Page 13 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)

CHAPTER 13

A nna’s breath hitched. Philip stood in the gloom, shadowed by the light from the ballroom behind them. He walked toward her with his hands clasped behind his back, taking measured, cautious steps.

“And what course of action do you suppose I am taking?” Anna asked. She struggled to remain calm, her body flaring whenever he was near.

“A desperate one,” he said.

He kept a decent distance between them. She ached for him to draw nearer, like he had in the carriage, taking his propriety as evidence that she had upset him in some way.

“You are trying to anger your father so that he cancels your engagement to the viscount.”

“I am trying to prove that we are ill-suited,” Anna corrected, careful about raising her voice. They were flirting with disaster. It was dark. Anyone could be eavesdropping from the shadows. “If this is the only way to achieve that?—”

“Achieve it by openly disgracing yourself like this?” His voice rose, and he stopped himself. He reduced the gap between them with another impassioned step. “Your plan is flawed.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion. I do remember signaling for your help. Thank goodness your friend stepped in when he did.”

“Now you are being unfair,” Philip said. He wasn’t wrong, and his accusation chastened Anna. “I understood your desire to dance. I wanted to dance with you. But I could not. I have… At war… My body is not what it once was.”

Anna took a startled step back, ashamed of herself. He was injured and couldn’t dance, or feared dancing because it might aggravate an old injury. She thought back to the night of Alicia’s party, when he had told George he couldn’t ride. And in the gardens, when he had walked slowly behind her. How could she have been so blind?

“Oh,” she murmured, thankful that he couldn’t see how mortified she was in the dark. Her hand wrapped around the stone balustrade, grinding against her gloved palm. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It changes nothing. You should not have come seeking a dance partner, regardless. There will be talk among the guests if it hasn’t started already.”

He tilted his head back with a weary expression, then closed the distance between them. Standing beside him, she could barely discern his features in the dark. What little she saw of him made her want to lean in and touch him.

It was not the first time she had felt like this around him. Like he could be a pocket of safety in a storm. She needed to be afraid—of him, of her circumstances.

“Well, what do you suggest I do?” she asked, quickly checking her feelings. “No, I should not even be asking you that. I have told you before that you owe me nothing, and I meant it. You helped me once as George’s friend, and I was grateful. It was selfish of me to expect you to help me again.”

He ignored the latter part of her reply, his dark lashes flitting over lowered eyes. “I would seek out another match if you cannot remain single.”

“How do you propose I do that?” Anna laughed hopelessly. “My father intends to announce the betrothal tonight.”

“I know. George told me,” Philip confessed. “It is part of the reason why I came tonight. I hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. But when I saw you approach us, and then leave with Simon… I felt… You are an impossible woman, Anna.”

“And you are George’s friend.” She watched his eyes rove over the floor, her breaths coming more quickly now that he was near. “You want to help him by helping me. I understand. And you do so because you are…” There were many things he was. Too many to enumerate. “You are kind… and honorable… and…”

Anna froze. Philip’s hand had met hers on the balustrade. His fingers brushed over hers as though testing her receptiveness. She let him explore her hand before he seized her fingers gently in his, not removing them from where they were. She couldn’t move, worried that anything she did would scare him away.

She had never been touched like this by a man—had never dreamed Philip would touch her, even if she had teased him. Being held by him felt like floating. She tore her eyes from their joined hands and tried to read his expression, hoping she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions. His lips were parted slightly, his face boyish but tortured.

“Who did you meet on the night of the opera, Anna?”

His question caught her off-guard. What did the opera have to do with anything?

She flinched, and his hand slid away from hers.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied. “I-I saw no one.”

“You’re lying,” he whispered, finally meeting her gaze. “I know enough about you now to know that. Who was it?”

Anna could not believe what he was asking. Did he know that she had gone to see Alicia? Even if that was the case, it hardly seemed worthy of his concern now.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he was implying, only to be cut off by approaching footsteps.

* * *

“There you are, my dear.”

Philip turned brusquely as Lord Ashwicken emerged from the half-open doors behind them.

George had identified the middle-aged lord with Philip earlier that evening. He was tall—not as tall as Philip, but tall enough to intimidate a young woman like Anna—wearing a dark jacket and breeches that at first made him indiscernible in the dark. His eyes were alight with indignation as they settled on Philip.

“Your Grace,” he greeted. They had never met before tonight, so like Philip, someone must have pointed him out in the crowd. Philip wondered why. “Pray tell, what are you doing out here, alone with my betrothed?”

“You are getting ahead of yourself. From what I gather, she is not your betrothed yet,” Philip replied. He sensed Anna tense beside him and wished he hadn’t put her in this position by following her outside. “Be that as it may, we were merely talking”—he gestured to the terrace doors—“in full view of the rest of the ball. Satisfied, my lord?”

“My satisfaction is irrelevant. I saw Anna dancing with one of your acquaintances. Then, I saw you slip out after her, and I guessed what you intended to do immediately. One rake to reel her in and another to take advantage of her. Anna should not be out here with you and must return inside with me at once.”

If Ashwicken was surprised by Philip’s familiarity with Anna and her circumstances, he didn’t show it. He gestured for Anna to come like someone would beckon a dog over.

“Come now,” Ashwicken ordered, “before your father notices where you have gone. You have been misbehaving greatly tonight, but I am a tolerant fellow, and there are many things I will excuse. Cavorting with a known knave, however?—”

“A knave?” Anna interrupted, stepping past Philip. “He is nothing of the sort. And I will not follow you back inside. I wish to remain here.”

“Lady Anna, be careful,” Philip whispered.

He wanted to tell her to do Ashwicken’s bidding for the moment because being caught alone with him would be a fate worse than death for them both. There was still time to dissolve her betrothal through peaceful means.

“Yes, listen to your friend and do as you are told.” When Anna shook her head, Ashwicken dropped his open hand to his side and stepped toward her. “If you will not listen, you will be taken back by force.”

He swiped for her arm, grabbing her suddenly.

Philip’s anger flared at the sound of Anna’s pained gasp, and before he knew it, he had pushed the viscount away from her.

Ashwicken released Anna, steadying himself from the force of Philip’s attack. He looked up in outrage.

Philip stood his ground. He had misjudged Ashwicken. The viscount was just as bad as the rest of them behind his noble facade. What peaceful resolution could there be now?

“You will not touch her,” Philip said through gritted teeth. “No woman is yours to maltreat. At least now you have revealed yourself for the brute she feared you to be.” He cast a sideways glance at Anna to make sure she was safe, not wanting to take his eyes off Ashwicken for a second. Things could escalate quickly. “Go back inside, Anna.”

“She is going nowhere alone. Evidently, she cannot be trusted.” The viscount straightened his crumpled shirt, then balled his fists at his sides, sneering. “If you think I will be convinced to abandon a good deal by a childish tantrum—or by threats of violence—then you are wrong. My word, my honor, is my bond.”

“Honor?” Philip wanted to laugh. “If you possessed a shred of honor, you would release Lady Anna from this arrangement at once. Why would you force a woman who shrinks from you into a marriage that will only make her miserable? What did her father promise you?”

Ashwicken snickered. “Who are you to question me? What stake do you have in all of this? I am seeking to wed Lady Anna because she is worthy of marriage. Is that so difficult to believe? Do you truly think so little of her that she must be reduced to a bargaining chip in your eyes?”

“Quite the opposite. I believe that she is worthy of marriage and more,” Philip declared with more passion than he had intended. “It is you of whom I think little. What was offered to you? Money? Of course, it was money. Nothing drives a man so quickly to debase himself as money. And you are base, indeed.”

“Yes… You are just as they said you were. The apple never falls far from the tree, does it? A manipulative rake, just like your father. I would be more concerned with the state of my own honor if I were you. Once the ton hears of this… The way you have tricked Lady Anna, lured her outside, poisoned her… This cannot be the first of your secret assignations.”

Ashwicken’s carefully crafted veneer cracked as his face twisted into a snarl. Philip tried his best to remain calm in the face of his goading.

“If she does not harken to me,” Ashwicken continued, “she will harken to her father. He will have plenty to say once he sees this. I suggest you leave, Your Grace. You will not want to witness what comes next, not if you have any consideration for your already fragile reputation.”

He turned on his heel and stormed back into the ballroom, the tails of his jacket flapping in the breeze.

Philip heard Anna’s breath hitch. She staggered back against the balustrade, shaking her head frantically.

“What comes next?” she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut. “What does he mean by that?”

“Does it matter?” Philip seized her gingerly by the shoulders, careful not to scare her after Ashwicken’s earlier assault. He looked down at her arm, checking for a bruise. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “He just surprised me, and then…” She paused, balling her fists. “The things he said about you… That wasn’t right. You must leave. If I cannot be saved from this betrothal, you at least must walk free. My father is a wicked man. If we are seen together… I fear what will happen.”

“Leave and abandon you? It is my fault that Ashwicken is on the path of war. Had I not come out here to speak with you?—”

“Nothing would have changed.” She met his gaze seriously. “You were right—my plan was ridiculous. Ashwicken will not be deterred from marrying me for anything in the world. Please, Your Grace, just leave. I could not bear to see you suffer because of me.”

For a moment, Philip considered doing what she wanted.

Anna was right; she was doomed. He had known it from the moment she had announced her engagement at Alicia’s soirée. Bristol and Ashwicken would never be convinced that she deserved to choose her own path in life.

Philip had already put himself in the line of fire, and with the shadow of his father’s misdeeds hanging over his head, it wouldn’t take much for the ton to turn against him. And if they turned against him, they would turn against Elinor too.

He opened his mouth to say something—maybe a goodbye, that he was sorry. But his hand had unknowingly traveled down Anna’s arm, settling just above her elbow. He stroked the soft skin there with his thumb while he considered his options, feeling his pulse quicken.

There was an inexplicable pull between him and Anna. It grew stronger every time they met. He could not think clearly when she was around, and his weakness had only made things worse for her. Even if Ashwicken changed his mind before their wedding and let her go free, her father would just find another monster for her to marry. She would never know the life she deserved.

Philip’s hand lingered on her arm as a rush of movement sounded behind them.

The Earl of Bristol marched out of the ballroom ahead of Ashwicken. Bristol looked nothing like his daughter—stout and haughty, his face twisted in rage. His exit drew the attention of nearby guests, and they gathered at the doors to see what had happened. The music inside continued to play.

“What is the meaning of this?” the earl shouted. “I demand an explanation. Why are you alone with my daughter? What have you said to her?”

Something wasn’t right about the situation. Philip could tell from the way Ashwicken focused on Bristol with giddy anticipation.

The earl was rumored to be a cruel and calculating man. He would not have caused a scene unless that had been his intention. He had allowed Anna to be compromised on purpose.

Philip scanned the crowd, growing more disappointed and embittered with every head he counted. George stood in the sea of scandalized aristocrats, looking like he was about to be sick.

“There has been a misunderstanding,” Philip called, releasing Anna’s arm. “I have done nothing to compromise Lady Anna. What you are witnessing is a discussion between friends, nothing more.”

“No one here had accused you of compromising her,” Ashwicken said, looking around in shock. “That you would suggest such a thing only reveals your foul designs on her. Did you feel the need to act quickly on your impulses, at the risk of exposing yourself, because you knew that Lady Anna and I planned to announce our betrothal tonight? That must be it. His savage urges cannot be controlled.”

A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd. Philip held in a sigh, wondering how it was possible for these aristocrats—the most important figures of England, lawmakers among them—to believe such a diatribe.

He looked at Anna, wishing he could read her mind.

Her face was pale, but her expression was resolute. The announcement could not be undone. They both knew it. She had been backed into a corner.

The rest was obvious: Ashwicken would present himself as Anna’s savior, willing to marry her no matter what she had done and purge her of Philip’s evil influence. Their marriage would be expedited. The ton would laud the viscount as a hero. Bristol would get what he wanted. Anna would be beyond saving. And Philip would live on in infamy just like his father.

That last part seemed unavoidable now. Perhaps it had always been.

With a sense of sick understanding, Philip smiled at Ashwicken and the earl, knowing what had to be done.

“How well you know me,” he said, speaking loudly for the crowd intent on making him a villain. “Though I have tried to chain my wickedness, I simply could not resist her. Please, revel in this foul design with me.”

Philip turned toward Anna and kissed her.