Page 21 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Anthony snorted. “Your wit is as sharp as always.”
The valet smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Are you all right, Your Grace? Forgive me for saying so, but you do look as though you are upset by something.”
Anthony slumped in his chair and gestured for James to sit across the desk. “It is Lady Rose. She has requested that I accompany her to an art exhibition tomorrow. I have not committed to the engagement yet, but I had rather hoped that I would be otherwise occupied tomorrow, thereby preventing me from attending.”
“Because you cannot bring yourself to simply refuse the lady without justification,” James guessed.
“Indeed. I am aware that is rather cowardly of me, but when I think of art, I think of her.”
“Have you considered telling Lady Rose that?” James asked quietly. “I am certain that the young lady would understand.”
“She would,” Anthony said. “Somehow, that makes it all the more difficult. I know that makes little sense.”
“Men are not always entirely rational in our thoughts,” James replied. “Even if your thoughts are irrational—although I am unsure that they are—that does not mean that you do not feel them.”
Anthony sighed. “I feel as though I must attend this exhibition with her, but I would rather not.”
“Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to attend, Your Grace,” James said. “You might find your passion for art once more.”
“I had a passion for art because Anastasia did,” Anthony said. “I do not know that I can have it without her.”
“But it is worth trying,” James said gently. “Lady Anastasia would want you to try.”
“She would, but that does not mean it is easy.”
“Matters of the heart seldom are, Your Grace.”
“Indeed,” Anthony mused, thinking of Lady Bridget. “Lady Rose has tried to convince me to help her friend avoid an engagement with a repugnant man.”
“Has she?”
Anthony nodded. His mouth felt dry, and he poured himself a glass of brandy. He enjoyed how the alcohol burned and cut through the thick feeling in his throat. It was steadying, a spot of normalcy in a world that seemed to grow increasingly chaotic by the day.
“I am unsure if I wish to aid her efforts,” Anthony said, “but I also understand her friend’s plight. It is the Marquess of Thornton who wishes to wed her.”
Anthony curled his fingers around his glass, noting how the light caught in the cut crystal. It reminded him of the pieces of broken glass from the spilled champagne and how drops of the wine had traced shining paths over the curves of Lady Bridget’s full breasts. He had the sudden image of himself tracing those paths with his tongue and watching Lady Bridget’s back arch, moans tearing from her full, coral lips.
“What does this plan involve?” James asked.
Anthony finished the rest of his drink, trying to drive away the image. It was disrespectful to think of Lady Bridget in that manner, particularly on the anniversary of Anastasia’s death. But no matter how hard Anthony tried, the young woman just would not leave his thoughts. It was maddening how present she was.
“Lady Rose believes that I should act as if I am courting Lady Bridget,” Anthony said.
He had expected James to react with the same disbelief that everyone else had when hearing of Lady Rose’s plan, but James’s lips only twitched in amusement.
“Are you certain that her aim is only to help her friend avoid a marriage with Lord Thornton?”
“What other aim could she have?” Anthony asked.
“I might assume that she hopes Lady Bridget will decide she desires you,” James said. “If you are pretending to court the young lady, that will mean spending much time in her presence.”
Anthony stared at the valet in disbelief. The man was right on one account. Pretending to be a devoted suitor would necessitate spending a significant amount of time with LadyBridget, and Anthony had already thought about the dangers of doing precisely that. It was absurd to think that Lady Rose had devised this ridiculous plan in some attempt to achieve that effect, though.
“Lady Rose barely knows me,” Anthony said. “I am certain that is not her aim. It is merely that she is young and has few friends. She seeks to safeguard the happiness of the one whom she does have.”
“So it seems.”
Anthony shook his head. He was right. He must be. It did not make any sense for Lady Rose to want him to genuinely fall in love with Lady Bridget.
