Page 5 of My Demanding Duke (Forbidden Love #2)
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DUKE OF Falconbridge had only left the room, when the door was thrown open again to reveal Lady Limehouse. Her fur lined cape was thrown haphazardly over her evening gown, which led Anna to guess that she had chased the duke from the Coleridge’s ball.
“My dear,” the viscountess gushed, as she hurried toward Anna, “Are you alright? Did Falconbridge - did he - did he…harm you in anyway?”
Anna shook her head in reply; dark cad though he was, the duke had not strayed past the bounds of propriety.
“What did he say?” Lady Limehouse continued, as she placed her hand on Anna’s arm and guided her toward the settee.
“He said that had I reneged upon our agreement.”
Lady Limehouse inhaled sharply at Anna’s flat answer.
“You mean he no longer wishes to marry you?” she fretted, her brow creased, “Why, this is a sure disaster-”
“No, he still wishes to marry me,” Anna interrupted, struggling to quell her quivering bottom lip, “Only now he sees no advantage in a long engagement - he wishes us to wed tomorrow!”
Anna’s outraged tone was not met with the response for which she had hoped; instead of sharing her indignation, Lady Limehouse let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank heaven for that,” the viscountess said, as she retrieved a fan from her reticule to cool herself.
Anna scrunched her nose in confusion, unable to comprehend Lady Limehouse’s response to her dreadful news. The viscountess caught sight of her confused expression and offered her a smile of condolence.
“I know that you do not wish to marry Falconbridge, Anna,” she said, reaching out to take Anna’s hand, “But now you must.”
“Because my father sold my hand at a card game?” Anna questioned, trying to keep the mutiny she felt from her voice. “I can live with the shame of that; heaven knows that I have lived with worse, thanks to father.”
Lady Limehouse’s grip on Anna’s hand became tighter and the older woman’s eyes welled with sympathy. Anna, ashamed of her outburst, dropped her gaze to her lap.
“How I wish that I had known just how much you suffered, Anna,” Lady Limehouse replied, a slight catch in her voice, “I would have pushed harder for your father to allow you spend time with me.”
She trailed off for a moment, lost in regret. Guilt stirred in Anna’s belly; she was not the viscountess’ responsibility. They were not even blood relations.
Anna made to reassure Lady Limehouse, but before she could, she was silenced with a wave of a silk-gloved hand.
“No,” Lady Limehouse said firmly, “Let me say my piece. You must marry Falconbridge in the morning Anna, not just because your father promised your hand to him, but because by receiving the duke here tonight, whilst alone, you are now compromised.”
“C—c-compromised?” Anna stammered, aghast at the very suggestion, “My lady, you know well that nothing happened between the duke and I.”
“I do,” Lady Limehouse answered, evenly, “But the ton will not see matters in the same light. I have no doubt that Falconbridge was observed arriving in his ostentatious carriage. Tongues will begin to wag and by morning your reputation will be sullied beyond repair. Unless -”
“Unless I marry the duke,” Anna finished for her.
A wave of despair hit her, so fierce that she felt winded. She closed her eyes against the panic which welled in her chest, determined not to cry.
Lady Limehouse took her hand again, her grip steady and reassuring.
“I knew your mama well,” the viscountess said, her voice as stiff as her posture, “I am not fond of expressing sentimental notions, but I do believe that such an advantageous marriage is what your mama would have wanted for you, Anna. She would not have liked to think of you living with your father, with your future so uncertain .”
A tactful way to describe life with papa, Anna thought, allowing herself a moment to be amused. For a moment, she imagined what it would be like, to wake up in the morning and not have to worry about debts, unpaid bills, or if papa had gambled away the servants’ wages.
As enticing a dream as that was, it was overshadowed by the thought that she would also wake up each morning next to the Duke of Falconbridge.
“Tomorrow night, you will be sleeping under my roof.”
Anna shivered a little, as she recalled the satisfaction with which the duke had spoken those words. He had not overtly implied it, but the dark glint in his eye and the cruel curl of his lip had suggested that not much sleep would be had.
Lady Limehouse, unable to read minds, interpreted her shiver as a sign of fatigue.
“My dear, you must rest,” she insisted, guiding Anna from her seat to a stand, “I will have a word with the servants and ensure that the house is in order tomorrow for the ceremony.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want the duke pass comment on the dust in the parlour room,” Anna replied, dryly.
“We would not,” Lady Limehouse agreed, refusing to be baited by her sarcasm, “Nor shall he - or his mama, for that matter - find you wanting. Your dress will be fresh, your trousseau packed, and we will offer the guests some form of refreshment.”
The duke was hardly what Anna would class as a “guest”, given that he had forced his way into her life, but she kept this thought to herself.
“I will have one of my footmen scour the local inns for your father,” the viscountess continued, as she led Anna toward the hall, “It is only right that he is here too.”
Again, Anna kept her thoughts on this matter to herself. There was plenty that she wished to say about her father, but all of the fight had left her body and she felt almost weak.
“The servants,” she whispered to the viscountess, as they reached the door, “Can you get word to the duke that I shall not agree to anything, unless I can bring them with me?”
“Of course,” Lady Limehouse assured her, “Leave everything to me.”
Though it went against her nature, having been the person who for so long fixed every problem that arose in the household, Anna ceded to Lady Limehouse’s command. There was a comfort in having someone else take care of matters, she conceded, as she walked past a pale-faced Josie to the staircase.
She floated up the runners in a daze to her bed chamber, where she undressed and donned her nightrail. To her surprise, the moment she crawled into bed she had to struggle against the heaviness of her eyelids.
Perhaps it is the shock, she thought, as she drifted off to sleep. A deep sleep, which was filled with images of the Duke of Falconbridge, some frightening, some strange, and some which thrilled her to her deepest core.
The closest Anna had ever come to marriage in her short life, was a few years prior when a solicitor from Whitby had taken to calling on her, after they had shared a dance at the local assembly rooms. The solicitor’s attentions had been fleeting, coming to an abrupt end at the same time that Lord Mosley lost one-hundred acres of land to a farmer whilst playing cards in the local inn.
Although Anna was initially hurt, she did not begrudge Mr William Dalton for deciding that taking her hand in marriage might prove an act more expensive than its worth. If she were a man, she would probably have made the same choice to stay as far as possible from a profligate gambler like Lord Mosley.
As the experience with Mr Dalton took up the entirety of her romantic history, Anna had never bothered herself with daydreams of weddings or husbands. In fact, she had never once imagined what her wedding morning would look like, for it had seemed a fool’s errand to daydream about such things.
If she had imagined it however, she was certain that she might have imagined something happier than the morning she had spent.
From the moment she awoke, she had been haunted by the sound of the pendulum ticking in the longcase clock in the hallway, counting down her last hours of freedom. Josie had tried her best to keep up a constant stream of chatter, as she assisted Anna with her toilette. When the time came to dress, however, even Josie’s indefatigable cheer wavered.
“Nothing’s ever as bad as you imagine,” the lady’s maid assured, as she buttoned up the last of the pearl closings on the gown Anna was to wear.
Hardly the bracing words a bride expected on the morning of her wedding, Anna thought wryly, as she observed herself in the mirror.
The gown was a simple white, morning dress of white lace over a pink satin petticoat. The bodice was lightly embroidered with pearls and every time Anna caught sight of them, she thought of the old nursery rhyme.
“Marry in pearl, your life will be a whirl,” she said aloud to Josie, who clucked in response.
“Better than red,” the lady’s maid answered, as she set about pinning up Anna’s hair, “Marry in red, you’ll wish yourself dead.”
“Were there no crimson gowns amongst the pile to choose from?” Anna asked dryly, her words earning her a thwack from the hairbrush in Josie’s hand.
“Things aren’t that bad, Miss Anna,” Josie admonished, “His Grace seems intent on looking after you properly.”
As opposed to father, who did not look after her at all, Anna thought, finishing in her head that which Josie was too polite to say aloud.
“And he’s handsome,” Josie added wickedly, when she did not reply.
“If you like that sort of thing in a man.”
“Tall, dark, and unfathomably rich, you mean?” Josie chuckled, “I don’t think I’d object—though I wouldn’t have the energy in me, for one so young as he.”
Anna blushed, which caused Josie to exclaim in despair.
“Oh, don’t look so frightened my dear,” she whispered, pulling Anna into a brief hug. “It won’t be so bad. Not that I’d have any knowledge of it, but men like the duke are said to be very gentle when it comes to those matters.”
Anna almost laughed at the idea of anyone describing the Duke of Falconbridge as a gentle lover. Even a girl as green as she knew of his reputation. Funnier still, she thought as she squeezed Josie hard, was the scene she and her lady’s maid painted. Josie had as much experience in love making as Anna. Her advice on the matrimonial bed was a definite case of the blind leading the blind—right into the wolf’s den.
Josie was prevented from offering any further words of wisdom, as the sound of knocking on the front door indicated that their guests had begun to arrive.
“Lawks! Look at me all teary-eyed, when I haven’t yet finished dressing your hair,” Josie cried.
She sprang into action, neatly pinning the last of Anna’s hair, before pulling a few tendrils free to frame her face.
“Pretty as a picture,” Josie declared, once finished, “Oh, if only your mother was here to see you.”
Josie’s tear-stained cheeks quelled the dry retort on the tip of her tongue. If Anna’s mother was still alive they wouldn’t be here, dressing Anna for a marriage she had been sold into.
“I wonder if father will be here to witness the joyous union?” Anna replied, in a bid to change the subject. Talk of her mother was too painful to bear at the best of times and today was most certainly not the best of times.
Anna’s question on her father’s whereabouts was soon answered by Lady Limehouse who knocked on the door to alert the pair that it was near time to begin.
“I will escort you down, child,” the viscountess said, after declaring Anna the most beautiful bride she had ever seen.
For a moment, Anna refused to meet the viscountess’ eye. Shame coursed through her body as she realised the truth; her father had not been found and would miss his only child’s wedding.
Lady Limehouse waited nervously, expecting Anna to question Lord Mosley’s absence. However, she could not bring herself to do so, for that would be an acknowledgement of the hurt she felt.
“How kind you are, my lady,” Anna said brightly, linking her arm through the viscountess’. “Lead the way.”