Page 57 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
“Largely, yes.”
“I suspect your affections for a certain young lady have not gone unnoticed,” Anthony said.
“I do not see what that has to do with anything,” Mr. Russell replied, “unless you mean to imply that Lady Anna has requested my presence at these events.”
“I suspect that because you have shown an interest in Lady Anna, many of the ton are curious about you. It is seldom that a man who is not one of the ton gains the affections of a lady, particularly one as well-born as the Duke of Norfolk’s daughter.”
“Well, I—I am quite fortunate in that regard. I can scarcely believe that Lady Anna does not have a veritable army of suitors vying for her attention,” Mr. Russell said. “She is such an extraordinary young woman and such a talented artist!”
“Are you also an artist?” Anthony asked.
“I enjoy art,” he replied, “and I am an avid collector. However, I have never been particularly interested in creating art of my own. I do not have the patience required to become very good.”
“I understand.”
“And you, Your Grace?” Mr. Russell asked.
“I used to paint,” Anthony replied. “I was never particularly talented, but I found the act of creation to be soothing. It helped that I had… there was a friend who enjoyed painting, and I loved it because she did.”
If Mr. Russell noticed that Anthony’s voice caught a little, he had the grace not to mention it. “Of course,” he said. “I find that most activities are more enjoyable if you have a companion who also derives pleasure from them.”
Anthony nodded. He sipped his brandy, thinking. He realized now that he had not the faintest idea what to say to the man.
“What did you and my predecessor discuss when you came to Hamilton House?”
“Business,” Mr. Russell said, smiling wryly.
“Of course.”
Mr. Russell sighed. “I suspect that you did not ask me here to discuss that, however, or you would have more papers spread across your desk.”
“That is very astute of you,” Anthony replied. “You are right. I did not wish to speak about business. I must confess that I am having some difficulty in understanding my own feelings toward a certain young lady.”
“Lady Bridget, I assume.”
“Indeed.”
“Anna has told me that Lady Bridget speaks often of you,” Mr. Russell said.
“What does she say?” Anthony asked.
“Only complimentary things, I assure you,” Mr. Russell said. “Lady Bridget speaks of your gentlemanly behavior and how much she enjoys your company. She has expressed a desire for you to come to call.”
Anthony winced. A gentleman who was courting a woman would have called on her already. He had thought of calling on her many times, but he had yet to actually do it. Visiting Bridget in her own home felt too intimate, somehow. It made him fear that he might be unable to resist her any longer, and he needed to resist her.
For Anastasia’s sake as well as for Bridget’s own. He must remember that she had trusted him to feign interest inher, and he could not let himself be too revealing with his own burgeoning affection for fear that he might betray her trust.
“I should do that,” Anthony conceded.
Maybe he was thinking more about the dangers of such a visit than he ought to, for any visit would surely be chaperoned. He would be unlikely to have the opportunity to do anything more than smile at the young lady.
“I ought to call on Anna,” Mr. Russell said. “I have not yet done so.”
“Is there any particular reason for that?” Anthony asked.
“My own hesitation to interact with her mother and father,” Mr. Russell said. “There is something about how the Duke of Norfolk looks at me that makes me suspect he finds me… unworthy of his daughter.”
Anthony blinked, taken aback. “Has His Grace ever expressed that?”
