Page 16 of When her Duke Returns
Antony let out a quick and dry laugh. “Who can say?”
Mary put her hand over his gingerly. “I am terribly remorseful as to the way the week’s end unfolded. You must understand that I did not call the Duke to us. I would never willingly wish any shame or suffering upon you, and I can only hope I have shown you the truth of my heart for all the time you have known me.”
Antony looked up at her then. “I know it,” he said. “You are the best of us.”
Mary smiled unconvincingly. “I do not know whether you have been made aware of other rumors…”
“I have,” he said before she could divulge the full extent of things.
“They are mere fabrications, My Lord. There is not a string of truth to any of them.”
“Are you implying that you did not meet with the Duke behind my back?” he asked though the answer was clear in his tone.
“I did; that much I must admit to. Though, it was only to put an end to whatever plans he was looking to unfurl. I promise you, nothing happened between the two of us beyond our speaking with one another.”
“You have done away with him, then?”
“We have settled on friendship. He has renounced himself from his pursuit of me and has made for London.”
Antony chewed the inside of his cheeks and dropped his gaze. “And what of you? Have you renounced him?”
Mary felt a surge of shock at the brazenness of his question. “There was nothing to renounce,” she said, and it was not a lie. Therehadbeen nothing before their meeting. As for the feelings left in its wake, she could not determine with any certainty their existence or their magnitude.
Regardless, her answer brought a smile to the Earl’s face. He returned to his piano and started playing a dark tune she did not recognize. Speaking between short, stunted harmonies, he began again.
“A more rational man would have called things off between us, you realize. There is no sense in fettering myself to a woman as headstrong as yourself nor as scandalized.”
Mary nodded in agreement and prepared for the worst.
“But I fear I am not a rational man, and I have longed for you longer than I can say,” he said, and then the music stopped. “Should I hear of any more meetings with the Duke, or should you betray my trust again, Iwillruin you, Mary. Do not let my affections blind you to my pride. I am still a man.”
ChapterSeven
Mary had been staring at the rows of cloth in Miss Murray’s shop for almost two hours, and still, none stirred any interest in her. In fact, it seemed thatnothingheld the power to move her to emotion anymore—at least not to any emotion comparable to that of the excitement summoned at thought of the Duke’s forbidden kiss and the fear of Antony’s reprisal.
Every night since had been spent in cyclical torture as she found herself plagued by nightmares of retribution and dreams of true romance. A lust like never before had begun brewing within her, leaving in its wake a sea of dejection.
Mary watched in total indifference as the other members of their shopping party fawned over a vast selection of muslins, silks, and laces. Her mother had arranged the affair, no doubt in an effort to slip past Francis into London, and it seemed remarkably well received by the ladies in attendance.
Mary’spresence was barely tolerated by the young women, made all the worse by their cold and curious glares in her direction. Evidently, the rumors of her encounter with the Duke simmered still, and her reputation seemed almost irreparable.
“Come now, sister,” she heard from behind her. “Don’t look so glum! Surely, silk cannot sober you so?”
Her brother had snuck up on her in total stealth. Harry had come down to London with them on the premise of chaperoning Mary, but she knew he had only accepted his mother’s queer invitation to escape Francis’ prison.
He began to toy with the roll of red fabric before them.“What is it about these fabrics that could possibly enthrall your kind so intently? I shall never know,” he mused, mainly to himself. “Though I suppose the fancies of gentlemen aren’t that much more enticing. Well, notallof them, anyway.”
“If anyone chooses to write theHistory of the Carlisles, they shall dub you a rake; I swear it,” Mary retorted.
Harry laughed. “Oh, I hope they do! I’m the best of us.”
“The most annoying, perhaps.”Before Mary could utter another word, a cackle rang out from behind her.
Harry glared at the gaggle of girls upon noticing Mary’s discomfort, and their mockery quickly subsided. Before long, he tutted and stared back at his sister.
“You shouldn’t pay them any mind. You have the right of it, and they the wrong. Think of them simply as women so terribly bored with their own lives that they must gorge themselves on the thrill of yours.” Harry spoke his last sentiment more loudly than the rest.
Mary shook her head, wanting to change the subject. “What do you want Harry? Why not help Mama with her shopping?”
