Page 11 of A Treacherous Bet to Win a Duchess

Chapter 5

Anthony sat alone in his study with his head in his hands. He was irritated with two people: Cecilia and himself. At her, for stepping out of line—and in front of the servants and Miss Meyer, no less! At himself, for overreacting.

Was it an overreaction, though?

He started pacing around the room to ease his restlessness. Perhaps he should not have been so harsh with Cecilia. Perhaps he was a tad too defensive regarding his whereabouts. And perhaps he was ashamed. But why should he be? Nothing scandalous happened. He and the old chaps just drank, sang, and told stories like they used to back in university.

But how could you laugh so heartily—and so soon—after mother’s death?

A relentless inner voice was gnawing at his conscience. It was taunting and judging him. It was as if the alcohol had awoken it and now Anthony found himself totally incapable of putting it back to sleep.

Oh, if only Colin or Kenneth were here.

* * *

Mr. Hugh Fletcher paced outside His Grace’s study. After today’s events, he had decided it was in his best interests to come forward with the truth. He paused briefly to take out his handkerchief and wipe the sweat off his brow.

Yes, His Grace has just had his dinner. Surely, he is significantly more relaxed now. Yes, now would be a most opportune time. Moreover, I cannot take one more wretched night of sleeplessness.

With that, he hastily stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket, steeled himself, and knocked on the study door.

“Yes? Come in.”

“Your Grace, I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, no, not at all, Fletcher. Do come in.”

Instantly, Hugh knew His Grace was lying. He had known the Duke since he was an infant, so he could immediately sense that His Grace had still not yet completely cooled off. In fact, it seemed that the Duke himself had also been pacing around the room before Hugh had entered. Having realized that he had chosen an awful time to confess, Hugh started to panic.

His Grace is clearly still quite upset! There is no way I can come forward at this time.

“Well, Fletcher?”

No, I won’t lie again. I must confess! It is now or never.

“Your Grace, there is a matter I wish to discuss. However, I am afraid it will most certainly cause you deep displeasure.”

Before the Duke could press for details, they were interrupted by another knock on the door. It was Mrs. Oakley accompanying Miss Meyer for her appointment with the Duke. Inwardly, Fletcher heaved a sigh of relief.

His Grace thanked Mrs. Oakley and then turned to Fletcher, “My sincere apologies, Fletcher. But I do not believe it polite to keep a lady waiting. Would it suit you to discuss the matter after I have met with Miss Meyer?”

“Most certainly, Your Grace.”

* * *

To say that Meredith was nervous would be an offensive understatement. She sat totally straight with her hands on her lap, doing her utmost to stop her leg from bouncing up and down. Sitting across from her at his desk was the Duke himself, wearing his usual half-smile.

After clearing his throat, he began.

“I thank you for meeting with me, Miss Meyer. I trust that you are settling in with no difficulty?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I am forever grateful for your kind generosity.”

The Duke seemed unaffected by Meredith’s gratitude.

It is most likely because he has heard similar sentiments many times over throughout his lifetime.

He replied, “Yes, quite. That is excellent to hear. And might I ask how your first lesson with Cecilia went?”