Married to the Marquess by Rebecca Connolly

help?”
    Something that could almost be called a smile flicked across her face, and he suddenly remembered that his wife was a beautiful woman. It was easy to forget, as she was so often looking severe and disapproving, and always kept that dark hair of hers so tightly pulled back. But he recalled a day, right around five years ago, when he had married her, when for the first time in his life, he had been grateful to marry her. She had been stunning even though he hated her. That, of course, had faded and even now it was a blurry memory, but he remembered her smile, small and slight and hidden, and how it had caught him right in the chest.
    Rather like it did now.
    “Banging your head against the desk,” Kate said, tilting her head just a touch.
    “Who said anything about it being my head?” he asked with a grin.
    “One, you have a red mark on your face, and two, it has been something I have considered doing a time or two.”
    “You wanted to bang your head against the desk?” he laughed. “When?”
    “Whenever I get letters from the estate in Derbyshire,” she said, still wearing that almost-smile.
    “Oh, yes,” Derek groaned, nodding. “Mr. Frazier and his blood… erm, blasted reports,” he amended quickly, feeling that he should probably curb his harsh language around her.
    She nodded, her eyes looking almost amused. “If I never read another report of his about every detail of every farm, I will consider myself fortunate.”
    Derek sat forward and smiled. “Did you ever get his notices of his…”
    “…mother’s gout?” they finished together.
    “Yes,” Kate said, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “It was awful.”
    “I know,” Derek said with a chuckle. He sighed and gave her an appraising look. “Nathan and Moira want us to come to a party at their home this evening. Would you like to go?”
    She thought for a moment. “I would, but I am still in mourning.”
    He shrugged. “So don’t dance, if it should occur. It is only a small party, not a formal audience. It hardly counts. Besides, I think Moira would like to have you there.”
    “Really?” she asked in a voice that was almost too sincere for him to believe it came from her.
    “I think so,” he said with a nod, enjoying this side of her. “She doesn’t show it, but Moira does not have many friends. She is still new to Society, and things are difficult.”
    “Then yes, I think we should go,” Kate said firmly. “It is important to support her.” Then she gave him a serious look. “But I still would like to know if I can help with whatever is troubling you.”
    Derek considered thanking her, but refusing the offer. But as he looked at her and saw an honest willingness to help, he gave in. What was a wife for, after all? And so he opened up to her for the first time in his life, and found her to be discerning and receptive and really rather wise in family matters, and the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was spent trying to determine the best course of action for keeping David out of trouble and keeping his father satisfied.
    And by the time they broke to change for the party, Derek thought that perhaps this friendship idea would not be so difficult after all.

    They caused a small stir as they entered the ballroom of Nathan and Moira’s house, where a good many chairs had been set up and already people were milling about, but all had frozen as the Marquess and Marchioness of Whitlock had been announced together. Then the titters and whispers started, and Derek sighed.
    “Well, that should give them something to gossip about for a while,” he muttered.
    “How very shocking we are,” Kate muttered right back. “To think, we, a married couple, appeared at something together. How dare we. And I in my mourning gown? Appalling manners, all around.”
    Derek bit his lip, wanting to snicker, but knowing he shouldn’t. Then he caught sight of a truly horrible thing. “Oh dear,” he murmured to