Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
"You absolute fool! Why did you not send word ahead?"
Anthea had barely crossed the threshold into Cassandra's drawing room before her friend descended upon her with the enthusiasm of a general preparing for battle.
Lady Cassandra Burrow, daughter of the Marquess of Lotterdale, was dressed impeccably as always, her blonde hair arranged in perfect ringlets and her morning dress a confection of pale pink muslin that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else.
"Good morning to you as well, Cassandra," Anthea said dryly, removing her gloves. "How lovely to see you."
"Do not attempt to deflect with pleasantries," Cassandra said, pulling her toward the settee with surprising force.
"The entire ton is buzzing about you and the Duke of Everleigh being caught alone together in a music room at Sybil's ball, and you did not think to send me word immediately?
I had to hear about it from Lady Pemberton of all people! "
Anthea winced. "I apologize for the oversight. The evening became rather... complicated."
"Complicated," Cassandra repeated, her eyes gleaming with barely restrained curiosity. "Yes, I imagine being caught in a compromising position with London's most eligible Duke would qualify as complicated."
"We were not in a compromising position," Anthea said firmly, settling onto the settee. "We were merely conversing."
"Conversing," Cassandra said with evident skepticism. "Standing quite close together, from what I heard. Lady Thornbury said you were practically in his arms."
Damn Lady Thornbury and her eagle eyes, Anthea thought viciously. "Lady Thornbury should perhaps invest in spectacles if her vision is that unreliable."
"So you were not standing close together?"
Anthea felt heat rise in her cheeks. "We may have been... in proximity. But only because we were arguing."
"Arguing," Cassandra's expression turned delighted. "Oh, this is even better than I imagined. What were you arguing about?"
"It is a rather long story," Anthea hedged.
"Then you had best start from the beginning." Cassandra rang for tea with the air of someone settling in for an excellent performance. "And do not leave out any details. I wish to hear everything."
By the time the tea arrived and Anthea had recounted the events of the previous evening, carefully editing out certain details, such as Gregory's accusations about perfume and the way her heart had raced when they stood toe to toe, Cassandra was practically vibrating with excitement.
"He called upon you this morning?" she asked, leaning forward. "To offer marriage?"
"To offer a practical arrangement," Anthea corrected. "He needs someone who understands Society. I need..." She paused, uncertain how much to reveal. "I need a way to secure my sisters' futures."
"Ah yes, your stepsisters." Cassandra's expression sobered slightly. "How are Poppy and Veronica faring this season? I have seen them at a few events, but we have not had the opportunity to converse properly."
"That is actually why I came to see you," Anthea admitted. "I need intelligence. I have been away from Society for three years, and I am woefully out of touch with the current dynamics. If I am to help my sisters find suitable matches, I need to understand what I am working with."
Cassandra nodded, immediately shifting into what Anthea privately thought of as her 'strategic mode.' For all her love of gossip and social events, Cassandra possessed a remarkably sharp mind when it came to the machinations of the ton.
"Very well," Cassandra said, setting down her teacup with deliberate care. "Let us begin with Veronica. She is the elder of the two, is she not?"
"Three and twenty," Anthea confirmed.
"I have observed her at several balls," Cassandra said carefully. "She is quite lovely, and her manners are impeccable. However..."
"However?"
"She is painfully shy," Cassandra said gently. "At Lady Ashford's ball, I watched her spend nearly the entire evening standing beside the potted palms. When gentlemen did approach her, she could barely string three words together in response."
Anthea closed her eyes briefly. "I feared as much."
"It is not an insurmountable problem," Cassandra assured her. "Many gentlemen find shyness charming. But she must be encouraged to engage in conversation, even if only briefly. Perhaps you could practice with her? Give her topics she might discuss that feel safer than the usual weather and gossip."
"That is an excellent suggestion," Anthea said, mentally filing it away. "And Poppy?"
Cassandra's expression turned more complicated. "Miss Poppy is... quite the opposite of her sister."
"Oh dear."
"She has no shortage of confidence," Cassandra said diplomatically. "At Lady Pemberton's soirée, I watched her engage Lord Hartwick in conversation for a full twenty minutes."
"That sounds promising," Anthea said hopefully.
"It would be, except that Lord Hartwick spoke for approximately two of those twenty minutes." Cassandra's lips twitched. "Miss Poppy has strong opinions about everything from politics to poetry, and she is not shy about expressing them. At length. Without pause."
Anthea groaned. "Beatrice always said she talked too much."
"She is lively and intelligent," Cassandra said fairly. "And I confess I found her rather entertaining. But many gentlemen prefer to be the ones dominating conversation. She needs to learn when to pause and allow them to speak."
"So Veronica needs to talk more, and Poppy needs to talk less," Anthea summarized. "Wonderful."
"Do not despair," Cassandra said, rising to retrieve a folded piece of paper from her writing desk. "I took the liberty of compiling a list of potentially suitable gentlemen for your consideration. I have noted their ages, circumstances, and general temperament."
Anthea accepted the paper with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Cassandra. Truly."
"There are several good options," Cassandra said, returning to her seat.
"Mr. Christopher Whitmore has a pleasant disposition and sufficient fortune.
Sir Edmund Blackwood is intelligent and well-read.
Lord Ashworth is..." She paused. "Actually, Lord Ashworth might be perfect for Poppy.
He seems to genuinely enjoy spirited conversation. "
"The Viscount?" Anthea asked, scanning the list. "I believe he was at the ball last evening. He spoke with the Duke."
"Yes, and they served together briefly," Cassandra confirmed. "He is a good man, from what I understand. Not prone to the usual aristocratic nonsense."
Anthea studied the list, noting names and brief descriptions. There were perhaps a dozen gentlemen listed, each with careful notations about their character and circumstances. It was exactly what she needed.
"This is invaluable," she said sincerely. "I cannot thank you enough."
"You can thank me by telling me what you intend to do about the Duke," Cassandra said pointedly.
Anthea looked up sharply. "I beg your pardon?"
"The Duke of Everleigh," Cassandra said with exaggerated patience. "The man who called upon you this morning to offer marriage. The man you were caught alone with last evening. That Duke."
"I have not decided," Anthea said carefully.
"Have you not?" Cassandra studied her with uncomfortable perception. "Or have you decided to refuse him and simply have not admitted it to yourself yet?"
"I do not wish to marry," Anthea said, the words automatic after three years of repetition. "You know this, Cassandra."
"I know you have convinced yourself that you do not wish to marry," Cassandra corrected gently. "But circumstances have changed, have they not? You need to help your sisters. And becoming a Duchess would certainly provide you with the means and influence to do so."
"That is exactly what Beatrice wants," Anthea said bitterly. "To use my marriage to advance Poppy and Veronica."
"Does it matter what Beatrice wants if the outcome benefits your sisters?" Cassandra asked reasonably. "You are allowing your hatred of your stepmother to cloud your judgment."
The words struck uncomfortably close to the truth. Anthea set down her teacup with more force than strictly necessary.
"It is not merely about Beatrice," she said. "I do not trust the Duke. I do not trust any man, for that matter."
"Because of what happened with Lord Maxwell," Cassandra said quietly.
Anthea stiffened. "I never told you what happened with Lord Maxwell."
"You did not need to," Cassandra said. "I have eyes, Anthea. And I have heard the whispers. Something occurred three years ago that broke your faith in men and in romance. You have never confirmed what, and I have never pressed. But whatever it was, it has held you captive ever since."
Anthea felt her throat tighten. "He lied to me. Manipulated me. Made me believe—" She stopped, unable to continue.
"And you believe the Duke would do the same?" Cassandra asked.
"I do not know," Anthea admitted. "But I cannot risk it. Cannot risk trusting someone only to discover they were deceiving me all along."
"The Duke does not strike me as a man prone to deception," Cassandra observed. "From what I have heard, he is almost brutally honest. Some might even say tactless."
Despite herself, Anthea felt her lips twitch. "He did accuse me of trying to seduce him with perfume."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It is a long story," Anthea said, waving a dismissive hand. "But yes, he is... direct. Sometimes insultingly so."
"And yet you are considering his offer," Cassandra said shrewdly.
Cassandra leaned forward, her expression unusually serious.
"Anthea, I have known you since we were girls.
I have watched you withdraw from Society, convince yourself that you are content alone, build walls so high that no one could possibly scale them.
And in all that time, I have never seen you look at a man the way you looked just now when speaking about the Duke. "
"I did not look any particular way," Anthea protested weakly.
"You absolutely did," Cassandra said. "Your eyes softened. Your voice changed. You were remembering something about him—something that affected you."
His green eyes, Anthea thought traitorously. The way he stood so close. The challenge in his voice when we argued.
"Even if I were attracted to him—which I am not admitting—that would be irrelevant," she said aloud. "He has made clear this would be a practical arrangement. He does not want my affection."
"Are you certain?" Cassandra asked. "Because from what you have told me, he went to considerable lengths to ensure you understood exactly what he was offering. And he specifically noted that you were honest with him. That you spoke directly rather than attempting to manipulate or trap him."
"Because he has been targeted by fortune hunters," Anthea said. "He values honesty because it is rare among the debutantes throwing themselves at his title."
"Or," Cassandra suggested, "he values honesty because it is a quality he admires in you specifically."
Anthea shook her head. "You are romanticizing a business arrangement."
"Perhaps," Cassandra allowed. "Or perhaps you are so determined to protect yourself that you cannot recognize when someone is offering you exactly what you need."
"What I need is to help my sisters," Anthea said firmly. "Not to entangle myself in a marriage I never wanted. And marrying the duke would mean…"
"Would mean what?" Cassandra prompted gently.
"Would mean trusting him," Anthea said quietly. "Trusting that his offer is genuine. That he will not change his mind or demand more than I agreed to give. That he is not simply using me as Maxwell used me."
"The Duke is not Maxwell Tinkett," Cassandra said firmly.
"Whatever that man did to you, whatever lies he told, the Duke is not him.
From everything I have observed and heard, he is a man of honor.
He served his country with distinction. He inherited a troubled estate and immediately set about trying to help his tenants rather than simply enjoying his newfound wealth and status. "
"How do you know all this?" Anthea asked, startled.
"I make it my business to know things," Cassandra said with a slight smile.
"And from everything I have observed and heard, the Duke is a man of honor.
He served his country with distinction. He inherited a troubled estate and immediately set about trying to help his tenants rather than simply enjoying his newfound wealth. "
"How do you know all this?" Anthea asked, startled.
"I make inquiries about eligible Dukes," Cassandra said simply. "Particularly ones who seem utterly lost at Society events."
Anthea thought of Gregory's obvious discomfort at the ball. The way he had retreated to the library as though seeking sanctuary. "He does not belong here. In this world of false smiles and hidden meanings. He is too direct. Too honest."
"Which is precisely why he needs someone who can navigate it for him," Cassandra said. "Someone like you." She squeezed Anthea's hand. "I am not saying you must accept his offer. That decision is yours alone. But do not let fear make it for you. You deserve better than that."
Anthea nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and made her escape before Cassandra could offer any additional uncomfortable insights.
But as her carriage rattled through the London streets toward home, she could not stop thinking about what her friend had said.
Do not let fear make the decision.
Because she was afraid. Terrified, in fact. Not of the Duke himself, but of what accepting his offer would mean. Re-entering the world she had spent three years avoiding. Trusting a man with her future. Risking her carefully constructed peace.
And more frightening still—acknowledging the unwanted attraction that hummed beneath her skin whenever she thought of him. The way her pulse had quickened when they stood close together. The treacherous awareness that defied every rational reason to keep her distance.
Gregory Briarson was not Maxwell Tinkett. The Duke had been honest with her from the start. He had not pretended affection or promised romance. He had offered exactly what he said: a partnership. Practical. Businesslike.
Except it did not feel safe. Not when she remembered the way his eyes had darkened when they argued. Not when she recalled the heat of his presence despite their mutual antagonism.
You are attracted to him, she admitted with brutal honesty. And that terrifies you.
The carriage pulled up before her townhouse. She was no closer to a decision than she had been when she left.
Marry the Duke and secure her sisters' futures—but risk her own hard-won peace.
Refuse the Duke and maintain her independence—but watch her sisters suffer.
There was no good option. No choice that did not require sacrifice.
And she had until tomorrow to decide.