Page 41 of When her Duke Returns
Mary dared not look back at him. Instead, she sauntered over to the chest of drawers where she laid to rest her jewelry and keepsakes. With a soft pull, she opened the uppermost tray. She had not scoured it in almost a year and was surprised to find many mementos she had thought to have discarded: a laced bootie from her christening, an old necktie of her father’s, a letter from her first caller, and more.
There was barely any room to store something new. She nudged a tangle of pearls aside and reached for the back of the drawer to scoot things forward. Her hand came to rest upon a small, cold item at the very back of the compartment. With a tug, she pulled it free.
It was the Redgrave coat of arms that sat atop a crest of silver. The Duke had gifted her the brooch before he had left for war as a token by which to remember him. All at once, her mind clouded with memory. She slammed the drawer shut to keep her anger at bay.
“What’s wrong?” Antony asked. “Mary?”
Mary stood resolute before the chest of drawers, her fingers curling painfully around the marbled knobs. “Nothing,” she replied then softened with a breath. “The drawer was jammed,” she lied. “Is there aught else I can help you with? If not, I am quite busy with my things.”
Antony got to his feet before the bed, appearing quite flustered by her dismissal of him. “Actually, there is” he began, “though I fear you will not much like it.”
Mary turned to meet his gaze. “It must be quite terrible if you sought to butter me up with jewelry.”
“That was not—” the Earl began then thought better of it. “We have received a letter.”
“Of what sort?”
“Of the sort that is like to cause quite a bit of distress.”
Mary braced herself. “What is it?”
Antony sighed and pulled the note from the inner pocket of his overcoat. “The Rowes and Stantons are hosting a dinner in East Anglia to celebrate their upcoming union… The invite is dated almost a month back. One can only assume it got lost in the post. Perhaps misplaced by Cluett or my butler… I only came upon it as we were sifting through old correspondence at the house.”
Mary’s stomach dropped. She knew they would not outrun this day forever, but to see it now, etched on paper, a month after the fact, no less… It felt quite cruel.
“Are you saying you’ve had this for a month? I shan’t believe it.”
“Would you accuse me of lying, Mary? This is the first I’ve seen of it.”
“Then why haven’t Mama or Francis received such an invite? Why would the Duke invite you and I, of all people, after your fight? After—” She wanted to sayafter the rumors of my rendezvous with the Dukebut thought better of it. Perhaps their shared trip to Whitcliff had patched things up somewhat after all.
Antony pressed his lips together. “This was not penned by the Duke. The Dowager Duchesses sent it. I suppose it’s a show of good faith. What should I say?”
“You’re askingme? Is it not your job to decide these things?” she shot back. She was hardly convinced by his story though she feared more was at play than she knew. If the Dowagerhadsent the invite, what had she to gain besides toying with Mary? Her victory was plain.
“Come now, Mary. You’re hardly the picture of obedience! My thought is this—if they are to pair off, as we are, is it not better to see things resolved and save face by attending the dinner?”
Mary sighed and began pacing. “Clearly the invite was not sent with the intention of seeing us attend.”
“That seems quite the contradiction,” Antony interjected. “What are you implying?”
“As you said. It was a show of good faith, nothing more.”
“You do not wish to go, then?”
“Do you?” She echoed.
Antony stepped toward her and sought to bring her hand into his. “Not particularly,” he hummed, “but I fear it won’t do to further alienate ourselves.”This was quite the turn of events. Never would Mary have imagined that Antony would be the one petitioning her straight into the lion’s den.
“You were quite set on our being apart from the Duke some months back,” she noted in reference to their move North.
“That was before he was set to wed Miss Stanton when I thought he still had eyes for you. Oh, Mary! This is not who we are. The Simons do not back down. And I shall not pass up the chance to flaunt my betrothed when the opportunity presents itself.”
Mary still was not convinced. “I cannot agree to this, yet. I must settle the matter with my family first. We will all be traveling northbound at the time of the dinner, regardless. If we go, doubtless they shall follow.”
Antony shrugged. “I suspect Francis will be hard-fought in moving Sophia around more than he must. I cannot speak for Harry nor your mother.”
“Then I must lay things out before the eve beckons.”
