Page 21 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)

CHAPTER 21

“W hat an… unexpected yet intense pleasure to see you both.”

Anna forced her grimace into a smile, standing awkwardly in the doorway of Cotoneaster’s main drawing room. Her family waited inside, their conversation coming to an abrupt halt now that she had made her entrance.

Her mother sat beside her sister in the window seat in the corner—no baby to be seen—as if they were sitting for a painting. Plush cushions, vibrant gowns, rosy cheeks. It was an artist’s dream and Anna’s nightmare.

In the week since she had married Philip, the manor had received a few callers—neighboring lords or gentry folk who had come to pay their respects to the duke and his new wife. Her mother, however, had made no mention of wanting to visit.

Anna was at a disadvantage. She looked down at her plain day dress, feeling embarrassingly drab compared to Rebecca and her luxurious pink traveling attire.

“The duchess descends, at last,” Rosamund said, crossing the room to pull Anna into her arms. She kissed her modestly on the cheek, then held her at arm’s length to inspect her. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

“More like ten minutes. I was only finishing a letter,” Anna lied, not daring to tell her mother the truth—that Elinor was staying with friends overnight, and Philip was nowhere to be seen, so she had spent the greater part of the day reading in bed, stuffing herself with scones, cream, and jam. “Your arrival caught me by surprise.”

“A surprise, yes. I fear there was no time to write. Under normal circumstances, I would never have called so unexpectedly. Rebecca delighted us with a visit yesterday at Bristol Park, but she is needed in York again soon. We had just enough time to bring her down to see you here in Sussex before she is set to depart again. And she did want to see you, most terribly.”

Her mother stepped aside to allow Rebecca to greet her.

Anna tried to hide her dismay, sizing up her sister. Rebecca’s dark blonde hair had been pulled back severely, exposing her enviable features. The clear eyes of their mother, the full lips of their father—she was an English rose to the bone. Despite her new station, Anna still fumed with sisterly envy at the sight of her.

“You won’t be staying long, then?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Rebecca pulled her into a limp hug. “Just long enough to see things with my own eyes. You needn’t bring out your finest tea set on my account.” She released her. “You really are a duchess? Merciful heavens… How did this happen?”

“All things considered, I fear it would take too long to tell the story properly,” Anna replied, hoping that would appease her. “But yes, I really am a duchess. Shall I fetch my marriage contract to prove it?”

Rebecca scoffed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard everything already. She was the apple of their mother’s eye—and the receptacle of all her secrets and gossip.

“I would much rather you fetch your husband so I might make his acquaintance,” Rebecca teased. “There has been ample talk about him in Somerset. Father is most pleased. An earl for a son-in-law was exactly what he expected. But a duke? And from your side?” She blinked hard.

“News of your engagement reached the backwaters of York in due time. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw your name in the society columns, saying you were to be married to the Duke of Wells. I forced Bertram to inquire whether there were other Anna Walfords or Philip Wilmingtons in existence. And when my husband came back with the news that there was not… I still could not believe it.”

“There was no option to delay the wedding to facilitate your attendance,” the countess explained, looking afraid that she had offended her favorite daughter. “His Grace insisted on obtaining a special license.”

“And while you sent a rider, there was no time for me to organize myself in time, I know. We’ve gone over all of this.” Rebecca flicked her hand in the air, returning her attention to Anna.

“I would have liked to have been there,” she added with surprising sincerity. “Things have not always been easy between you and me, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t always wished the best for you. Thus I would be remiss, as your sister, if I did not make sure that you understood what this new life of yours will entail.”

“I am more than aware of the constraints and demands of my marriage, thank you very much,” Anna said with a little vitriol. “But I see you’re wasting no time getting to business. Most people might have started a reunion by asking me how I’m feeling.”

“Oh, Anna. Can you blame me for being direct?” Rebecca looked for the nearest chair and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. “I have taken carriage rides that lasted longer than your betrothal. Becoming a duchess will be no easy task. I can see the cracks starting to form already, and when they do, the whole house will crash down upon you.”

“What cracks?”

“Your attire, for a start. A fine lady should always be dressed for guests. Your posture is still abysmal, and I suspect you haven’t been working on your social skills either. You may be a Wilmington now, but your new name will not shield you from criticism. If you do not comport yourself as a proper duchess, the consequences could be severe, indeed.” She looked up at their mother. “Could you not leave Bath for a while and come and stay with Anna?”

“Certainly not,” Anna protested, raising her voice. “I mean no offense, Mother, but I do not feel nearly as unequipped as you’ve made me out to be. And what knowledge I am lacking I will surely gain with time. It has only been a week since the wedding. You did not become a model countess overnight, Rebecca. That much I know for certain.”

Rebecca flushed a satisfying shade of crimson.

Anna sighed, looking vainly at her mother for help. “Did you really travel days to come and lecture me? A letter would have sufficed.”

“I came to ensure your safety, chief of all,” Rebecca corrected. “When you visited this summer, you were hellbent on being shelved. That this has happened so suddenly…” A frown creased her forehead. “I feared you would receive my genuine concern with skepticism, given our past squabbles, and it seems I was right. But they are insignificant now. Set your bias against me aside for a moment. I have come here in peace, I swear it.”

Their mother stepped forward and placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder. She flinched in surprise. “Your sister is telling the truth, Anna. We only want what is best for you.”

Anna wanted to believe her sister, but it was a lot to ask. They had spent their lives being passive-aggressive toward one another. She had already been burned by one relative, why should she believe that Rebecca had a change of heart?

“If you truly want to make amends,” Anna said, “then you will start by trusting me. I am not the hapless girl you have always thought me to be… You’re right. Becoming a duchess was something I never envisioned, and the adjustment period has been brutal.”

Her husband’s serious face flashed through her mind.

“That’s not to say I’ve given up already. Philip’s sister, when she is here, is teaching me everything I need to know about my new responsibilities. We plan to renovate Cotoneaster completely over the summer and return to London next year, having made this title into something we can wear like a badge of honor. These things take time, but I will make you proud of me. I’ll show all of you what I’m capable of.”

Not least of all the husband who doesn’t dare speak to me.

Rebecca was quiet for a moment, her eyes trained on the floor. Her chest heaved with a breath, and she looked up with a resigned smile.

“Perhaps I was… a little harsh,” she conceded. “And perhaps I allowed my bias to get the better of me despite asking you not to be prejudiced.”

“Insomuch as you think I’m an incapable brat,” Anna clarified. “And I think you’re a domineering sycophant. If you really do want to start afresh, then I would very much like to bury the hatchet with you.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Rebecca gave Anna a genuine smile. It warmed Anna’s heart, healing a small part of her that had always felt dismissed by her sister, even if she had just called her a sycophant.

“Then let’s agree to let bygones be bygones,” Rebecca replied. She laughed at herself, wiping her brow. A small lapse in her otherwise perfect demeanor. “I have no idea what a good relationship between the two of us will look like, especially with the distance separating us. We could start by writing to each other, I suppose.”

“That sounds more than doable.”

“How gracious you are for not calling me an illiterate hog. We are making progress already.” Rebecca grinned at her own joke. “I fear marriage has changed you as much as motherhood has changed me. Charlotte is old enough now that she is becoming her own person. When I look at her… I see a great deal of you. It does not displease me.”

Anna could have asked for no higher praise, things being what they were. The room settled into a warm, happy silence.

“My two girls,” Rosamund whispered, bridging the space between them. Each received a gloved hand and squeezed it. “Such marvelous times we are living in.”

“I am inclined to agree,” came a voice from the doorway.

Anna didn’t turn immediately, too stunned to move. Her sister rose elegantly from her seat and bobbed a curtsey that rivaled their mother’s. They flashed a pair of brilliant smiles at the intruder.

Maybe Anna would benefit from some training under her unflappable sister. Her body was rigid and indomitable as Philip came to stand beside her. She looked at him in awe, studying the lines of his profile while he addressed her sister.

“You must be Lady Kite,” he said, leaving her to wonder when he had bothered to learn her sister’s title. “Lady Bristol, it is my pleasure to receive you.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Rosamund returned, looking proudly between the pair. “I have already expressed my apologies to my daughter for this most impromptu visit. I extend them to you twofold, Your Grace.”

“The fault is mine.” Rebecca stepped forward. “I have been eager to meet you, Your Grace, and it is my greatest regret that I am so strapped for time. My husband awaits me in York, you see. Would that we could acquaint ourselves properly.”

Philip nodded congenially. He looked down at Anna, obviously expecting her to say something—maybe organize an official visit.

Her awkwardness prevailed, and she mumbled a barely audible response.

Philip took the reins, making small talk with her family while she stood there—a hapless girl. His manners were unimpeachable, and to Rebecca and their mother, he must have seemed like the perfect husband, and theirs a perfect marriage.

If only they knew the truth, Anna thought miserably, settling beside Philip on a nearby sofa when he called for them to speak awhile. That he is so hot and cold, it makes me feverish. That we spend a great deal of time apart, and I am better acquainted with his shadow than his face.

“I cannot recall ever seeing Anna so vibrant and full of life,” Rebecca remarked as the tea came in, despite her earlier protests. “I found my own marriage had a similar effect on me. A woman comes into her own once she acquires a husband.”

Philip waited while Rosamund poured Anna’s tea. “Your sister has surprised me in many ways. Her patience and loyalty are greater than any man could dream. It heartens me to hear that our marriage suits her, in your eyes.”

Anna wanted to laugh. He knew all the right things to say while putting none of them into practice. Rage bubbled up inside her, and she couldn’t keep it at bay.

“But of course, a woman must not be completely defined by her marriage,” she interjected, reaching over for her steaming cup of tea. “I reject this idea that she becomes a person only through her husband.”

The scent of bergamot wafted into her face as she brought it up to her mouth, not daring to look in Philip’s direction, although he was looking at her.

“She should not depend on any one person for her happiness. The ficklest people sign contracts all the time. It doesn’t guarantee they will honor their vows.”

Rebecca sputtered into her tea, placing a hand over her mouth while she tried to choke quietly.

“Have you been reading your Wollstonecraft again?” Rosamund asked with a nervous laugh. She looked apologetically at Philip. “My daughter’s friends have always been of a more political persuasion. Sometimes to their own detriment. They brought a great number of modern books into the house.”

“A person’s character may not change upon signing a marriage contract,” Philip said, ignoring his mother-in-law and staring directly at Anna. “But any decent gentleman will honor his vows most seriously.”

Anna couldn’t help herself. “To love and to cherish, you mean?”

Her husband remained silent.

“Do tell us, then,” Rebecca spoke up once she had composed herself, dabbing elegantly at the tea trickling down her chin, “what you intend to do to complement your marriage.”

Anna could feel Philip tense beside her, sinking deeper into the sofa they shared.

Since their first night at Cotoneaster, they had barely shared a space. Anna watched him come and go, reminded every time their paths converged of what he had promised when he had asked her to marry him. They would lead separate lives together. No children, no companionship. He must have known how lonely she would become.

Did he really expect her to spend her whole life never being touched or loved?

She asked the question without asking it.

“I will do whatever I must do to satisfy myself. Create something for myself, take up a new pastime. Perhaps I will make connections of my own and entertain them.” Anna turned to gauge Philip’s reaction. “With my husband’s blessing, of course.”

His eyes darkened when she met them, seeming to say, So much for loyalty and patience.

“Maybe you could try reading a different book,” Rosamund suggested.

Rebecca tittered knowingly. “ Les Liasons Dangereuses ?”

* * *

“Off again?” Anna called sardonically.

She and Philip had just returned to the drawing room. Rosamund and Rebecca had left not moments ago in their carriage, and Anna settled into the seat they had vacated, reaching over to pour herself a glass of water.

“You lead such a terribly busy life, gone for so many hours that you miss meals and retire late into the night.” She kept her back turned. “It is a miracle that you could spare the half hour required to entertain my mother and sister. Thank you, Your Grace, for this most noble sacrifice.”

There was no gratitude in her tone, only a dark facetiousness that grated on Philip’s nerves. She had poked him at every opportunity while they had taken tea, abusing his good manners to take swings at him.

That sort of behavior was beneath her. He didn’t have to ask why she had debased herself. A woman could only be ignored for so long. If the bees weren’t attracted by honey, vinegar would suffice.

The floorboards creaked beneath Philip as he hesitated to leave. Judging from her resigned silence, she probably wished he would go, feeling ashamed now that she had let her emotions get the better of her.

“I am the Duke of Wells, and as much as I curse the title, there are matters beyond number that require my attention.” He sighed, wishing he had the power to leave. “Do you seriously believe I am conducting some wicked enterprise behind your back?”

Anna bit her tongue.

“Come now, Anna. You were so very eager to duel with me while your sister and mother were here. Are you afraid to speak your mind now that there is a chance I might fight back?”

“No. I have just realized that it would be an exercise in futility. You will only tell me what I already know,” she murmured into her cup, from what he could see, leaning indecorously on her elbows.

“And what is that?”

“That you exposed the terms of our betrothal before I agreed to marry you, and that asking anything different of you would be childish and selfish.”

“One could not be faulted for seeing it that way, no.”

She paused. “Be that as it may, your sister would like to spend time with you. You don’t need to punish her just to honor the terms of our agreement.”

A clever tactic, but not one Philip was inclined to fall for.

“We both know that is a lie. My sister tolerates my presence here but would prefer I were gone for your sake. While she has scarcely spoken to me, I know she is not pleased with the way our marriage has turned out. I won’t be blamed for Elinor’s hysterics, nor will I take the blame for yours.”

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, growing hot and uncomfortable with the conversation. This was precisely why he had tried to avoid her for so long.

Anna turned to look at him, and he felt suddenly exposed, closing the door to the drawing room so the servants would know not to interrupt.

He crossed the room and stopped before his wife, not sure what he intended to do—to shut her up with a kiss or an argument. She craned her neck to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushing red. Philip hesitated to maintain that position of power over her, and so he took a step back to put some distance between them.

Anna scoffed in disgust, slamming down her tea and climbing onto the sofa so they could stand face-to-face. He had never seen a woman act so improperly, and his eyes went wide.

“I hate that word. Hysterics. I have known from the first that you had your faults, but you have outdone yourself with that one.” She put her hands on her hips. “Nothing about our initial agreement implied you would ignore me completely. So I feel it is not asking too much—certainly not to the point of hysterics—for you to occasionally acknowledge my existence.”

Philip smiled darkly, his eyes roving over her determined little face. He paused on her lips. A dark feeling swelled in his chest, a desire for her mixed with injustice. His voice dropped low.

“I am all too aware of your existence,” he ground out. “There is not a corner of this house that is peaceful for your being in it. Even when I cannot hear you, I feel your presence nearby. Waiting for your next movement, dreading the moment you will come and seek me out. Cotoneaster is damn near inhospitable now.”

He realized only as the words rushed out of him what he was admitting to. Anna was too deep in her anger to read between the lines.

“Oh.” She let out a disbelieving laugh. “How terrible for you. I shall endeavor to move much more quietly in this prison you have consigned me to.”

He sighed. “You are testing my patience now?—”

“Well, you have tested mine!” she shouted back at him. “You’re only making things worse by avoiding me. You said we would lead separate lives, and I accepted that. But while we are here, in the same place, why must you keep your distance? A walk in the gardens with me surely wouldn’t kill you. You make me feel so… so…”

“Feelings do not factor. One of us must be reasonable. You have no idea what you are asking of me, Anna. When it comes time for us to part—and that time will come sooner than you think—you will not miss a man who never spent time with you, a body that never kept you warm. I do this for your benefit.”

He expected her to argue back. Instead, she stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“Why sooner than I think?”

“What?”

“Have you already made plans to leave?” Her eyes blazed with fury. “Elinor’s dinner party is in a week. Are you going to abandon us before then?”

The betrayal in her voice would have broken his heart if he had one. Wellington’s offer had been hanging over him like a storm cloud all week. Philip knew he had to tell Anna about it sooner or later. But not now. Not when she was so cross with him and wouldn’t understand why he had to leave.

He stepped back, trying to gather his thoughts, but this only made her reach for him. She lost her balance on the cushions beneath her, and with a cry, came tumbling toward him.

Philip realized too late, bumping into the coffee table behind him. Anna crashed awkwardly into his arms, and he staggered backward under her weight. The force knocked them to the floor, cold tea from their earlier supper spilling all over the carpet.

In the space between the sofa and the table, pain seared through his hip as he shifted onto his side. A jolt ran up the length of his body, knocking the breath out of his lungs with a strangled gasp—as if he had fallen from his horse all over again and could only wait for death.

“Philip,” he heard through the fog of his pain. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened. Are you alright? I’ll fetch someone.”

Her hands were all over him—or at least that was how it felt in the dark behind his eyelids—grabbing his shoulders, his waist, his neck to check that he was fine.

“Stop,” he ordered faintly, groaning as he opened his eyes and tried to lean up on his elbow. “Don’t touch me.”

He didn’t want his staff to see him like this. It was bad enough that Anna was witnessing him in this state.

She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he realized with alarm how they were positioned, her straddling him while he was pinned beneath her, at the mercy of her searching hands. He grabbed one with all that was left of his senses, his fingers looping around her wrist.

“I said stop,” he repeated more forcefully. He groaned and looked behind him. His vest was soaked through with tea, and the carpet fared no better. “I can’t… Get off me. I need a moment before I can move.”

Anna nodded, climbing off him. She kneeled beside him, and while she reached up to grab a napkin and start mopping up their mess, Philip knocked his head against the floor in defeat. A chandelier hung overhead, mocking him as it twinkled in the dying light of the day.

These were the consequences of his actions, keeping her at arm’s length.

“I received a summons,” he confessed, and he felt her freeze. “The Duke of Wellington has a new post for me. I must travel to London soon and give him my answer.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her, but he could hear the confusion in her voice. “Is the post in London, too?”

“No. It’s in France.”

He watched for her reaction. She was motionless on the floor beside him, a stained white napkin balled up in her hand.

Even at her worst, when she was disheveled and seething, he still thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and was mortified by his infirmity—and by his deception.

“Anna…” Pushing past the pain, he forced himself to sit. “Don’t make that face. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“What does that matter? We both know what your answer will be.” Her hand opened to reveal the stained cloth, and she threw it on the floor. “You’re a colonel first and foremost. And if that wasn’t enough, you said yourself you wanted to leave.”

Something in her tortured expression gave him pause. These weren’t the actions of a jealous woman. She genuinely cared for him. And even though he didn’t deserve it—only wanted to protect her, not be loved by her—he was causing her more pain by pushing her away. There had to be some sort of compromise.

Honey, not vinegar.

“I do not want to leave. But my duty has bound me.” Every fiber of his being protested those words. “Still, perhaps I have been overly cautious with you.”

“Avoiding me like the plague.”

He sighed. “Know when you have won and do not gloat.”

“Forgive me…” she murmured. Her expression lightened, and Philip hated the way it made him feel lighter too. “You won’t immediately say yes, then? You’ll give it some thought? And maybe take a walk with me in the meantime?”

“Now?” He laughed. “I doubt I can stand, let alone walk. But yes, before making my decision, I will speak with Wellington first. And then I will speak with you. I will not leave without your understanding and permission.” He looked down at himself. “If you would…”

Anna nodded, closing her arms around him gingerly and helping him to his feet. Philip leaned on her for support, his leg numb from the impact of the fall. His body tingled with more than nerves as Anna held onto him, settling into something resembling a hug he was powerless to resist.

He placed a hand on her head, using the other to steady himself against the sofa. It was the closest thing to the intimacy they had experienced, and the prospect of leaving her for France became more daunting by the second.

She looked up at him, her eyes round, seeking his approval.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, his throat dry.

“If I think it’s what is right for you, then I will let you go.” Her voice vibrated against his chest. “No more games, and no more fighting.”

She held him tighter, and for that moment at least, he let her.