Ellington picked up the newspaper and, with a small smile at the Viscount’s bent head, signaled to the lone servant to bring him some tea. Marquand ceased his cheerful humming and looked up from his sketchbook. “What? Oh, er, yes.” He couldn’t help but grin. “I suppose I am feeling a bit more in harmony with things, Tony.” Indeed, even though the streets outside their residence were enveloped in an oppressive gray fog so thick that its weight was nearly palpable, the Viscount felt as though some heavy mantle had been lifted from his own spirits, leaving him feeling more unfettered, more carefree than he had felt in ages. He nearly chuckled out loud. It made not a whit of sense—his carefully chosen bride was about to elope with another man, he was on the brink of losing his beloved Woolsey Hall, and the plans for the Duke’s gardens were still mere scribbles of ideas. And yet, the coil of worry that had tied him in knots of late seemed to have unaccountably fallen away.
What do You think about A Diamond In The Rough (v1.1)?
