Page 12 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)
CHAPTER 12
One Week Later
“D ear God, Elinor. What have you done?”
Philip raced into his sister’s room, his cravat hanging loosely around his neck. He had been in the middle of his preparations for the evening when a footman had come to him on behalf of Elinor’s maid.
His sister sat in the middle of her bedchambers, surrounded by her effects. The scene looked like a battlefield; she had ransacked the place.
A fire roared in the hearth, casting an orange glow over her madness. Jewelry, gowns, and books were scattered all around her. Open diaries, trunks, and trinket boxes—everything she had ever owned had been cast on the floor.
Philip crept inside on stockinged feet, avoiding what possessions he could. He reached a hand out to Elinor, pushing down his rising fear. Sobs were still erupting from her as she turned her red, swollen eyes up to him.
“I’ve lost it,” she sniffled. “Graham’s ring. His mother’s ring. It’s gone.”
“What?” Philip dropped into a crouch, placing a nervous hand on her back. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve merely misplaced it. We’ll find it.”
“No, Philip. It’s gone .” She cast her arm out wide, gesturing to the chaos around them. “Do you not think I would have found it by now? Look at this place. I must have dropped it somewhere outside or in one of the houses. I haven’t seen it for months. Oh, his poor ring…”
It was a painful sight. Philip could hardly bear to look at Elinor. She was in her night chemise, her dark hair tumbling down her back. How long had she been tearing her room apart? Her fingers were trembling, her nails broken intermittently. She dug them into her hair, rocking herself back and forth.
“It’s alright,” Philip soothed, cradling her in his arms. He hadn’t held Elinor like this since they were children. Maybe not even then. “It’s just a ring, Elinor. Even if we don’t find it. It’s just a ring.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she cried into his chest. “These things… These accursed things. They are all I have left of him. And that ring… I meant to give it to you, and…” She looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears. “It’s all such a mess.”
Philip clenched his jaw, looking around them. There was nothing he could do to help her find it tonight—assuming it was still in the house. He vaguely recalled the ring she was talking about. It had been Graham’s mother’s wedding ring. The marchioness had passed it down to Elinor as a wedding gift. He didn’t know why Elinor wanted him to have it—perhaps so that he had more things of Graham’s to keep his memory alive.
“I’ll remain here with you,” he said, releasing her so that he could look at her. “We’ll have someone tidy your room, and in the meantime, you and I will go downstairs?—”
She shook her head, pushing him away gently. “I love you, but I don’t want a drink, and I don’t want to talk. I just want to find that ring.”
He must have looked pained, because Elinor quickly apologized.
“I appreciate you, brother. More than I can say.” She frowned, shaking her head. “But you have to go. I don’t want you to see me like this. And I especially don’t want you to become this —which you will if you start avoiding society. Just go. Things will be better when you return.”
He didn’t want to leave her in that state, but he feared that remaining would only make things worse. And there were other reasons he needed to go out tonight. Reasons he could not share with his sister.
Rising, he pulled Elinor to her feet and steadied her.
“You won’t be gone for long. Don’t worry about me,” she reassured him. “Nothing terrible can happen in just one night.”
* * *
Anna clutched the pearl strap of her reticule so hard that she could feel it leaving marks on her palm. Her mother stood beside her, leading her into the Ratley ballroom, where her father awaited them.
The earl had arrived ahead of them, having been forced to take a separate carriage, what with Anna running late. She had delayed their departure that evening as long as possible—the last in the series of misdemeanors she had been treating her parents to that week.
“Correct yourself and stand up straight,” her mother scolded. “Such a disagreeable girl… You are lucky we allowed you to come at all after your antics this past week. I had half a mind to leave you at home.”
“I do not believe I have done anything out of the ordinary,” Anna said, feigning innocence. They had joined the stream of other guests waiting to be announced by the master of ceremonies. Colorful feather headdresses peeked over the crush. “I have remained in my chambers, the library, the music room?—”
“From where you played incessantly during every social call this week, refusing to greet our guests? From where you have tyrannized your father and me in this petty act of rebellion?” her mother scoffed in disgust. “You are too old to be behaving so childishly.”
“I am not yet married, nor do I have an income of my own. You have proven that I am entirely dependent on the two of you. In that regard, I am still a child, and thereby have been acting accordingly.”
Anna struggled to conceal her smile as her mother quietly seethed beside her. If her freedom was coming to an end, she planned to enjoy every last moment of it while she could.
They were announced in due time and escorted into the ballroom proper. The Viscount Ratley and his wife had dominated the echelons of high society since their daughter had caught the eye of one of the princes the Season prior. Their wealth was almost as impressive as their connections. Their home, one of the largest private houses in Westminster, had been decorated in a style befitting royalty.
Anna and her mother passed between two potted palms on their way into the ballroom. A large glass ceiling rose overhead. The cream-colored walls glittered with sconces, illuminating the dancers on the floor and the crowds surrounding them.
There must have been two hundred people present that evening, if not more. It was the perfect place for her father to start spreading the news of her betrothal to Lord Ashwicken.
Scanning the room, Anna was flooded with relief at the sight of her friends by one of the refreshment tables. Without warning her mother, she took off in their direction. She heard Rosamund cry, “Anna!” behind her, but she didn’t bother looking back.
“You’re here?” Margaret squeaked, pulling her into a quick embrace. The other girls gathered around them. “We didn’t think you were going to come.”
“Oh, Anna. You’re so much braver than I am,” Lucy said, taking Anna’s arm and stroking it. “I would have stayed at home and refused to show my face.”
“Have you seen him yet?” Sophia asked, passing Anna a glass whose contents looked like water but smelled suspiciously like ratafia. “The Viscount Ashwicken?”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Helena spoke up from the sidelines, pulling Anna out of Margaret’s reach. “Our friend is facing a calamity tonight, and we should all be lending her our utmost support, not assaulting her with our questions and concerns.” She grabbed Anna by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “There is still time to run. I will go with you.”
Anna laughed, downing Sophia’s drink in two gulps.
Margaret gasped. “You’re laughing at a time like this?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Anna said, handing Sophia her empty glass. Her mouth tasted like almonds, confirming her suspicions. “My fate is sealed, and there is nothing to be done. Running away would mean my death, and although that solution sounds more appealing by the day, I will not give my father the satisfaction of destroying me quite so thoroughly.”
“Then you will marry him?” Sophia asked, her face creased with worry. “You cannot seriously think of marrying him.”
“I did not say that either.” Anna sighed, walking toward the refreshment table in search of another drink. Her friends faithfully followed her. “I cannot reject the betrothal outright. If I did, the ton would make me a pariah. Ashwicken is a crook, but at least I know the face of my enemy with him. No…” She snatched up a foul-smelling glass of punch and turned to her friends. “I will not run… I plan to become so insufferable that Ashwicken abandons all hopes of marrying me.”
“I don’t understand,” Margaret said, leaning on the table. “How will you manage that? In your letters, you said that your father was determined to see you marry him no matter the cost.”
“Ashwicken is looking for a serviceable, meek wife. That is how my father presented me to him—how I have always been presented. Little obedient Anna, who would not say boo to a goose.” Anna looked into her glass and took a sip. She would need all the courage she could get that night. “I must show him that he was wrong. I will do nothing to compromise myself in the eyes of the ton, but I will make it so that Ashwicken rues the day he ever laid eyes on me. He will cancel the betrothal, and I will be free to resume life as I knew it. For a moment, at least, until I can come up with a better plan.”
Her friends did not look convinced.
Anna didn’t care what they thought. She was going to escape Ashwicken’s clutches, and this was the safest way to do it.
“If that’s what you want,” Margaret said, “then I will support you.”
“And me,” Helena added.
Sophia and Lucy nodded in tandem.
“That is all I ask,” Anna replied, thanking them. She looked across the ballroom, hoping to find her cousin. “I must find George. Then, my reign of tyranny can begin.”
It did not take long for Anna to locate her cousin once she began looking for him. The manor, and by extension the ballroom, were impossibly large. But George had the advantage of being taller than most gentlemen in the room.
She caught his shock of auburn hair and pushed through the knots in the crowds to meet him. He was standing with a group of gentlemen by the doors leading to the terrace behind the house, laughing about something that did not seem like suitable ballroom conversation.
It was cooler here, and Anna relished the fresh air on her skin as she approached his group. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the doors, the scarlet color of her dress chosen as an homage to her night at the opera.
“A-Anna?” George stammered, looking at her wildly. He almost dropped the glass of punch he was holding, promptly handing it to the man beside him. “What are you doing? Where is your father?”
“I have no idea, cousin,” Anna said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I shook him off even before I arrived.”
A wave of surprised laughter rippled through the group of gentlemen. It was entirely improper for a young woman to approach a group of men alone. But Anna knew this—liked it. She took in the faces of the men one by one, recognizing George’s riding friends, and Simon Stockton, and?—
“Your Grace,” she gasped.
The Duke of Wells glowered at her from across the group. He was dressed in a black velvet overcoat, his dark hair curling beneath his ears. He’d had cut it shorter since she had last seen him.
His new appearance, and the surprise of seeing him there, knocked the breath from her lungs.
“Lady Anna,” he greeted in turn, nodding once. Anna saw through the veil of his politeness. He was amused but also concerned about her interruption. “You are looking well this evening.”
“And I am feeling well,” she replied, maintaining her composure. “Despite the circumstances,” she added under her breath. She grabbed the dance card that hung loosely from her wrist, flashing it at them. “I was wondering whether one of you fine gentlemen would like to accompany me to the dance floor.”
“Anna, what—” George broke off, straightening his cravat. “This is highly unlike you.”
Highly unlike most women . I can’t think of a greater faux pas than asking a man to dance. When Ashwicken hears of this, he will be mortified.
She fixed Philip with a stare, hoping that out of all of them, he would understand her situation and invite her to dance. His lips parted in surprise, but then he turned away from her.
Anna raged inwardly. He hadn’t thought twice about helping her before. What had changed?
“Oh, come on then,” Simon said, slicing through the group and taking her dance card.
He was a handsome gentleman in his own right—tall, with a long, narrow nose and short blonde hair. Anna had never felt at ease around him. He was too confident, too smarmy. But on this occasion, he was her hero, and she loved him for it.
“These are all awful,” he complained, going down the list of dances. “A quadrille is next. I suppose that will have to do. Don’t embarrass me, Lady Anna.”
“Never, my lord,” she joked back as he led her toward the edge of the dance floor.
She cast a look over her shoulder at George, hoping he would forgive her impropriety. Instead, she caught Philip’s eye. He was leveling Simon with a dark look. It confused her, but there was no time to dwell on it. The music had just begun, and they were late to take their positions.
Simon grabbed her arm and pulled her into line. She let out a laugh as he grinned at her, dancing the first steps with an enviable lack of enthusiasm. Anna glanced around her, hoping to see a few familiar faces in the crowd.
Her father and Ashwicken stood side by side at the opposite end of the room to George. The viscount seemed concerned but not upset to see Anna on the dance floor. Her father, on the other hand, looked like he could rip her head off her shoulders. She smiled at him and danced more wildly, trading partners with the lady beside her until it came time for her and Simon to dance together again.
“I’ve been embroiled in some sort of plot,” Simon guessed as they twirled around the dance floor. “I can tell from the way you’re looking around. Subtlety is not your forte. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Anna. I’ve known you long enough not to be offended. Who are we hoping to render green with envy tonight?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Anna replied, stumbling over her next step and correcting herself. It made Simon laugh. “I saw you from across the room and felt compelled to dance with you, even if you make me miss all the important steps.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Let me guess,” Simon said teasingly. “This has something to do with the little black cloud that’s been hanging over George all week. Oh, he’s tried his best to hide it from me. But I can always tell when he’s upsetting himself with something. I wager he worries more about you and the Seconda Donna than you worry about yourselves. Tell me I’m wrong. This theatre, you storming over to us… It’s about ruffling someone’s feathers—but whose?”
Anna kept quiet. Even though Simon was a good sport, she couldn’t risk saying anything about her father’s plans yet. Thankfully, their dance was coming to an end.
Simon chuckled, releasing her from his hold as the song ended.
“So secretive,” he drawled. “I must discover the truth, or I won’t sleep tonight.”
“You are kind to trade a restless night for my peace of mind,” Anna said, bowing when he did. “Thank you, Lord Stockton.”
“Anytime,” he returned. “Shall I escort you back to Georgie?”
Anna knew that was the proper thing to do—to be returned to George if not her father. All the more reason for her to remain by herself.
“I can find my own way back. Enjoy your evening.”
They parted ways, and Anna could feel a chain of concerned looks follow her every move.
She headed for the doors of the terrace, hoping she could hide there for a moment while her father rampaged, trying to find her. He had always encouraged her to dance at soirées, and she had always struggled to find partners. He knew what dancing with Simon that night would mean, and he would not be pleased—especially with Ashwicken as a witness to her disrespect.
The crowd was more tangled by the doors, providing a shield between her and her father. She squeezed her way to freedom, surprised to find the terrace vacant on that mild February night.
It wasn’t that long until March, when spring would commence and announce the beginning of the wedding season. The timing was awful. Anna paused a moment by the balustrade, admiring the gardens behind the Ratley house.
What would become of her if her plan failed? If Ashwicken and her father went through with the betrothal anyway?
She supposed it had been too much to insist on securing a genuine match, like they did in the stories. Maybe it was her fault. She had been too shy. She had waited for too long. She had had too much hope that her life would sort itself out without any intervention on her part.
“This course of action will only end in your downfall,” a voice said from behind her, as though reading her thoughts. “You’re cleverer than this, Anna. Think seriously about your next move.”