were going …”
“Darling, I had to leave. It wasn’t good for me to stay with you any longer. There are other people who can teach you so much more than I can,” Marina whispered. Again, tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying, Marina?” Max asked. He brought his hands to her ear, curling a small strand of hair behind it.
But seconds later, Christopher ambled up beside them, dragging Lottie. The sea of people parted slightly, allowing Claudia to enter their space. She held her chin aloft, like a much older, regal woman, and her dress was for a teenager—a dark turquoise, with jewels along the neckline.
The moment Claudia’s eyes met with Marina’s, however, she increased her speed—darting directly to Marina’s chest. Lottie, too, wrapped her arms around Marina’s legs, rubbing her face in her skirts. Marina’s nose filled with the smell of Claudia—perfume, perhaps her mother’s, retrieved from one of the storage rooms.
“Claudia. You look absolutely stunning,” Marina murmured.
But Claudia was shaking. She wrapped her arms tighter around Marina, seemingly unable to speak. Christopher bobbed around them, giggling. “Father didn’t see us sneak away, Marina! It’s just like you told me. Keep it a secret.”
Claudia brought her face back. Marina sensed that within the next year or two, the girl would be nearly her height. She ached with the knowledge that she wouldn’t see that transformation.
“You look more like a woman than you did a few weeks ago, you know,” Marina murmured, trying to give Claudia an assuring look. “Beautiful. Sure of yourself.”
“You left us,” Claudia said in return. “What are you doing here? At the palace, of all places? Father said …”
“Your father can’t know I’m here,” Marina murmured. “It’s terribly important. I just wanted to see you children a final time. I wanted to hear the music. And to tell you—tell you all the things I was unable to say, before I left.”
“You didn’t have to leave,” Claudia said, her voice low. “We wanted you there. You were all we had.”
Marina felt the words slip through her like a knife. She felt cut, bleeding out with sadness. But she just shook her head, turning her eyes towards little Lottie beneath her. “I want to be there for you in every moment. But it’s simply too difficult. This life, it doesn’t always give you what you want.”
Silence hung over all of them. Even Christopher’s smile faltered. He stopped bouncing and instead wrapped his arms around his back, turning his eyes to the ground. Behind them, the music continued to swell, churning the ball-goers into another dance. They twirled, their gowns flowing.
“You love him, don’t you?” Claudia whispered.
“I can’t possibly,” Marina returned. “For he would never love me in return.”
Claudia shook her head. But she held no relevant answer. For despite her dress, she was only a child—a child who had suffered and lost. Marina regretted so that she had to be a part of that loss. She ached, knowing she was bringing so much pain to them. For soon, she would disappear once more, follow her Lady back to the Garrett mansion. Hunker over a pot of stew, shelling skins from potatoes. That would be her life, for good.
Chapter 35
The Duke beamed at the orchestra. He stood midway through the ballroom, a dark, regal statue—one so dominant-looking, so strange and bizarre and foreboding, that nobody dared to approach him. The strings swelled, creating a kind of mountain of tension. Around him, the ballroom dancers twirled, their wet eyes turning to him only when they had to, in order to avoid him.
The conductor’s baton whirled left, right, up—directing the orchestra as they came to the dramatic conclusion of the song before dropping down to a simmering, quiet song. How incredible it was that the instruments had been only long strips of wood, just weeks before. How incredible that now, they beamed such life and vitality into the world, with the light touch of the fingers of these musicians.
And how grateful the Duke was that he could see it all take place: the light from the chandeliers, flickering above them; the Lords and Ladies in their fine gowns, sipping champagne and placing their fingers against their painted faces, ensuring they remained a pretty portrait for any passers-by. The Queen herself sat near the orchestra, her chin pressing against the top of her hand. Her eyes were bird-like, hunting across the crowd. What was she searching for?
The Duke whirled around, his coat swirling behind him, and he reached for a glass of champagne on a passing platter. With a jolt, he realised he hadn’t seen his children in quite some time. And, as he marched further into the crowd, he began to see signs that they weren’t up to any good. One table, in particular, had smashed halfway to the ground, with champagne glasses shattered across the floor. Had that been the work of Christopher, leaping around the ballroom to the beat of his own drum? Had it been Lottie, reaching for a cookie?
The Duke hunted for his children, searching for the glittering turquoise of Claudia’s dress, or Lottie’s curls quaking as she danced. And within just moments, it seemed the sea of people parted before him, directing his eyes towards a far pillar.
There, he spotted the four of them: Claudia, Lottie, Max, and Christopher, with their arms wrapped tight around another person, a woman. A woman with alarmingly dark hair, in no beautiful up-do. The woman wore an ill-fitting dress of deep emerald, and it seemed to be stitched together half-heartedly in the centre—so that it fell off from the right side of her waist.
This woman. With a jolt, the Duke realised who she was. He flung himself forward, with the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. They gave him dark-eyed looks, muttering about “that crazy Duke, the musical instrument business. You know the one.” But he ignored them, his heart hammering somewhere in his throat.
What the hell was she doing there? The question was so nonsensical. Marina Blackwater had no context at the royal palace. The security had been top-notch, coming in. Certainly she wouldn’t have been able to sneak into the ballroom? And why. Why, had she come all the way there?
But he halted, about ten feet away from his children and their ex-governess, watching. Marina’s face had all-out crumpled into tears. Max’s face was pink with worry, and Claudia was mussing with her hair like a child. Even Christopher seemed awash with feeling. He was asking something of Marina, his voice growing increasingly loud. The Duke strained to hear it.
“But please, Marina, you have to come back with us. We can’t go home without you. Why won’t you come?” Christopher demanded, sounding obstinate. “You told me you’d help me with finding the treasure, in the spring. Don’t you remember? You said we would hunt together, the moment the ground thawed.”
The Duke’s eyes burned towar
ds Marina. He felt he’d never seen a more beautiful woman, despite her dishevelled appearance. Her fingers laced over Christopher’s curls as she murmured her response, something the Duke couldn’t make out. But Christopher’s crumpled face, in return, told him that Marina had no plans to return.
This blackened the Duke’s heart. Behind him, the orchestra began to swell once more, an emotional piece that reminded him of those long, sizzling nights, taut with desire, when he and Marina had played violin alongside one another. Still, his eyes burned towards hers.
Why had he pushed her so far from his life?
Why had she allowed him to?
It was as if Marina could sense his eyes upon her. Her eyelashes fluttered up, so that her hazel eyes met with his. Immediately, she yanked from the children, her body becoming all hard angles, all fear.
She swirled from the pillar, rushing towards the exit of the ballroom. His children dropped their arms to their sides, incredulous. Immediately, Lottie burst into tears. Her face looked bright red, a baby bird’s screeching for food.
The Duke couldn't think any longer. He raced for his Lottie, bringing her into his arms. Claudia’s eyes met with his as he passed. Her words, “Please, Father. Please, bring her home,” continued to echo in his mind as he rushed.
The three other children ambled up behind him, and they chased Marina. He was conscious that Christopher and Max both said her name, hollering so that their voices bounced off the walls of the foyer.
But it wasn’t until his, the Duke’s voice, rang out that Marina spun around. She was already in the doorway of the massive foyer. Her chest heaved. From outside, rain spat on her face, joining the tears.
Marina smashed her hands against her sides, shaking her head. The Duke stepped towards her, closing the gap. Everything within him forced him forward. It was as if he had no other option, but her.
“Why are you following me?” she whispered when he reached her. “Please. You can let me go. You have to do this. I understood what you wanted, back at the estate. I understood that it can’t be so. And now, look at me. Look at this tattered dress and these scabbed hands. Look at how little I’m enough for you. I can’t imagine how I ever thought …” She trailed off, stumbling over her words. Her eyes grew increasingly orb-like. They were akin to Marybeth’s, yes. But in this light, the Duke saw the difference.
Marybeth would always be Marybeth. She would remain a memory.
But Marina? She was something else. And she ached with passion, directly before him. How could he ever refute her again?
“Just tell me to go,” Marina whispered. “Please. Just let me go.”
The Duke shook his head. He placed Lottie beside him, so that his hands were free. Lottie joined the other three, who formed a kind of tribe off to his left. He felt they were appealing to her, a joint effort.
They wouldn’t let her leave them. They couldn’t let her live her life alone.
“Marina, you are all we want,” the Duke said, his voice raspy. “Marina, you’re the only woman we want. As our governess. As our friend. And as our love.”
Marina crumpled, drawing her hands against her chest. She gasped for air. But before she could answer, the Duke reached for her. He gripped around her waist, bringing her frame against his. And then, his eyes closed—for he truly needed to see nothing at all to know the truth of his love for her—he kissed her.
He kissed her, as the orchestra swelled behind them, as his children hugged one another close, as the rain pattering grew more ferocious outside. When all had been dark, they’d had one another. And they always would.
THE END
Can't get enough of Marina and Adolphus? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…
How will young Claudia's eternal sassy quality and prowess help her save her new mother?
What other surprise will the beautiful Marina will bring to his once miserable life?
Will the magic of newly-written, romantic melodies be spread at the Duke's mansion again?
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://abigailagar.com/marina
(Turn the page to read “The Light in the Duke's Shadow”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)
The Light in the Duke's Shadow
Introduction
Lady Penelope Withersfield had always dreamed of finding love like the one in stories she hears and reads. But when she discovers a collection of old journals and diaries, a terrible truth comes to the surface. How could she break free of the curse that surrounded women in her family? The past seemed doomed to repeat itself and Penelope vowed that she would never be chained to a man’s name, and forced to smile demurely at his whims. Her fire and determination could bring her fortune or ruin, but when she stumbles upon a fallen duke, how could she save herself from the beauty of his face?
All Lord Jules Daventry, Duke of Richmond, knew was revenge. His incessant search for truth had brought him to gloomy places full of people envying his blood or his wealth. He would not give up until the truth of his parents’ murders was brought to light and his good name was restored. Yet, in his darkest moments, he came to see an angel. Is she friend or a foe?
Lord Jules must let go of his past, in order to see that there is beauty to be had and that revenge is not worth it. During this critical moment, he will have to choose between the dark desire of vengeance and his deeper need for redemption. How can he fulfill his vow without endangering the woman he grows to love?
Chapter 1
(Manor home of the Earl of Havenshire, London. Early evening.)
The halls of the manor home of the Earl of Havenshire were filled with music, laughter, and smiling faces. Most people would look upon this high society ball with starry eyes and a vision of wonder, but Lady Penelope Withersfield saw it for what it was: a market for which men searched out a suitable bride and to which young women were forced to display themselves for judgement.
Penelope was in attendance with her mother Lady Winchester, Marchioness of Winchester, who was serving as her daughter’s escort. Lady Winchester was tall for a woman, and her golden blonde strands of hair glistened like strands of gold. Penelope had inherited her mother’s hair and blue eyes, but unfortunately, she had not inherited her mother’s stature. Penelope took after her grandmother and was rather on the short side at her 5’ 3” height.
The gentleman that Penelope was currently dancing with gave her a smile that would have made most women’s hearts flutter right out of their chest, but Penelope saw only that his eyes settled on her just long enough for the length of a breath before they were off to some other woman. Penelope glanced in the direction the man was looking but could spy no obvious object of his admiration. It could be that the man simply was of poor concentration, but Penelope felt certain that he was plotting who to lead out onto the dance floor next song.
Surely, Penelope wagered that her dancing was not to blame. Penelope had been trained since her sixth birthday in the art of dance. True, the couple’s dances did not really show off her form, but she thought it unlikely that she had made a poor showing.
When the music finally faded, Penelope almost sighed with relief to get away from the merchant. Penelope had no social qualms about marrying below her station, but she certainly was not going to marry a man who could scarcely keep his eyes on her for more than a second. Penelope curtsied to him and said, “Thank you for the dance, Sir.” She was attempting to be polite, but the man looked a bit put out. Perhaps she had judged his inattention wrong.
“Do you think your mother would allow you to walk with me?” the merchant asked. Penelope found that she could not recall the name he had been introduced by and momentarily panicked.
She squashed down the panic and shook her head. “I am afraid that my mother is most old-fashioned. To allow me to do something like that would be paramount to her abandoning me in the woods.”
The man looked a bit perplexed but nodded. “As you say,” he said still looking a bit confused.
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