Page 13 of Her Wicked Duke
“Psh!” Annette complained. “You were the rowdiest of all, dear.”
“Do notdearme. You will turn on the tears any moment and start gobbling up all of our breakfasts, as well as your own, no?”
“Papa!” Anne cried, appalled. “Do not speak to Mama like that.”
Sometimes her mother could hold her own against her father, but her father often took it too far, and then the tears did come. But Anne did not think her mother was wrong for feeling teary.
Whether her father did not hear her or did not care, he went on anyway. “If you wish to find another gentleman friend, Annette, then I suggest you do so swiftly. But you shall find yourself without a title if we are to divorce.”
“Divorce!” Annette cried. “You would not last two days without me, Matthew.”
“Oh, dearest, I think I would do quite well.”
Her eyes assessed him, unimpressed. “Yes, I can very much see the ladies that will line up for your… offerings.” She wrinkled her nose, giggling at her own jibe.
They loved to bicker and rile each other up, but Anne found that it grated on her nerves.
Is this to be my life in the future?
Her parents’ arguments were usually comical, but underneath, she did not feel secure that the threats they flung at each other would not become real one day.
“I think I might promenade with Mary today.” Anne tried to interrupt their argument to no avail. Not even the mention of her older sister could get them to pause. “Or perhaps I might find myself a swan to decorate my head for when my suitors arrive.”
“—I just think that flirting with our musicians was a little too far?—”
“—I saw your eyes wander to Lady Tetherton?—”
“—You are delusional, woman?—”
The back and forth went over Anne’s head, and she groaned. “I shall be alone forever,” she muttered to herself, tuning them out.
Any moment now, her father might make her mother bolt out of the room and find the nearest sweet treat to settle her nerves. Anne’s anxiety increased, anticipating that moment.
Their butler suddenly came in, carrying a silver plate with a sealed white letter on top and a paper knife next to it. “A letter, My Lord, My Lady, from the young master.”
The commotion at the breakfast table screeched to a halt. Anne looked up, her mood brightening after her parents had almost soured it.
Annette held out her hand. “I shall read it, thank you,” she said, more to the Marquess than anyone else.
The butler placed the letter and paper knife in front of her, and she sliced open the seal. Her eyes scanned the contents.
“Oh, how wonderful! Christian sends word from Spain! He says the weather there is starting to get warmer than it was here when he left. He remembers I had our ball planned! Anne, he sends his love.”
Apparently, Christian had made this arrangement in private, as her mother did not mention it, and he clearly did not feel the need to ask for updates.
“He says he shall be returning home in a couple of months!” Annette squealed.
Christian was her middle child, but as her only son and the heir to the Angleton fortune, he was by far her favorite, even if she insisted that she did not have favorites when it came to her children.
Annette handed the letter over to Matthew, smiling softly at him now that word from her son had lightened her mood.
As Matthew read the letter, she turned her full focus on Anne. “So, darling,” she asked, “how did the ball go?”
Anne cleared her throat, unable to hide her smile, which spoke enough of an answer due to her bashfulness.
Truth be told, she loved talking about these things with her mother. Annette Hatson had been one of the most sought-after young ladies in her younger days, and Anne saw herself taking after her mother. Their shapely figures usually drew a lot of male attention.
It is more for the men to admire, my sweet, Annette had once said when Anne had once asked why she did not look like the other smaller girls.
