The Villainous Marquis Is Obsessed With Me

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"Are you ready, My Lord?"

Vincent, who was sitting out on the patio, looked up as Penelope made her way to him.

"I’ve been waiting for you," he said, not rising to his feet just yet. "Any minute later and I might have begun to think you intended to abandon me."

"Well, this is our first official outing as a couple after all," Penelope folded her arms, a playful tilt to her lips. "A lady must take her time. You should commend Martha for the effort she puts into preparing me."

"I do commend it."

He finally rose to his feet, his gray eyes pinned on her appearance. He cleared his throat, his posture suddenly rigid. "I wish to say that you look beautiful, but the words feel inadequate to me."

"How so?"

Penelope stepped closer, the soft scent of her perfume filling the small space between them as she reached up, helping him adjust the heavy collar of his fur-lined coat.

Vincent tensed slightly at the sudden close proximity. His broad shoulders went stiff as a board, and his hands hovered awkwardly at his side, completely unsure where they ought to be.

While he could effortlessly command armies or terrify a room full of nobles, this quiet, intimate domesticity left him utterly out of his depth.

Penelope, however, remained completely unbothered by his paralysis, her focus pinned entirely on smoothing down the fabric of his lapel.

"Because ’beautiful’ feels too mundane a word for how you look today," Vincent muttered, his voice a little lower, a little rougher, but completely honest nonetheless.

Penelope paused and smiled. Then she stepped back. She tilted her head slightly as her eyes looked him up and down, while touching her chin thoughtfully.

"What are you staring at?" Vincent asked, his shoulders squaring under her scrutiny as if he were preparing for a military inspection rather than a leisurely evening together.

"I am merely taking my time to admire my husband," Penelope replied, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

She gestured toward his tailored attire and the way the heavy fur-lined coat accentuated his commanding frame.

"If ’beautiful’ feels too mundane for me, then ’dashing’ certainly does not do you justice either, my lord. You look exceptionally handsome today. I fear I shall spend the entire evening keeping an eye out for the other ladies, lest they forget you are entirely taken."

Vincent blinked.

He pulled back at the same collar she adjusted, looking completely deflated by her easy confidence. For some reason, he felt as though he was losing a battle.

He had heard about such outings before. His men spoke of them often enough, usually with far more enthusiasm than he thought warranted. He had never quite understood the appeal of taking one’s wife out simply to enjoy her company, but apparently, it was something most ordinary husbands did.

Considering he never got the chance to properly court his wife like he should have, he decided to attempt one himself as a redo. Over the past several days, he quietly gathered what information he could and formed a meticulous plan.

From what he understood, the process was simple.

One took one’s lady out, purchased whatever caught her fancy, ensured she had a good time, and made her feel cherished.

It was a straightforward objective.

At least, it had seemed straightforward in theory.

In practice, however, nothing was unfolding according to the carefully constructed script in his head.

Penelope had overturned it within minutes. She was the one leaving him flustered at every turn, effortlessly reversing roles while he stood there like a stone statue struggling to keep pace.

’It never ends with this woman,’ he thought, a faint, helpless trace of frustration pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Strangely enough, he had possessed a lot more grit when she despised him.

Back then, he knew where he stood. Hatred was simple, and resentment was understandable. He had spent his life navigating emotions of that sort.

But this?

Now that she was looking at him with genuine affection, and now that her smiles came freely and her touch lingered without hesitation, he found himself lost.

He did not know what to call the strange warmth she stirred inside him.

All he knew was that it was dangerous.

It swept through him like a tide, dissolving every defense he had spent years constructing. It left him feeling unsteady, foolish and strangely vulnerable. And perhaps, most concerning of all, he found that he loved it.

Penelope, on the other hand, was having the time of her life.

Watching the fierce and unyielding Marquis reduced to a blushing, speechless mess filled her with an almost embarrassing amount of delight.

She couldn’t help but giggle into her palm, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

It had quickly become her favorite pastime.

His expressions during these moments were always so unexpectedly cute and silly, a stark contrast to the terrifying shadow he cast over the rest of the empire.

It honestly surprised her how little effort it took to leave him entirely speechless. He sometimes appeared deeply annoyed by his own lack of control, and other times his mind seemed to abandon him, causing him to go just completely blank.

The discovery had been far too entertaining not to exploit. Words could scarcely describe the joy she had felt when she woke up this morning to find a neatly folded letter resting on her nightstand.

Vincent had likely been so nervous about the outing that he could not bring himself to ask her directly. Instead, he had resorted to what he knew best: to leave a formal penned invitation.

The memory of it nearly made her laugh again.

The gesture had been so unexpectedly sweet that she had spent the better half of the morning tormenting Martha with excited shrieks, reading the letter over and over until her maid had threatened to confiscate it for the sake of her own sanity.

At the entrance leading to the inner courtyard, Martha, Elias and the house butler peeked at the couple.

"Don’t they look wonderful together?" The butler started, his hands clasped over his heart with a wistful, romantic sigh. "It is like a scene from a poetry book."

Elias, however, wore a slight frown on his face. "I don’t like the idea of the two of them being out alone though. What if something goes wrong and we’re not there to secure the perimeter. They won’t even take at least four guards with them."

"Five guards wouldn’t make a difference," Martha replied dryly.

"How can you be so unconcerned?" Elias shot back in a hushed whisper. "Those two are walking targets. Political enemies, assassins, mercenaries—"

"Sir Elias, please use your head."

Martha rolled her eyes and popped another piece of dried fruit into her mouth.

"If anyone is foolish enough to attack those two together, the only thing you’ll need to worry about is arranging the cleanup afterward."

She jerked her chin toward the courtyard. "Besides, take a look at our terrifying lord."

Almost immediately, all three turned their attention back to Vincent.

Martha snorted.

"If anything, the Marquis is currently a danger to himself. He’s standing there like a wooden post."

Elias adjusted his spectacles.

"He... looks as though he may faint."

"Exactly."

The butler stared at the couple for a long moment before shaking his head at the pair beside him.

"You two are impossible," he said. "His Lordship has already endured more than what most men should in a lifetime. He deserves this much happiness, especially with someone he can freely be himself around."

His expression softened.

"I still remember the years following the tragedy with the Late Devereux. He all but exiled himself from this world. There were days when I feared he would remain that way forever."

The old servant’s gaze returned to Vincent, who had dropped to one knee to fix something in his wife’s shoes.

"I thought this marriage would end in shambles, but I am grateful to be alive to witness this gentle side of him."

Martha tilted her head.

"Does anyone know why he became interested in Lady Penelope in the first place?"

She looked between the two men, who shook their heads.

"That is apparently one thing I know nothing about," Elias admitted.

The butler hummed thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I also cannot recall precisely when it began either. Perhaps His Lordship doesn’t even know the answer to that himself."