Page 30 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
Anne’s cheeks flushed hot, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, it wasn’t because she felt ashamed or embarrassed. The duke was giving her sincere praise, and it both humbled and elated her. Even her mother seemed pleased, giving her a small smile. Perhaps, the rest of the day wouldn’t be filled with the weight of her parents’ silent admonishment, as was so often the case.
“Would you consider staying for lunch?” the viscountess asked, once more directing her attention to the duke.
The delight Anne had taken in the praise from the duke dissolved instantly in the face of the desperation in her mother’s voice. She glanced over at the Duke, who was giving an indulgent smile to the viscountess as he rose, shaking his head.
“I regret being forced to say no,” he said. “But I do have that meeting.” He paused, turning back to Anne, his expression warming as soon as their eyes met, and he gave her a wink. “However, I shall be looking forward to promenade hour tomorrow.”
Anne nodded, giving the duke what she was sure must have been her hundred thousandth grateful look. As he bowed, his cheeks turned pink, and only then did she realize that he had repeated himself when talking about taking her to the park during promenade hour. She bit her lip, hiding an amused smile. He seemed as awkward with their interactions as she was sometimes. And there was something endearing to her about that.
“As will I, Your Grace,” she said shyly, with a great deal more sincerity than she’d felt after her mother had accepted the outing before she could reject it. She reminded herself that he was good company. And he seemed to feel the same way about her. She knew they needed to make their charade believable. But Anne was sure that he wouldn’t be so genuine and kind to her if there wasn’t some sincere interest in sharing his time with her. And if that were the case, at least she could be comfortable and have fun with him.
The viscountess and Charlotte rose to curtsey, and Anne automatically followed suit as the butler arrived to escort the duke to the door. As he exited the room, he gave her another playful smile, making her blush again. Anne remained standing even once he was gone. She wanted a moment to herself toprocess everything from that morning. She had been seeking that after breakfast. But now, she had even more to consider.
She was so overwhelmed with the day so far that she jumped when her mother rushed over and embraced her.
“Anne, did you see how taken he was by your performance?” she asked. “Why, anyone could see how smitten he is becoming with you. This is a promising development, darling. I am very proud of you, Anne. But being asked to promenade hour with a duke is a very big event. We must ensure you are dressed impeccably.”
Anne's heart sank, diluting the marginal excitement she was beginning to feel at the idea of spending time with Richard the following day. The last thing she wanted was to feel like she was being showcased for the world to see. It was the pressure and expectations of the ton that made her uncomfortable at social events. Now, she was being put on display, exactly as she hated.
Yet, she held back her reservations, knowing how important this event was for her family's standing in society. Especially hers. It was hurtful and irritating that her mother was only proud of her now that a duke seemed to be showing interest in her. But she was grateful for the reprieve from the worry of walking into a room where her mother sat and getting more lectures or disapproving looks. If the cost for such peace was a few more social events, she supposed she could manage that.
“Oh, heavens, we will need Elizabeth’s help,” the viscountess said, her eyes widening. “The two of you are precisely the same measurements. And I know that your current wardrobe doesn’t have the perfect gown for tomorrow. But I am certain that Elizabeth will.”
Anne sighed. She felt sure it would have been enough for her to find something in her own dresser. She knew she had some new dresses she hadn’t yet had any cause to wear. But she also knew that her mother disliked much of her taste in clothing,with only the rarest of exceptions. Anne liked bright orange and yellow dresses because they reminded her of Mischief, very vibrant blues and greens and even occasionally bright pinks. It wasn’t likely that Elizabeth had any dresses that Anne felt would properly suit her. But if it satisfied her mother, she would try, anyway.
The viscountess rounded up her younger daughters, frantically arranging the preparations for their carriage to be ready. Charlotte grabbed onto Anne’s arm, grinning like a child at Christmastide.
“Oh, Sister, this is so exciting,” she said. “Mother was right, you know. He did appear to be utterly taken with you earlier. It’s as though you found your way out of normal life and right into something from a storybook.”
Anne gave her sister a smile, but she said nothing. She needed to confide in Charlotte. But right then wasn’t the time. Their mother was too close and might overhear. Charlotte’s idea was charming, and it was something Anne hoped her sister would find for herself as a result of her fake courtship with the duke. But for Anne, any such illusion was just that: an illusion. And that was just the way she liked it. Wasn’t it?
***
“Oh, Sister, that will make you look far too pale,” Elizabeth muttered, holding up a nice, pale blue dress to Anne’s face as though Anne had been the one to suggest it. As she had suspected, her mother was only acknowledging the pale, light, softer colors of Elizabeth’s, which was most of the dresses she had ever owned. And worse still, Elizabeth had nothing flattering to say about any of the ones she did have. Except, of course, Anne’s least favorite ones.
The viscountess nodded in agreement with her eldest daughter, frowning.
“You’re right,” she said. “She needs something paler. Especially with her eyes so… prominent.”
Anne stifled the urge to roll her eyes. It was as if her mother could never truly be proud of, or confident in, her middle daughter. Truthfully, it was a wonder that anyone in the ton believed that the Duke of Calder was interested in her.
That thought allowed doubt and worry to creep into Anne’s mind as she wondered what might happen if the ton were to discover their secret. Would they be ostracized? Would they be forced into going through with marriage to maintain their status and to keep from being disowned by their families? Her breath caught in her throat, and she yearned for a moment of solitude to collect her thoughts.
“Mother,” she said, giving her mother the sweetest smile she could muster. “I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Might I go out onto the balcony, just to get a little air?”
She expected a scowl or a bitter admonishment. However, her mother gave her an indulgent smile, stroking her cheek.
“Of course, darling,” she said with a kindness that Anne had only heard directed at Charlotte in recent years. “I can imagine that all this sudden attention from a duke is very overwhelming for a young lady like you. But don’t dally too long. We must have your dress this evening so that you can get to bed early and be well rested for tomorrow.”
Anne forced herself not to flinch at her mother’s backhanded compliment. She just continued to smile, softly excusing herself from the room to step out on the balcony of her elder sister’s bedroom chambers. She let the fresh air fill her lungs, the cool breeze ruffling her hair and soothing her anxiety. For that moment, at least, she felt free from the societal standards and expectations to which she was always otherwise shackled. She knew she would never fit in with the proper, dry and snobby people of London’s high society. She wished for aday when she wouldn’t have to. Nothing was more important to her than being as free as she felt right then. But would that time ever come? Could she ever truly be herself?
When she returned inside, it was with great reluctance. It was also to the sight of her mother holding up two pink gowns, as though she herself intended to choose between the two. Anne was stricken with a sudden desire to reclaim control. She might have her mother dictating her social and romantic life. But she would not have the viscountess tell her what she could and couldn’t. Not anymore.
Glancing around the room, her eyes were finally drawn to a bright orange gown that had clearly been hidden by all the other ones. It was striking, its vibrant color reminding her of Mischief’s brilliant eyes and its busy swirled design reflecting both the freedom she had felt outside and the chaos she felt when having to try to conform. To Anne, it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen, and in one of her favourite colors. With resolve, she turned to her mother and Elizabeth with a determined smile.
“This one,” she said. “This one is my choice.”
As always, she expected resistance and a lecture. Bright orange was, after all, considered a gaudy color with ton society. But she was prepared to point out that it belonged to Elizabeth, not to her. And if it was all right for Elizabeth to own such a dress, then it should be acceptable for Anne to wear it.
