Page 22 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

“Then you may enjoy your Season without any constraints,” he replied smoothly.

“Or expectations?” she asked.

By now, they had arrived at the table and the Duchess of Everton indicated where they should sit. The table included the duke and duchess and her sister, Lady Alford, and her husband. The conversation proved lively and Anthony finally was reminded that his companion was named Laurel. She certainly didn’t hold back her opinions and seemed quite well-informed about many topics, especially for an illegitimate shop girl.

Eventually, the topic turned to the recent war and he was asked to give a brief summary of his activities, which meant recounting what Wellington had done and where, since he’d been on the commander’s staff.

Lady Laurel turned to him as the others moved on to new topics.

“Do you feel the war was a waste?”

Her question startled him. “Not at all. Someone had to stop Bonaparte. It was left to England to see him defeated once and for all, especially after he escaped captivity.”

“I agree that Europe didn’t need to be under a dictator’s dark cloud but isn’t war itself asinine? The tremendous cost, not only financially but in terms of human life.”

He actually agreed with her but refrained from speaking his mind. It wouldn’t do for that opinion to get out. A duke and former aide to the greatest military hero in English history severely criticizing the very act of war wouldn’t sit well with any patriotic citizen.

“Take America, for instance,” Lady Laurel continued. “Why did we have to fight there not once—but twice?”

“The first time was to end a rebellion,” he said, his position that of any Englishman loyal to his king and country.

“But didn’t they, as citizens, have rights?” she pressed. “They were being made to observe all kinds of laws, including those of taxation, without any type of representation in Parliament.”

“The colonies were a part of the British Empire,” he said stiffly. “We offered them our protection.”

“Without any say whatsoever in government,” she challenged. “And then when we couldn’t defeat them, we abandoned their shores, only to intervene again.”

“The Americans almost cost us our own freedom,” he said. “England was trying to defend not only herself but Europe against Bonaparte. Having to deal with our bastard cousins only drew troops and monies away.”

“They already had fought—and won—their political independence but England still repressed them economically,” she said. “The Americans were fighting for their very livelihood, Your Grace. Fortunately, enough of the fat, rich, old men who run the War Office decided they would be better suited as allies and economic partners with us and ended that foolish conflict.”

Her opinions enraged him. Yet for the first time, he’d heard an argument different from any he’d ever been exposed to previously.

Ready to end this discussion, Anthony firmly said, “We will have to agree to disagree on matters of war, Lady Laurel.”

This woman was dangerous. Not only was she quite beautiful, but she was as sharp as any man of his acquaintance. He didn’t need a woman who would constantly challenge him. He sought a pliant, unassuming wife he could order about. This fiery, passionate St. Clair would never go quietly into any marriage, much less remain a silent partner within the union. Though Anthony felt a strong attraction to her, he would tamp it down. Lady Laurel St. Clair was not the woman for him.

Supper ended and he escorted her to the ballroom once again.

“Thank you for our dance and an interesting supper,” he said before bowing and retreating to the card room once more.

When the ball ended, he found his aunt and half-sister and led them to their waiting carriage. Heavy traffic prevented them from moving for quite a while. Hannah filled the time, prattling on about the evening and her many dance partners. Finally, the vehicle began to move and Anthony relaxed.

Until the conversation turned to Lady Laurel.

“Thank you, Anthony, for dancing with my friend. Lady Laurel is very interesting, isn’t she?”

“I quite like her,” Aunt Constance remarked. “She isn’t the typical boring young miss that I remember from my come-out Season.”

“You had a come-out?” Hannah asked, surprise evident in her voice.

Anthony hadn’t known this, either, and listened with interest.

“Of course, I did. I was the daughter of a duke,” his aunt said haughtily. “As such, I was courted by many young men, some of the most handsome and eligible bachelors of the day.”

“Why didn’t you wed then?” Hannah asked, perplexed.

He felt the atmosphere in the carriage change, as if a blanket of sadness descended.

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