Chapter 2
Anna was awoken by an arrival the following morning.
She had slept late, as she often did, and so her lady's maid Emma dressed her quickly, and then she made her way to the drawing room, where her guest had been taken.
He was an average-sized man with messy black hair and small, dark eyes. He rather resembled a shrew, and Anna had to bite back a smile at the thought.
“Good day,” she greeted. “My apologies, I was not expecting company today.”
“I know,” he replied. “That is a part of the problem. My name is Sir Walter Gale, the Earl of Vernon. I am a cousin of your husband.”
“Is that so? My husband never mentioned a cousin, so you must forgive me if I am rather skeptical. When one has a position such as mine, there are plenty of people who wish to take advantage of me.”
“I understand, Your Grace. Fortunately, I am not here to ask anything of you. Not yet, at least. Instead, I have come to give you a word of warning.”
Anna narrowed her eyes, then took a seat. Sir Gale, on the other hand, paced the floor, looking around as if he were sizing it all up.
“Very well.” She said at last.
“You see, Your Grace, I am aware of the fact that your husband has been absent for a year now. You may not know this, but there is a stipulation that your husband must fulfil his role in order to keep his estate.”
Anna felt a chill, but that was not out of the ordinary at Wutherton Manor.
“As you know,” he continued, “your husband is absent and therefore cannot do his duties. As it has now been a year, I am afraid that the trustees will soon assume management of all financial functions tied to the dukedom.”
“But that is– Sir, you must be mistaken. Our estates are taken care of, and my husband does not need to reside here in order to handle them.”
“Be that as it may, he knows what he has to do. He is also aware of the consequences that will come of his not fulfilling such obligations.”
She felt herself twitch. It was even worse that there was a stranger making such suggestions.
Wutherton Manor might never have truly felt like a home to her, but she did not wish to leave it behind.
Where would she go? Back to her father, whose dismissal was made all the more painful by his physical presence?
At least here she had control of her situation.
“I shall write to him,” she said finally. “I thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
“That is not enough,” he replied, standing over her where she sat. “But I can help you.”
Anna rose to her feet, not liking the way he was looming over her.
She knew the sort of man he was. She’d seen enough like him crowding her father, pressing for charitable donations and more “in the name of your dear wife”.
It did not matter that he had seemingly come in good faith; he was too close for her to think that he had propriety at the forefront of his thoughts.
“And how do you propose you can do that?”
“I am one of the trustees. I will be able to influence the others, given that I am family to him.”
At that moment, he raised his hand and touched her cheek. It burned, and she backed away instinctively. She did not want him to touch her, and she certainly did not want him to continue looking at her the way he was, his lopsided grin revealing gaps where his teeth were missing.
“You may leave now,” she replied, but he simply stepped closer to her.
“Everything comes at a cost, Your Grace. If you give me what I want, I will ensure you are very well taken care of.”
His hand returned, this time to her waist. His touch felt like poison, but each time she pushed him away, it only encouraged him further. It was evident what he wanted, and it sickened her.
“Leave,” she said firmly, though her voice was more panicked than she would have liked. “Or I shall have you thrown out. I will not be spoken to in this way, nor will I allow you to make such advances.”
“Of course,” he smiled, slinking away to the door before lingering. “But remember this: I am the only way that you can save yourself. After all, how can a duchess be without a home?”
“Go.”
“I will. In the meantime, send for your husband, and see if he can stop me.”
Without thinking of propriety, she stormed to him, her hands on the backs of his shoulders, and shoved him hard, repeating her instruction to leave. He gave her a mocking smile as he went, winking before turning away and not looking back.
Anna’s pulse did not return to normal until long after he had left. She was mortified at being spoken to in such a way, but it was more than that.
She was terrified.
“Are you alright, Your Grace?” her lady’s maid asked as she entered the room.
“Yes, quite.”
But she was not. She needed her husband. She needed Spencer to come home and be the Duke that he always needed to be, but he had never cared for his role, and he had never cared for her, which meant she would be left in need.
Unless, of course, she could force his hand.
“Actually,” she said quickly, “might you assist me with something?”
“Certainly. What did you have in mind?”
She was uncertain, but once they sat at her desk, the plan formed in her mind. She did not know where Spencer was, and so she could not write to him, but she did know the addresses of most people in the ton.
Please join us for a celebration of the life of His Grace, Sir Spencer Madden, the Duke of Wutherton.
Her maid’s eyes widened, and Anna could hardly blame her for that.
“You cannot say that!” she gasped.
“He has left me no choice. Something has to bring him home, Mrs. Phillips. If news of his death is not enough, nothing ever will be. Will you help me write more?”
Her maid sat by her side and wrote more of them without question, and Anna was grateful for that.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Anna replied. “I have never had to plan a funeral, but I shall have to find out quickly.”
Planning a funeral in three days had not been what Anna had in mind when she had her wedding band placed on her finger, but she had done it.
It was easier to plan for the funeral celebration the day after.
Her guests arrived, greeted her solemnly, then went on their way.
It was better that they did that, she considered, than them asking too many questions.
“Hunting lions?” Theodora asked. “In Africa? What were you thinking?”
She had asked in a hushed voice. Anna still found it rather humorous, and she wondered why so many guests had attended without questioning her. It was a completely bizarre way for him to have died, and she had chosen it deliberately.
The more absurd it was, the more likely Spencer was to hear of it.
“I know what I am doing,” she reasoned. “Besides, nobody has thought anything of it. Perhaps my dear husband had more of a reputation than I was aware of.”
“Perhaps,” Theodora replied, though it was clear that she did not quite believe her.
Anna looked around at all of her guests, and part of her wished that she had thought up such a scheme before.
She had gone out of her way to host events, making each one more scandalous than the last, but nobody had said a word to her.
It was an enjoyable evening, though of course she could not show that on her face.
As far as her guests knew, she was a devastated widow, dressed in black and mourning immensely. She played the role well, as far as she was concerned, and when nobody questioned her, she assumed that it had gone off without a hitch.
“I should like to take some air,” she said to Evelina, and the two of them stepped outside.
“I still do not like this,” her friend noted.
“You do not need to. All that matters is that this works, and I believe it will.”
Suddenly, a rustling came from nearby, and Anna silenced herself.
“Can you believe all of this?” a gentleman asked, nearby enough that they could be heard, but not seen. “Her Grace has made a mockery of her husband.”
“Indeed. I only came to see if it was true, but did you see her? She has planned all of this to make a spectacle of herself, and you can tell that she is enjoying it.”
“Why, I would go as far as to suggest that this scandalous behavior of hers is precisely why the Duke left in the first place.”
“I tend to agree with you. One can only stomach such a willful bride for so long before they are driven mad. The poor gentleman probably feels some relief at last.”
Anna turned to confront them, but Evelina took her wrist and pulled her back. She could feel the heat of her skin and the fury in her chest. It simply was not fair that she was spoken of in such a manner when Spencer had been the one to leave of his own accord.
“Do not let them make you reactive. It will not make you look any better.”
“And what do you suppose that I should do?” she snapped. “Whatever I may be now, I was not willful nor insufferable nor any of the other things I am believed to be on my wedding day. I was an obedient young lady doing as instructed, and that was who he ran from.”
“Gentlemen are always seen as the wronged party by their peers, especially when said gentleman is thought to be deceased. I know that this was not your doing, but surely you see why they might…”
Evelina’s voice trailed off, and Anna knew precisely why.
It was not the time to criticize her, though Anna knew what her friend meant.
She was always going to receive backlash for what she had done, and she knew that even when she wrote the invitations.
She could not be angry now that it was actually happening.
Not only that, but her friend did not know the real reason why the party was taking place.
Anna had not had the stomach to tell her friends that she needed to bring her husband back, or risk losing everything.
They thought it was merely some petty revenge and had not asked anything further.
She was grateful to have friends who did not pry, but part of her wished that someone was there for her to weep to.
“I shall go and collect myself,” she explained. “Have Damien and Maria open the ball, and invite the guests to dance, and I shall return promptly.”
“Of course,” her friend replied. “Will you be alright alone?”
“It is how I spend every day,” she laughed, and the two went their separate ways.
She made her way to her room, using the servants’ quarters as a passageway so that she could avoid her guests.
Then again, she considered, if she was seen to be crying, perhaps they might all have taken pity on her at last. It simply was not fair that she had to be the guilty party when all that she had done was treat her husband as he so terribly wished to be treated.
But the ton had no pity, and she’d learned that by now.
She pushed the door open and entered her unlit bedroom. It was dark, and as her eyes adjusted, she saw a figure standing by her bed, silhouetted against the window.
It was a man. She recognized his shape in an instant, his musk filling her mind. She had not expected to remember such small aspects, but he had always had an effect on her that she could not overcome.
For a brief moment, she was his blushing bride again, and she wondered if he saw her that way, too, but then he took a step toward her, and she remembered what she had done.
“Tell me, Duchess,” he said in a low voice, “am I to lie in my coffin now, or would you like to dance first?”