Page 16 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
“I do not wish to contradict you,” James said.
Anthony shook his head. “You may speak freely. If I do not allow that, I know you will be terribly cross with me.”
“You are correct. Wise as always, Your Grace.”
Anthony snorted. “Sure.”
“I wanted to say that it is fine—reasonable even—if you find yourself longing for female companionship after being deprived of it for so long,” James said delicately. “There is nothing shameful in desiring other women, even after the tragedy that befell Lady Anastasia.”
Anthony’s muscles tensed, and he worked his jaw for a few moments before managing a strangled reply. “I know that.”
“Of course you do. However, knowing something and being able to believe it are two entirely different things, Your Grace.”
“You are right,” Anthony mused. “I hate that you are right.”
“Apologies, Your Grace.”
“Your apology is not needed,” Anthony said, sipping his tea. “If anything, I should be thanking you for your candor. I never imagined that there would be any lady after Anastasia. I loved her so much, and when she died, I felt like the entire world ought to stop and mourn her. It seemed like an unfathomable injustice that people just kept living their lives.”
“She would have wanted that,” James said.
“Yes, she would have. She would have wanted me to live my life, too.”
James nodded.
Anthony placed his teacup on his saucer and took another biscuit in hand. He chewed it thoughtfully. “She was more selfless than any lady I have ever met. Anastasia got this look on her face when she talked about her causes. Her eyes would brighten, and her voice would take this certain pitch. I would find myself utterly enchanted by her and unable to look away for even an instant.”
James smiled.
“I always thought that she would change the world,” Anthony said. “She had such fire in her and such a sharp intellect. This young lady whom I have been thinking of… she is not like Anastasia, but there is still something compelling about her.”
“That sounds nice,” James said.
Anthony finished his tea. “It is difficult to explain precisely why I like her. We have only spoken on two occasions, and yet I feel as if there is some undeniable pull between the two of us. I want to be near her always, and I can sense that she feels the same.”
“Are you thinking about pursuing her?”
“I am unsure. I think I may wish to, but I also feel as though pursuing this young lady might be a betrayal of Anastasia’s memory.”
“She would want you to be happy,” James told him again, softly.
Anthony ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, and Anthony felt a lull pulling at him. His eyelids were heavy, which he suspected stemmed from his drinking the tea. James hadprobably brought the tea knowing it would manage to coax Anthony to restfulness at last.
“Thank you for your advice,” Anthony said, “and for the tea and biscuits. I think I will retire now.”
James climbed to his feet and bowed. “Good night, Your Grace.”
“It is past time for you to retire, also,” Anthony replied. “I would not have been upset if you had stayed in bed.”
“I would not be a good valet if I slept while Your Grace was distressed.”
“I would not call myself distressed,” Anthony said. “Nevertheless, I thank you for your loyalty.”
Sometimes, Anthony wondered if he was were really deserving of it. He tried his best to be an effective duke and a gracious employer, but there were moments—mostly when he thought of Lady Rose—when he wondered if he was really as kind-hearted and charitable as he thought.
James gathered the teacup and saucer, placing both onto the silver tray. “I shall tend to these first, Your Grace.”
