Page 8 of The Dark Duke’s Cinderella (The Untamed Ladies #1)

CHAPTER 8

A licia’s invitation arrived without delay the following morning. Philip looked down at the handwritten letter on his desk, her looping script not-so-cordially inviting him to a large flat in Richmond owned by one Lady Gwash.

He had heard the name a few times. Her husband was a known aesthete and art collector who had made a fortune rescuing artwork seized by Napoleon during the war. His wife had a fascination for the opera. She had taken a particular liking to Alicia, collecting singer friends the way other people collected instruments—to be played for fun.

Gwash’s involvement didn’t sway Philip to attend Alicia’s party, either way. His attendance would be seen as a sign of his interest in Alicia. And on that point, after their meeting, he was certain that there was none.

Which makes the effect her voice had on me all the more curious , he mused, leaning back in his leather chair.

For nights, he had awoken in sheets damp with sweat, her voice ringing out in his empty bedchamber. His mind was playing tricks on him, tormenting him. Nothing about the beauty of that voice could have constituted a nightmare, but his body responded with terror all the same.

Despite himself, Philip found his mind drifting to her cousin, and he instinctively smiled. He wondered whether perceptive, sensitive Anna could shed light on his reaction, what she would think of his predicament… until a knock sounded at the door.

Philip shoved the invitation into his open desk drawer—and the thoughts of George’s cousin went with them. He expected to see his estate manager, Mr. Hill, having come for their weekly meeting. Instead, Elinor’s mournful figure darkened his doorway.

“Knock, knock,” she intoned with a cautious smile.

Hands folded in front of her, she walked into his study and looked around. The study had belonged to their father, and Philip hadn’t yet commissioned a renovation of the room. His father had been fascinated with Titian’s art. A large piece hung over the fireplace before him, a religious scene the late duke had acquired during his Grand Tour. There were godly eyes all over the manor.

“It’s awfully dreary in here,” Elinor noted, playing with the heavy velvet drapes by one of the windows. “Father had many flaws, but his taste in decor might have been his greatest crime. Graham was always complaining about Charleton. He often joked that he prayed for your safe return just so we didn’t have to inherit the place.”

“I doubt it was as much of a joke as you think,” Philip said, pursing his lips in thought.

With each day that passed, Elinor seemed more comfortable speaking about Graham. He took that as a good sign.

“Not that I blame him. If I could work elsewhere, I would. There hasn’t been time to set up one of the other studies.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me?” Elinor tutted, sinking into one of the vulgar rococo chairs in front of his desk. “I have nothing but time. A little renovation would occupy me wonderfully. And it will be good practice for when…” She sobered up and stared down at her hands. “I will have to go to Delphi soon and put things in order there.”

Delphi Place had been Graham’s family seat. His parents had died when he was young, and as an only child, he had left no known heir. As far as Philip knew, they were still looking for his closest heir. In the meantime, the running of the estate had fallen to Elinor. She had been so overcome with grief that she couldn’t bear being there alone. She had moved into Charleton even before Philip had come back from the war, and with the way things were going, it looked like she planned to stay there with him.

“You needn’t go alone,” Philip murmured, sitting opposite her. He arranged his things, then picked up his quill to resume the letter he had been working on before the mail delivery that day. “In fact, I’d welcome a change of scenery. The Horse Guards have little need of me at present, and I loathe being unoccupied like this. London is… as taxing a place as I remember it.”

“You mean there is a woman.” Elinor scoffed when Philip remained silent. “If you don’t want me to know about these sorts of things, then you shouldn’t say anything at all, thinking you’re being coy. I can guess your every thought just by looking at you. It’s a gift of mine. That little frustrated frown of yours tells me everything I need to know. Go on, then. Which poor debutante has thrown herself at your feet this time?”

“Evidently, you don’t know everything. She is far from a debutante.”

“A widow, then?” Her smile colored her voice. “How very exciting, brother. She and I will have so much to discuss.”

“Not a widow either.”

These were dangerous waters. Usually, Philip would have ended the conversation there. Elinor had a way of getting him to talk. Especially now, when she needed to talk. It felt cruel to ignore her.

“I suppose you recall Alicia Walford?”

“The singer?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she leaned forward. “How could I forget? She was one of the only women Father bullied you into courting, and the courtship itself was about as passionate as a wet stocking. Do you mean to rekindle your relationship? Or has she thrown her hat in the ring for you ?”

“Neither. Or perhaps the latter.” He sighed, abandoning his correspondence. “I don’t know. I know only that she has invited me to a soirée tonight that I have no interest in attending. But avoiding her will incur the wrath of her cousin.”

“Darling George, of course…” Elinor tapped her chin in thought, looking more animated than Philip had seen her since his return. “Ah, he is hoping for a match between you. He was always a soft-hearted fellow, so that doesn’t surprise me in the least. He must think he is doing you a favor.”

“He has said as much, yes.”

“Which leaves you in a terrible predicament. Because the reality is that you are eligible and should be looking for a wife.” She paused, and Philip dreaded what was coming. “Is she really as insufferable as all that? I remember her being quite beautiful, a diamond of the first water.”

“Why must everyone emphasize her beauty as though that alone would persuade me to marry her? That’s the least important thing about her; the most important thing is that she is completely unsuited to me in too many ways to count, as past experiences have proven.” He raised his hands in exasperation. “Your train of thought surprises me—you, who has always put yourself forward as a champion of women and their intelligence.”

Elinor looked affronted. “I am a champion of women. And I have never said that a woman’s beauty is her most important asset. I fail to see how she could not suit you, Phil. You have not exactly… Well, what little you have dared to share of your past conquests has suggested to me that you do not value brains over good looks.”

Philip groaned quietly. “You are confusing me with our father.”

“Oh no. Trust that I keep you quite separate in my estimations and my heart.” She shook her head. “I know what Father was. I saw how it tormented Mother. Philanderer, and worse… I would not dream of saying you were like him. I meant only?—”

“Look,” Philip interjected, not liking where this was going. He couldn’t change what his father had done, the dark stain he had left on their family’s name with his many affairs, and worse. “I am not considering Alicia for a wife, so do not consider it either. Tell me only how you would handle the situation—what you would do.”

“What? What would I do if I were an absurdly affluent duke—a colonel to boot—with the eyes of society’s women on me, as they await with bated breath for the day I reach down through the clouds, into their ranks, and pluck one of them up for marriage?” She puffed out her cheeks, leaving Philip shaking his head at her theatrics. “The possibilities are endless…”

“So, you do not want to help.”

She reached over and pinched his hand playfully. “The war has made you surly, and I’m not quite sure I like it. What do you expect me to say? I couldn’t imagine being in that position, and even if I could, you and I want very different things. I resigned myself long ago to the fact that I will not have a sister-in-law whom you truly love, much as I might have teased you about it in the past.”

Philip raised an eyebrow. She knew more about him than she had let on. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard for Elinor to accept his eternal bachelorhood.

“The truth as I see it, is that you have no notion of love, do you? Like so many other men.” Elinor sighed. “Do not take that as an accusation. If this is how you truly are, then you shouldn’t change just to please me. Whether Father loved Mother or not was irrelevant in the end, because he did not respect her.”

Philip leaned back in his seat, watching his sister carefully. She still believed he was looking to marry. The thought made him feel guilty for lying to her. But Elinor would not easily accept his reasons for not wanting to marry. She may have seen their father for the monster he was, but she had no concept of what that had bred in Philip. A dark, poisonous charge. Forwarding the legacy of a man who was better off dead and forgotten.

“In your shoes, that is what I would seek. I would consider Alicia Walford seriously—because why not? I would try to determine whether her level of intelligence matches my own, and whether our senses of humor match, so we do not bore each other.

“And beauty, while it should not factor, would have to be taken into account somewhat. Any wife you select would have to bear your children,” she said plainly, making his skin crawl at her candor, “and if not an effort of love, the act of making them should at least not be unpleasant for either of you.”

Philip was grateful when she stopped there, leaving him with her list of requirements. She had given good advice, but it was still just empty talk. He licked his lips in discomfort, knowing that he should put her out of her misery then and there so that she stopped hoping for a sister-in-law who would come in and save them both from their lonely misery.

“Elinor, you misunderstand.” His tone was grave, and he could feel the energy shift between them. “I was not asking you how to choose a wife, for I do not?—”

Suddenly, another knock sounded at the door. Philip shot out of his seat at the sight of their butler, Mr. St. Maur, leaving Elinor waiting for the second half of his confession.

“What?” he growled.

“There are callers for you, Your Grace,” St. Maur replied, startled by his tone. “Shall I… inform them that you are not available at present?”

Philip looked down at his sister. She was leaving it up to him.

“Who has come?” he asked.

St. Maur paused for a moment, his dark mustache twitching as he recalled the names.

Names Philip knew all too well.

“A Lord Walford and his cousin, for you.”

Philip felt his spirit leave his body. Just as he had been trying to convince his sister he was not interested in Alicia, she had come to visit.

He saw Elinor perk up out of the corner of his eye.

“I would not be against hosting them. We get so few visitors, after all,” she said, rising from her seat. “We could take tea with them until Mr. Hill arrives for your meeting. Come, let us not keep our guests waiting.” She sidled up to him and lowered her voice. “Seeing the woman in the flesh will help me determine her suitability.”

She was out of the door before Philip could stop her.

* * *

Anna looked around the entrance hall of Charleton Manor, starry-eyed. Great marble columns rose to the ceiling that arced overhead, displaying a fresco of angels that needed a touch-up. She had lived in the lap of luxury her entire life, but she had never seen a house quite like this.

“Dukes really are a different species, aren’t they?” she murmured, looking toward George. He was admiring a piece of artwork by the stairs, having wandered away from her while they waited for the butler to return. “This makes our house on Grosvenor Square look like a shack by comparison.”

“Wells is an extremely old title,” George replied, squinting at the signature on the painting. “God’s wounds, a Raphael…” He drew in a quick breath, stepping back. “There is royalty in their line somewhere—descendants of Henry II or some such thing.”

“Hmm.”

Anna supposed that made sense. She didn’t know much about the Walford history, but she was almost certain none of them were connected to royalty. Though her father certainly acted like they were.

“If that’s true, it’s hard to believe that you have become such good friends with His Grace. He must think we are beggars, indeed.”

“You spoke with Phil. You know that’s not how he views things.” George’s disapproval showed on his face. He wouldn’t hear a bad word said against the duke —even if Anna had only been joking. “He’s surprisingly democratic for a man who could purchase a small country if the fancy took him. And lucky for you, too. In all his generosity, he might turn a blind eye to your theft.”

Anna gasped, swatting his shoulder when he laughed. “It was not theft and you know it.” She turned the snuffbox over in her hand. “I am but a humble servant of the realm returning something to its rightful owner.”

“Oh, please, George ,” her cousin mocked, imitating her from earlier that day when he had called on her. “Please don’t turn me in to the duke. Take the snuffbox yourself. Get Alicia to do it.” He shook his head, jumping away from another assault. “Do those sound like the supplications of an innocent woman?”

Anna huffed. “I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

Partly because I am guilty.

Not of theft, naturally. She really had come across the snuffbox by accident. But she had only been able to recognize it as Philip’s because of the moment they had shared at The King’s Theatre.

She was guilty of lying to her parents and George. Guilty, too, of having developed a strange fixation on the duke, despite promising her friends to never think twice about a man. Her curiosity seemed only logical in her mind. She still needed to determine whether he was trustworthy.

Meeting the Duke of Wells should have been a footnote in the evening at the opera. For the last week, Anna had sat with the memories of being on stage, confident that no one in the audience had noticed that she had sung and not Alicia. It had been the best moment of her life, except for being intercepted by the duke. Despite agreeing to keep things a secret, she had been sick with worry after.

Before George could continue tormenting her, a cacophony of voices carried in the air toward them. The cousins turned in tandem as the duke and another woman emerged from a corridor with the butler. The woman must have been related to Philip. She had the same dark hair and blue eyes. Her skin was much paler than his, a stark contrast to the dark mourning clothes she wore.

The duke gave Anna a shocked look, and she froze. He couldn’t have been pleased to see her.

“Your Grace, Lady Kirkby,” George greeted formally—so unlike him. “I hope we are not disturbing you.”

“On the contrary, George,” the woman said, pushing past the duke. She stopped in front of George and took his hand gently. “I am delighted to see you after these long months. And I insist you drop the formalities at once. You will call me Elinor as you always have. Unless the new baron insists on honorifics.”

Anna saw George’s ears turn red. She stood in his shadow, casting a sideways glance at the duke. He was watching her with interest, making her skin tingle uncomfortably beneath her patterned muslin dress.

“And this must be your cousin,” Lady Kirkby added, gesturing toward Anna.

Anna dropped into a curtsey in response, then cringed when Lady Kirkby laughed.

“The same goes for you too, my dear. If George is forbidden from standing on ceremony, then so are you.” She smiled, and the expression was infectious.

Despite her dark attire, the woman had a warmth about her that was impossible to resist. “I cannot tell you how long it has been since we have had a lovely young lady cross the threshold of this house. Truly, my brother did not overestimate your beauty. You light up the space around you.”

“My beauty?” Anna echoed, looking hurriedly between Lady Kirkby and the duke.

Had he called her beautiful? The compliment surprised her.

She couldn’t stop the heat from rising to her face. “I… I am afraid I am at a disadvantage.”

“Forgive me,” Lady Kirkby said with a laugh, taking her by the arm and turning toward the duke. “It is improper to discuss such things, I know. But my brother and I were just talking about you—talking quite seriously at that.”

“You were?” George asked.

Things were growing more confusing by the second. George shot her a bewildered yet hopeful look. Anna noticed the duke tensing up. Something was wrong.

Finally, the duke stepped forward. The sight of him took Anna’s breath away as he entered a patch of sunlight.

“Elinor, please—” he tried to interject.

But his sister cut him off. “No, I won’t be silenced on this. You know how society’s rules tire me. It is always better to speak honestly. It behooves me to let our esteemed guest know the effect she has on those around her.” She smiled then, patting Anna’s gloved hand.

Anna clenched her fingers around the snuffbox, hiding it from her.

“I only wish I, too, had heard you sing the other evening. From what I read in the papers, it seems you were a triumph.”

Suddenly, Anna’s heart sank to her feet. She started, her eyes going wide.

Does the duke know that I performed instead of Alicia? How did he come to that conclusion? He couldn’t have. Not on his own. Which means…

“Oh.”

The little noise left her with all the breath in her lungs as she realized what had happened. She wasn’t sure what made her feel worse, her sudden jealousy over Philip’s high praise of Alicia or her embarrassment for thinking he had been talking about her.

“I see what has occurred. I… I am not who you believe me to be, my lady.”

Elinor narrowed her eyes, confused. Meanwhile, her brother approached them, his chest heaving with a quiet sigh. Anna couldn’t look at him, even when he started to speak. She was stupid for thinking that he had said such lovely things about her.

This was exactly the kind of foolish behavior that had led her friends to found their league. A mistake she would not repeat.

“You have allowed your imagination to run away with you,” the duke said to his sister, more softly than Anna had anticipated, as if he was trying to spare her feelings. “This is Lady Anna Walford, the Earl of Bristol’s daughter, not…”

“Not my cousin, Miss Alicia Walford,” Anna finished for him, finally meeting his eyes defiantly, “whom I presume you and His Grace had been discussing before our arrival. It appears there has been a mix-up between us.”

Lady Kirkby could not have looked more horrified if she tried. Her pale cheeks flamed with color as her grip loosened on Anna’s hands.

“Oh, how odious of me. How could you have allowed me to ramble on for so long, Philip?” she hissed at her brother. She lifted her hand to the side of her face, then returned her pleading gaze to Anna. “I am so very sorry, Lady Anna. When the butler said that George’s cousin had arrived, I assumed… Ah, but you know what I assumed.”

“It is of no consequence.” It was, after all, a harmless mistake. Or would have been harmless, if Anna hadn’t allowed her imagination to get the better of her too. “I am only glad to know that His Grace holds my dear cousin in such high esteem,” she lied.

Before Lady Kirkby could say more, Anna opened her hand and revealed the duke’s snuffbox, keeping it steady despite the indignation coursing through her.

“I only came to return this.”

It took a moment for Philip to realize that she had addressed him. When he did, his gaze dropped to the palm of her hand.

“You have it?” he asked. “Heaven and earth, where did you find it?”

“In the library at Downy Fields, on the night of George’s dinner party. I assume you left it there by mistake. I kept it so I could return it to you.”

Philip crossed the entrance hall until he stood directly before her. His presence was overwhelming. When he plucked the snuffbox from her hand, the tips of his fingers grazed her gloved palm, making her knees go weak.

He grabbed the box tightly, his fingers flexing around the case. She noticed a small scar between his thumb and forefinger she had never seen before, then promptly turned her eyes elsewhere.

“You have done me a great service,” he murmured. “I believed I had lost it for good. Thank you, Lady Anna.”

A moment of silence passed. Anna felt George shifting uncomfortably. She communicated with a look that she wanted to leave.

For once, George was inclined to indulge her, as he nodded. “Perhaps we should?—”

“Walk with us,” Philip said, cutting him off. He had taken on the dark, serious air of a duke who would not be refused. “You have come all this way. I should express my thanks in a way befitting a lady of your good standing, Lady Anna, for recovering my belongings. Allow me at least to show you the grounds as a gentleman should when one enters his home.”

“And allow me to organize tea,” Lady Kirkby chimed in. She patted her brother on the shoulder. “I will call for something now. Unless…” She looked troubled. “Your appointment with Mr. Hill…?”

Anna didn’t know who Mr. Hill was, but the duke seemed to know. He pocketed his snuffbox, then offered her his arm, his mind made up. It was a forced gesture, something he felt he needed to do more than wanted to do. And in the same way, she forced herself to accept.