Page 35 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
“I am,” she said.
***
Later that afternoon, Anne returned home, bidding her companions farewell with a warm embrace to her dear friend and a polite curtsey to the duke. It wasn’t yet time for dinner, and it appeared that the rest of her family was resting in their respective chambers. She felt obliged, as she did not feel disposed to conversing with any of them at present.
She made her way up the stairs, wrestling with the heaviness of the day’s events. It had been largely pleasant, apart from the tension of the encounter with Sebastian and Lady Beatrice. But that single event had been enough to remind Anne that the entire ton was watching the duke and her. More specifically, they were looking for anything rumor-worthy or gossip inducing. It made her as frustrated as it did nervous, anddespite the lively conversation she’d had with the Duke, she felt drained and stressed.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy herself when she was with the duke. In fact, quite the opposite was true. Her time with Richard provided her first real connection with someone apart from Charlotte and Susan. She didn’t even feel as connected to her parents as she felt with the duke, as strange as that notion was. With him, she felt that she could be her true self. It seemed as though the duke appreciated who she was.
But what if she was wrong? What if he was simply tolerating her spirited attitude and lacking decorum for the sake of Susan, and for the ruse they were trying to pull? It was disappointing that the relationship they seemed to be forming was happening in the center of such a big deception. It was hard to know for sure if any of it was truly real, or if it was all part of an act. Anne didn’t want to think such a thing, not of a man who was as kind and protective as the duke. But what else could she possibly expect from such an arrangement?
As Anne entered her bedchamber, her footsteps echoed softly on the polished wooden floor. She closed the door softly behind her to not disturb anyone who might be resting. Then, with a sigh, she sank into her plush armchair, her fingers absently stroking the soft fabric of her gown.
A soft mew drew her attention over to her bed. There, she saw Mischief, who had apparently been napping and had just noticed her return. He rose up, practically standing on his toes as he arched his back in a big stretch. He then did the stretch that always made Anne giggle, taking a couple of steps forward, then dragged his back legs as he stretched once more. Finally, he hopped down off the bed, promptly making his way over to his mistress and jumping into her lap.
Stroking his soft fur, Anne allowed herself to immerse in her thoughts, finding solace in her cat's company. Mischief'spresence was the only true respite Anne ever got from the intricacies of society and the expectations and eyes that were on her at all times. When she sat petting the loving, sweet animal, none of the stresses of the world could get to her. The animal which had incidentally become her biggest source of love and comfort reminded her that no matter how chaotic and stressful life got, there were anchors to keep her steady.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Richard and Susan took Miss Huxley home from their stroll in the park, they had two hours before the dinner with the Westbrooks was to begin. Susan looked just as displeased as Richard felt as she sighed and sank back against the coach seat.
“I wish those two would suddenly become indisposed with a fit of megrim,” she muttered.
Richard chuckled, nodding.
“I agree, Sister,” he said. “Though I firmly believe that, even if they were at the brink of departing from this world, they would insist on presiding over this splendid dinner.”
Susan rolled her eyes. Then, her face broke out into a grin.
“Perhaps,” she said. “But before long, she and all the simpletons akin shall depart, relinquishing their presence and heed. Anne and you seem to be getting on just like a true courting couple. I dare say, there isn't a soul amongst the ton who remains unconvinced of your courtship.”
Richard smiled and nodded, but his heart raced wildly. He couldn’t explain it, but he had felt compelled to ask Miss Huxley to the opera the following day. Not out of obligation or duty. But something in him had expelled the words from his lips, even before they had fully formed in his mind. And as soon as he had, he had been thrilled endlessly when she had accepted his invitation. Something about her was refreshing and enticing, and every minute he spent with her felt like a blessing. Fake courtship or not, he knew he would have a wonderful time the following night.
His mother was expectedly bitter when they returned. She directed Susan upstairs to refresh herself, seizing Richard by the arm.
“You try my patience,” she hissed.
Richard blinked at her, taken aback. His mother had never been particularly affectionate. But one would think he had just skipped the dinner altogether, rather than returning home in just enough time to attend it. He pulled away from his mother, shaking his head.
“I told you that I would make it, and I have,” he said. “I beseech you to cease your efforts henceforth.”
With that, he stalked off to his chambers. He decided immediately that he would not change for the Westbrooks. Instead, he washed and re-combed his hair, reapplying some cologne. Then, he paced the floor for the next hour, until he had to go back downstairs to escort his mother and sister to the waiting carriage.
When they arrived at the home of Lady Victoria and Lady Eleanor, Richard alighted from the carriage onto the cobbled driveway of the Westbrook estate. The mansion and grounds were grand, that much was clear. But to Richard, it was exactly the same as every insipid, shallow ton member he had ever encountered.
His eyes followed the figures of the dowager and Susan as they proceeded into the mansion, their silhouettes shimmering in the soft glow of lanterns. Unsurprisingly, his mother’s attitude immediately changed as they knocked on the door, becoming a sickening sweet that Richard had come to associate with her fake efforts to make others think they were a perfect, loving family.
They were greeted at the entrance by Lord and Lady Westbrook, who exchanged warm pleasantries with his mother. Richard bowed and muttered the customary greetings and gratitude for the dinner invitation, even though he would havepreferred to thank them for not inviting him to anything, ever. None to his surprise, Lady Eleanor was standing behind her mother coyly, her poised demeanor barely masking her eagerness as she batted her eyelashes at Richard.
“I’m so glad you made it, Your Grace,” she said, her tone affecting a honey-like innocence.
Richard’s stomach churned as he bowed.
“Good evening, Lady Eleanor,” he said blandly.
Lady Victoria shot Richard a calculating look that did not escape his notice. He was aware that the woman had every intention of seeing her daughter married to him. His only reprieve was Susan’s coolness to Lady Eleanor and his knowledge that no such match would ever be made between him and the young lady before him.
When they reached the drawing room, servants stood along the walls, waiting to serve glasses of wine and champagne. Richard took some wine gratefully, handing a glass to his sister. They toasted silently, sharing a secret look of understanding about the futility of the current dinner party. But predictably, Lady Victoria had no intention of allowing Richard to go unnoticed for very long.
