Chapter 30
Dorian would have preferred to be anywhere else but the Devonshires’ garden party, but Anne had insisted they could not avoid society entirely, not after everything that had happened.
He kept close to her without making it obvious: a hand on her waist when they moved through groups, a brief touch to her back when introductions required politeness, and an instinctive awareness of every direction she might be approached from.
Anne did not seem uncomfortable with it anymore. If anything, she moved closer to him whenever the crowd thickened, as though she had already decided there was no point in pretending that distance was necessary.
They were halfway through a conversation with a local baroness when the tone of a nearby group shifted sharply enough to catch Dorian’s attention.
“Have you heard what became of Lady Vivian Marlowe?” a woman asked, her voice low.
Dorian felt Anne’s hand tighten slightly against his sleeve.
A second voice followed immediately, sharper than the first. “Ruined entirely. My cousin in York says no one will receive her now, not even for afternoon calls. It seems everything about that unfortunate affair with Ashford Hall has finally come to light.”
Dorian’s expression did not change, but something inside him tightened at the ease with which his life had become someone else’s entertainment. Anne glanced at him briefly, but he gave no indication they should leave.
A third voice joined in, sounding older and wiser than the other two. “Mrs. Hargrave told me that Lady Vivian interfered with Ashford’s racing stables. Sabotage, if the accounts are to be believed. And not just that, but manipulation of the Duke of Ashford himself, as well as his wife.”
Dorian felt Anne go still beside him. He did not look at her, but his hand shifted slightly, grounding her without drawing attention.
Another guest let out a soft, scandalized sound. “That cannot be true.”
“It is,” the older woman replied firmly. “It has been confirmed by multiple sources.”
Anne spoke quietly beside him, barely moving her lips. “We are apparently a topic of sport.”
“We always were. Now we are just better informed about it.”
Her lips twitched with amusement, though it faded quickly as the conversation nearby continued.
A younger gentleman, clearly eager to insert himself into the discussion, leaned in with the enthusiasm of someone who enjoyed engaging in gossip more than a gentleman should.
“I heard something even more interesting,” he said brightly. “Lady Vivian believed she could force the Duke of Ashford back to his old ways, as though marriage were merely a lever to move another’s behavior.”
A woman beside him laughed faintly. “How dramatic.”
“It is not merely dramatic,” another voice replied, this one colder, more certain. “It is foolish. You do not try to sabotage Ashford and expect to remain untouched.”
Dorian recognized that voice. It was Sir Harold Finchley, a long-time acquaintance of the Devonshires. He always spoke as though reputation was currency and consequence was inevitable.
“The entire matter has collapsed in on itself,” he continued. “Lady Vivian is finished. There will be no recovery from this.”
A pause followed, and then someone asked the question that hung beneath all of it.
“And Holloway?”
“He will survive,” Finchley replied more slowly, “but only in the way men survive disgrace. No one in racing will trust him again, not after what has been uncovered.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
Dorian rolled his eyes at the exchange, but he noticed that Anne was enjoying it, and that made it more tolerable.
They moved slowly through the edge of the crowd as the conversation shifted, but the damage was already done. Word traveled fast, and it did not take long before another cluster of guests picked up the same thread.
A lady in a pale blue dress, introduced earlier as Lady Pennyworth’s cousin, leaned toward her companion with visible relish. “I do not know which part is more astonishing,” she said, “the fact that Lady Vivian Marlowe believed she could dismantle a duchy, or that she thought no one would notice.”
Her companion laughed behind her fan. “Or that she chose Ashford of all people. One would expect her to have better judgment, even if she were desperate.”
Dorian felt Anne glance at him again. He looked down at her, briefly, and she tilted her head slightly in question. He gave the smallest shake of his head. People would talk. They always would.
A man nearby, older and more reserved than the rest, cleared his throat, and both ladies fell silent. “The truth is simple enough. Lady Vivian underestimated what happens when you attempt to weaponize a man’s marriage.”
“And what happens?”
The man glanced briefly across the lawn, where Dorian and Anne stood close enough that they could have been mistaken for another couple among many. “You find out that some things cannot be turned against a man without consequence.”
“We should leave,” Dorian suggested, “before we become commentary.”
Anne glanced up at him again. “It is rather too late for that.”
“Then at least let us leave while we are still dressed for it.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, and together they began to move away from the edge of the crowd, the voices behind them continuing to ripple across the lawn.
“Does it bother you?” Anne asked softly as they walked.
Dorian considered the question before answering honestly. “No, not anymore.”
Anne looked at him properly now, searching his face. He met her gaze without hesitation.
“It used to matter,” he added. “What people thought meant a lot to me, not to mention what they believed about me and my choices. Now, it only matters that they are wrong about what I almost lost.”
Anne’s expression softened slightly at that, though she said nothing further.
They reached the quieter end of the garden path, where the noise of the party faded into a distant murmur. Dorian exhaled more fully, as though he had been holding something in the entire time without realizing it.
Anne stepped closer without prompting. “You are still going to have to endure this,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he murmured.
She tilted her head slightly. “And you are still going to let them talk?”
Dorian looked out across the estate for a moment before turning back to her. “Yes,” he said simply. “Because this time, I am not losing anything by doing nothing.”
Anne studied him for a long moment, then reached for his hand. This time, he did not check their surroundings. He simply let her take it.
The garden party continued long after they had left, but within Ashford Hall, the consequences had yet to fully settle.
Lady Vivian’s disgrace had already become a part of every conversation. Holloway’s name was beginning to unravel in the same way, yet what Anne told Dorian had unsettled her most was not the public reaction but what it revealed about her own family.
Her mother had not left her home, keeping her distance from them both. They had not seen each other for a long time, but that was to change that day, which Dorian supposed was why Anne was happy to remain at the party.
Unfortunately for her, they both had to face their pasts, whether they were comfortable with it or not.
When they entered the drawing room at Rosemere, her mother was already seated at the table by the window, papers neatly arranged in front of her as though order could still impose itself on a situation that had already shifted beyond control.
She looked up at once, the strain on her face clear, and for a moment, no one spoke.
Then she set her pen down carefully and folded her hands.
“You have heard about Mr. Holloway, yes?”
“Everything that matters,” Dorian replied.
A brief pause followed before she gave a small nod. “Then you know he has left.”
“We do.” Anne nodded. “Although we do not know where he has gone.”
Her mother’s gaze lowered briefly to the papers before returning to them. “He withdrew from Yorkshire before the extent of his involvement became fully public. Fortunately, the rumors have not mentioned me at all, which I ought to be grateful for.”
“What will happen to you now?” Dorian asked.
Her mother hesitated for only a moment before answering, “After Anne’s father died, the estate remained intact on the surface, but the structure underneath was fragile.
There were debts that required management, tenants who required reassurance, and obligations that could not be delayed.
I believed aligning with someone like Holloway would protect what remained. ”
Anne listened without looking away, which brought Dorian a sense of comfort.
“He presented himself as someone capable of maintaining order,” her mother continued.
“He had connections, influence, and confidence. I mistook those for reliability. When I learned what he had done, I ceased all contact. I secured what money I could independently, and I ensured the estate would not be placed under his control again.”
The admission hung in the air for a moment.
“You kept the estate,” Anne whispered.
“I kept what could be protected without him.”
“That must have required a lot of strength,” Dorian acknowledged.
Her mother’s expression flickered, as though the word itself felt unfamiliar. “It required clarity,” she said. “It took time to reach it.”
Silence followed, filled only by the low whistle of wind outside the window.
“You were not dependent on him.” Anne’s voice softened slightly.
Her mother grimaced. “I allowed myself to believe I was, though. That belief shaped many of my decisions, and only now that everything is over have I realized just what I did to you. Anne, you are my daughter. I should have only thought of you, but I was selfish. I will do better, and I will prove to you that you can trust me. I promise.”
There was no pride in the answer, only acknowledgment of everything she had done.
Dorian shifted slightly beside Anne, brushing his hand against hers to ground her without drawing attention.
“You did what you thought you had to do,” she replied.
The silence that followed carried no demand for resolution. It simply acknowledged what had been endured, what had been understood, and what could no longer be undone.
They left soon after, not wanting to have too much happen at once. They all needed time, and fortunately, they had exactly that.
Back at Ashford Hall, Dorian no longer hid behind charm when difficulties arose, nor did he retreat into emotional distance when something unsettled him. He met problems head-on, sometimes with impatience, but without the old instinct to disappear into a version of himself that felt safer.
The change was not dramatic in appearance, but it was unmistakable. Decisions were made more openly, conversations were no longer avoided, and even when frustration rose, it no longer dissolved into silence.
The first place it showed was the stables. A groom hesitated when Dorian entered the following morning, clearly expecting correction from a distance rather than involvement.
“Your Grace, we have adjusted Tempest’s feed as you suggested,” he said carefully, as though testing whether disagreement was permitted again.
Dorian glanced at the ledger in his hands before nodding once. “Show me.”
There was a brief pause before the groom obeyed, leading him further inside.
The uncertainty and need for reassurance would have once irritated Dorian, but he simply observed it and corrected where necessary. When a strap had been fitted incorrectly, he pointed it out without raising his voice.
“It is too tight there. Loosen it by a notch.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
No apology followed, no defensive remark was made. Instead, the adjustment was made, and all was well.
Anne appeared in the doorway not long after, her cloak dusted with the morning mist.
“You have finally taken over,” she said, though there was no accusation in her voice.
Dorian didn’t look up from Tempest’s tack. “I have corrected one strap.”
“That counts as taking over,” she insisted, stepping closer.
The groom quickly busied himself elsewhere.
“Then I suppose I should apologize for stealing your role from you.”
“I will survive; I am certain.”
They walked the length of the stables together, before Anne paused beside Tempest’s stall.
“He is calmer,” Dorian said quietly. “It would seem he has settled here as well as you have.”
That coaxed a small, genuine smile from her, and something in his chest eased at the sight.
As she checked Tempest’s bridle, she glanced over at him. “You are watching too closely,” she drawled.
“I am not.”
“You are,” she said, tightening the leather strap. “You look like you are waiting for something to go wrong.”
Dorian considered denying it out of habit, then stopped himself.
“I used to,” he admitted. “Now I am simply admiring my beautiful wife. Is that such a crime?”
Anne didn’t respond immediately. She just nodded once, but her smile was warm, and she was blushing at the compliment.
Even the staff noticed the change, which Dorian felt immensely proud of.
Later that day, a footman bent his head to a maid as they walked down the corridor. “It’s different here now,” he murmured.
“What is?” the maid asked.
“Everything,” he replied, before they disappeared around the corner.
Dorian heard it but didn’t react. He simply kept walking. Anne did glance at him, though.
“What?” he prompted.
“Nothing,” she said. “I simply had not expected them to notice so soon.”
“They notice everything,” he replied. “It is only that they no longer feel the need to hide their thoughts on the matter.”
Anne let out a quiet laugh in response.
Even Tempest changed. One morning, as Dorian adjusted the saddle, Anne hesitated before speaking.
“He trusts you more now. I cannot quite believe it.”
“Nor can I. I never disliked him, but I will admit that I wanted to change him. I should not have done that, not when embracing who he truly is was what made him so successful.”
“Can I confess something?” she asked, and he nodded. “I do not hate the name you chose for him as much as I said.”
“Diamond was a good name, but not for him. Tempest suits him perfectly, only now the storm arrives when he is on the track and never off of it, which is precisely what I wanted.”
She laughed at that and leaned against his shoulder, and he loved how familiar her weight against him had become.
As they walked back from the stables, Anne slowed slightly beside him.
“It feels different,” she murmured.
Dorian looked toward the house ahead of them. “It does. It was a house before, and now it is a home I shall take great pride in building with you.”
Anne fell quiet for a moment, then nodded once as they continued walking together.
At last, Dorian did not feel as though the life ahead of him was something he might lose if he held it too tightly. All the same, he intended to hold it close to his chest, for it was most precious.