Page 7 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)

CHAPTER 7

“W ell, don’t be sparing with the details, Anna. We want to know all about him.”

Anna kept her eyes shut as she lay back on her picnic blanket, enjoying the sun as it beat down on her.

The weather had taken a dramatic turn in the week since George’s birthday party. That day, Hyde Park was full to the brim with people walking and meeting to socialize. Anna had never liked the energy of too many people around her. She was grateful that Helena had chosen a quiet corner by the Serpentine for their meeting, the sound of rustling water calming her erratic thoughts, the dappled shade of a willow overhead playing on the skin of her ungloved hands.

“It was my impression that The League of Untamed Hearts didn’t care to discuss men, unless it was to criticize them and the power they wield. Was that not our primary tenet?” Anna argued back at Lucy, who sat beside Helena while they finished their cheese and pickle sandwiches. “Is the Duke of Wells exempt from our collective scorn?”

“Oh, you’re such a spoilsport,” Margaret interjected, throwing a sugar plum at Anna’s head. Anna laughed and collected the sweet treat from beside her, popping it in her mouth with a satisfied grin. “It’s not every day one of us gets to speak with a duke. It has nothing to do with him being a man and everything to do with his station.”

“And that scar…”

That was Sophia. She had seated herself on the roots of the large willow tree, sketching the lake with intense concentration.

“When we saw him at the opera, I knew it would only be a matter of time before we were all talking about him. He is a curio, worth the conversation. Did you know that they used to call his father the Duke of Darkness ? Because of his dark eyes, and the way he used to treat women. The new duke is hardly an angel either if what I’ve heard is true. Oh, I want to know what he said too.”

“You are traitors, the lot of you,” Helena said.

Anna cracked open an eye, and to her surprise, she found Helena smiling. She couldn’t have meant the accusation that seriously.

“What about Untamed Hearts leaves room for misinterpretation? The Duke of Wells, mysterious and handsome though he may be, is surely just like the rest—and we should treat him thusly.”

Anna wasn’t convinced. She was the one who had spoken to him. And by her estimation, he wasn’t anything like the other men she had been forced to socialize with throughout her Seasons. He had more honor in his little finger than most men did in their whole bodies. And Anna, despite herself, had spent the past week thinking about him—just like she had suspected she would.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position and looked around her, watching a gig leisure down the nearby road. She hadn’t intended to speak about the duke with them, but Margaret had been at George’s birthday party too, and she had told Sophia about Anna’s time with the duke, who had told Lucy, who had told Helena…

“He was…” Anna struggled to find a fitting descriptor. How could she possibly describe a man who terrified her as much as he intrigued her? “He was kind to me.”

“Do you think he was speaking to you just because you were George’s cousin?” Sophia asked, a hint of jealousy in her voice. Out of all of them, she was by far the prettiest and the most popular with the gentlemen of London. “Maybe your cousin asked him to spend the evening with you.”

“You misunderstand,” Anna corrected, shaking her head. She reached over and took another sweetmeat from the pile. “His Grace didn’t seek me out. We were seated beside each other at dinner. We scarcely spoke for the rest of the evening. In fact, I think he went home much earlier than everyone else.”

“But what time you did spend together seemed to go well,” Margaret pointed out, then blushed. “Not that I was watching… Oh, why play pretend? We were all watching. You were by far the most interesting pair at the table. More than once, I saw your father look over at the two of you laughing, seemingly impressed. I have never seen such a benevolent smile on his face before. I half-expected his face to crack down the middle with the effort.”

The girls laughed at that—except Anna. In truth, her father had seemed laxer with her the past week. Like Margaret, she had assumed it was because he had seen her speaking with the duke at the party.

But if he expects our dinner conversation to lead to a courtship, he is severely mistaken. It is as His Grace said—there is only common sense between us. Certainly not romance. Especially given our secret. We could not grow closer if we wanted to.

And she presumed that he did not want to get to know her any better anyway. He was almost ten years older than her, a colonel, and still handsome despite his scar. The Duke of Wells would have his pick of the finest ladies in London if he did want to marry—which presumably he did not—and if she were interested in the women who interested him—which of course she wasn’t. So, really, there was no use thinking about him again at all.

“Do you think he will attempt to reacquaint himself with Alicia?” Sophia asked all of a sudden.

And just like that, there was Anna, thinking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “My cousin has no interest in marrying. And they already had one failed courtship. Why on earth would they attempt another?”

“People can change with time,” Sophia continued, not looking up from her sketchpad. “And it was just something I heard…”

Like a ravenous pack of wolves, the girls sprang from their places on the picnic blanket and gathered around Sophia. She looked sideways at them, alarmed. Then, with a playful grin, she set down her art supplies and drew them closer.

“Mother had tea with some friends at a hotel the other day,” she began, a competent storyteller. “They were discussing the usual things when one of her friends spotted someone she recognized out of the corner of her eye. A singer who was just on her way out after what they all presumed was a rendezvous with a foreign-looking older gentleman. Mother’s friend, you see, is an avid theatre-goer. Her husband is a scholar from Bath, so they are always invited to the latest shows, and it was easy for her to tell?—”

“Merciful Heavens, Sophia! Will you just get on with it?” Helena pressed, having never been particularly patient.

Sophia shot her a scathing look, not liking to be interrupted. She was building up to something titanic—Anna could feel it, her anxiety rising with every new leg in Sophia’s tale.

“Well, you have all guessed by now that it was Alicia. Mother’s friend took her aside and spoke with her for a while before Alicia left. It’s unclear what she said to her. She is discreet in some ways but not in others. What she relayed to my mother is this: Alicia is looking to marry. She plans to leave her company in Italy and remain in England for the foreseeable future.”

A brisk wind swept up then, while each girl processed the information. Anna was dumbfounded, leaning away from Sophia in shock.

“But of course… Anna, you must have known,” Margaret said, obviously attempting to smooth things over. “Alicia tells you everything.”

“Evidently not,” Anna murmured, bringing her fingers to her mouth. She bit her thumbnail and dropped her gaze in defeat. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Perhaps she made the decision only recently,” Lucy suggested, more interested in the mystery than anything else. “It’s all so strange. I thought your cousin loved her life as a singer. What would make her change her mind? And who was the older gentleman? Something isn’t right about this.”

“It may have been the leader of her company,” Anna guessed, shaking her head slowly. “Your mother’s friend might have mistaken their meeting for a rendezvous. Alicia might have been informing him about her decision to quit somewhere he couldn’t scream at her.”

It was all speculation. She was grateful that Sophia had told her in the end, even though she would have liked to hear the story directly from Alicia. Her cousin was a private woman, for the most part, not sharing things unnecessarily.

Perhaps she wanted to keep her decision a secret from her family, from me, until she was confident that it was the right choice for her. I don’t believe that she would hide things from me on purpose. Especially not this. But that begs the question. Does this have anything to do with her strange behavior the other night?

Anna ruminated quietly while her friends changed topics, descending into another conversation. She could sense Margaret watching her, worried for her.

But what Margaret didn’t see was Anna reaching into her pocket and grabbing a small box. Her fingers curled around it, comforting her, like her own little worry stone.

Anna had kept it on her person for the past week, having recovered it from the dinner party. She had been having tea with Margaret in the library while the party was winding down. And there, on one of the reading tables, had been a glittering, tortoise-shell box.

She had recognized it immediately, scooping it up and hiding it before Margaret could see it.

The Duke of Wells’ snuffbox. A snuffbox she intended to return to him but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

If Alicia is looking for a husband, and the Duke of Wells is eligible, maybe she should be the one to hand it to him…

* * *

The punches came hard and fast as Philip navigated around his opponent. His evasion skills had never been his strongest suit. He might not have acquired his scars if they had been. He couldn’t rely on fast footwork, but at least he had the stamina to match his opponent in combat.

On the floor with him at present was an old friend from the war. A lieutenant who, like Philip, had left behind a life in the aristocracy to pursue a career in the army. His brawling techniques were tough and unyielding, and Philip struggled to avoid his heavy attacks as they came in quick succession.

His attention faltered as the lieutenant put more space between them, catching his breath. Sand tickled his nose as it was kicked up from beneath them. Sweat dripped down his bare chest, cascading over the gnarled ridges in his skin. He swept back his wet hair, preparing for the next onslaught, just as the boxing master shouted at him from the edge of the room.

“Get back in there, Wells,” he commanded, clapping his hands together to get Philip’s attention. He was a former military trainer, and the sound of his voice brought Philip right back to those evenings spent in the cantonment, sparring with his soldiers. “You’re all over the place! What’s eating away at you this afternoon?”

A great number of things were eating away at him. Though Philip wasn’t about to list them for the whole boxing club’s amusement. He had a reputation to maintain, and he already feared that they were treating him with kid gloves because of his injuries. He wanted to work hard, to hurt, to be pushed to his limit. He would not have come to the boxing club otherwise.

Thinking as much, he didn’t wait for the lieutenant to come to him. Not this time. Raising his mufflers, he darted forward, launching his own series of attacks on his opponent. The lieutenant blocked the first three blows with ease, until Philip exposed his bad side to him, making himself vulnerable, and planting a decisive blow where the lieutenant expected it least.

The man staggered backward, falling onto his haunches.

“That’s enough,” the boxing master ordered, calling an end to the round. “Get out of there and leave some for the rest of us, Your Grace.”

A little while later, the smell of castile soap clinging to his skin after his ablutions, Philip exited the boxing club into an alley behind Bond Street. He fixed the lapels of his jacket, surprised by the warmth of that February day, and proceeded into the street. He patted his pocket, expecting his snuffbox to be there.

Of course, it wasn’t. He hadn’t seen the blasted thing for a week and had no idea where he had left it. It was too soon to purchase a new one—that trinket held too many memories.

Bond Street hummed with frenetic activity. It seemed half of London had decided to window shop that morning, gathering in front of the print shop directly opposite him—which competed fiercely with the broadsheet hawkers nearby.

When it comes to the ton, little changes , he thought miserably to himself, walking toward his awaiting carriage. Every one of them, hungry for a scandal. If Lady Anna and I had not agreed to protect one another, we would likely be figuring in a shop window just like that.

As though he had summoned her with his thoughts, her face appeared in the crowd, moving toward him. At first, he thought that he had imagined her. But it really seemed to be her, in the flesh, wearing a white pelisse and matching bonnet. His heart clenched in surprise, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. Thunderstruck, he raised a hand to get her attention…

And realized that it wasn’t Anna he had seen. It was her cousin, Alicia.

The Seconda Donna walked down the pavement on the arm of her cousin, George. He spotted Philip before she did, beaming as Philip nodded at him.

There was nowhere to hide from Alicia. Since the opera, he hadn’t thought about her once. And he certainly had no plans to reunite with her like George and Simon had suggested. Even though her voice had moved him like no one’s ever had.

It seems, for now, that a reunion is inevitable.

“Boxing, were you?” George asked once they were clearly in view.

He shook Philip’s hand, then turned to Alicia.

Philip’s mind flashed to the week prior, when George had performed a similar introduction between him and Anna. That meeting hadn’t made him feel quite so nervous as now.

“Of course, there is no need to introduce you and Alicia.”

“You presume too much, George. His Grace might have gone to great lengths to forget about me,” Alicia joked, kissing him on the cheek like they did in the continent, and making him feel nothing but trepidation as her lips met his skin. “I am only teasing, of course. How lovely it is to see you again.”

Philip wished he could say the same. But with George’s eyes fixed intently on him, he felt like a schoolboy undergoing a test. One he could only fail at.

“You have the right of it,” he directed at George, looking over his shoulder toward the boxing club. To Alicia, he said, “And of course, I remember you, Miss Walford. Our paths have scarcely crossed in recent times, it’s true, but your cousin has kept me updated on your life—as is his way.”

Which was to say, Your cousin is a great gossip, and now seemingly an aspiring matchmaker.

Philip looked at George, trying to determine whether or not their meeting that day was an accident. It seemed unlikely that George had heard Philip would be at the club that afternoon and had laid a trap for him. Unlikely, but not impossible.

An awkward silence stretched on. Being in Alicia’s presence made Philip feel exactly like he used to when he was around her—uncomfortable, ill-fitting. Like he didn’t have anything to say and didn’t want to bother trying to come up with a topic anyway.

George cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should do something, the lot of us, so that she might update you herself. A little outing, for old times’ sake.” He thought for a moment then clicked his fingers. “We could attend a show together, now that the Season is underway. You read the Theatrical Inquisitor , Alicia. You must know something we could watch.”

“Certainly,” Alicia said, smiling politely. Despite the time she had spent on the continent, her expressions were decisively English. “But I was hoping to give the playhouses a wide berth for the next few months. I doubt I shall be well received by the impresarios and theatre managers of London for quite some time, even as an innocent spectator.”

“Has something occurred?” Philip asked, not missing the troubled look that passed between the cousins. His mind flashed to Anna and her disappearance the night of Tancredi . “Some reason you must keep your distance?”

Alicia paused for emphasis, sighing. Ever the performer. “Only the little thing of my quitting the show. All shows, that is.” She shrugged. “I am giving up my singing career.”

The news shot through Philip like a bullet. There were few immutable truths in the world. He had thought that Alicia being a singer, living for the limelight, was one of them.

“That is… unfortunate to hear.” For reasons he was not going to clarify when George was within earshot. “I had thought they could not tear you away from the stage for anything in the world.”

“Things change,” Alicia replied. “People change. My love for the opera is as strong as ever, make no mistake about it, and perhaps there will come a time when I return to that life. For now, I am looking for something new, closer to home. It has worn on me impossibly to be so far away from my family for all these long years, from old friends…”

There was a plaintive glint in her eyes that Philip endeavored to avoid.

“You of all people should understand, Your Grace. You have come back to England despite your successful career in the military. The war has ended, you will say, but I have heard that many officers remained on the continent after building new lives for themselves there, taking foreign wives, or having developed a taste for the culture in other ways.”

“Such officers had the freedom to remain,” Philip said, a hard edge to his voice.

She was trying to read him, to equate their circumstances. But quitting the stage was nothing like giving up a career in the military because the end of the war, blissful though it was, had forced him out.

“Such is not the case for me. I am duty-bound to my family, to Wells, and to England in many ways.”

“Then you do understand.” She cocked her head. A charming if ineffective gesture. “The sacrifices one must make for family feel sometimes insurmountable. And yet there is no point in dwelling on the past—or on a life that could never be. We should move onto new things, both of us. Take the ton by storm like we used to.”

She was skirting around the word together , but Philip heard it all the same. He decided that anything he said would be misconstrued as agreement. And so he said nothing.

“Well,” George interjected, breaking the silence, “there will be plenty of time for storms and such later. Perhaps we could call around, Phil, about that show?” When Philip merely nodded, he grabbed Alicia by the arm. “Come now, Alicia. His Grace likely yearns to return home.”

“Of course, cousin.”

But Alicia dug her heels in when George tried to pull her along, turning to Philip before he could leave.

“But there is something else. Not a show. I am hosting a small get-together in Richmond later this week, at the home of a good friend,” she continued, getting her words out quickly. “It will not be a large affair. George is going, as well as Lord Stockton, but otherwise singers will be the main guests. People from my company. It will be a chance for me to say goodbye to them properly. If you would like to come and mingle, you would be more than welcome. Might I send you the address?”

Philip couldn’t refuse her without insulting George right to his face. He didn’t owe Alicia anything, but he couldn’t risk ruining his friendship with her cousin.

“You can send me whatever you wish,” he said, not committing himself either way.

“Thank you.” She beamed with delight, holding on tightly to George. “I look forward to your reply. It was so lovely to see you, Your Grace. And I hope that our paths cross again before long.”