Page 63 of A Treacherous Bet to Win a Duchess

Anthony was almost offended.

“Meredith, how can you call me Anthony but speak to me as though I was still His Grace to you?” He took her cup and saucer out of her hands and put them on the table.

* * *

Rendered speechless by both his unexpected question and quick movements, Meredith was perfectly still as Anthony scooped both of her hands in his.

This action brought something peculiar to her attention—namely that her hands felt quite different. Almost as though these were not her hands, but instead they belonged to someone else.

How preposterous! Of course these are mine, aren’t they?

And then she realized what had changed about her hands, they were now considerably softer than when she had first arrived. Ma’am Tabitha had quite calloused hands; hands that were hardened by decades of cooking, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, the lot. Meredith’s hands had also begun to harden after she started helping out.

But now as she gave them to Anthony, it was evident that they had become considerably softer since her coming to the estate.

“Meredith?”

“Hmm?”

He gently stroked the back of her hands with his thumb.

“Do you still think of me merely as your employer?”

Meredith gave this question some thought. She looked him over, starting from their joined hands all the way up to his kind, emerald-like green eyes.

“I don’t know what to think, Anthony. This past week has been quite disorientating. I should be happy, and I am. But a part of me is scared that none of this is real. Everything seems too good to be true. I just don’t know what to do.”

His reaction was something else entirely—he began to laugh. It got to a point where he was laughing so much that he had to let go of her hands and endeavor to regain his composure.

Meredith frowned. This was quite possibly the worst way anyone could have reacted to what she had just said. When at last he was able to look her in the eye again, she saw that his had slightly welled up from the laughter.

With a chuckle and a quick rub of his right eye, he explained.

“I do beg your pardon, Meredith. It’s just, that wasexactlywhat I was thinking. You have managed to express my exact sentiments.”

“And do you know what? I take that as a sign that we’re doing something right. We might not know exactly what that is at the moment, but our admittance of that fact has lifted a tremendous weight off my heart and mind. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think so. Yes, I think I know what you mean. We are just as lost as each other, and that is somehow a good thing?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Exactly! Oh, come now! Don’t look so confused. Here, I shall get you your books, dearest Meredith. But would you be willing to do me a favor?”

“Of course, Anthony! What do you need?”

Even though no one else was around, Anthony leaned closer.

“Since Cecilia is not yet aware of… us, the only day we are truly free to spend together is Sunday. I would like to take you somewhere.”

Meredith could barely concentrate on what he was saying since he was now quite close to her once more. She was grateful that they were no longer holding hands because her palms had suddenly begun to perspire.

In a hushed whisper she exclaimed.

“What? Where could we go? We haven’t even told Cecilia or Lords Farellshire and Gillinghamshire!”

Anthony’s emerald eyes glimmered mischievously.

“Don’t worry about that for now! I shall have everything ready by Sunday.”