Page 9 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
“Anne, you've tarnished our family's name,” she said. “For a couple of years, we had the fortune of being able to explain away your behaviour as the indiscretions of a young, unseasoned woman. But now, you are nearly an old maid. You know better, and you still act like a teenage girl. The whole ton is condemning our family, and we only have you to blame.”
Anne bit her lip and lowered her head. Her head was pounding in time with her heart, giving her the megrim that she had wished for before coming down for breakfast.
“Your father and I have been talking, Daughter,” the viscountess said, her voice no warmer than the lakes during Christmastide. “We agree that your actions must now have consequences. This cannot continue. We will not allow you to ruin Charlotte’s life because you cannot behave like a proper lady.”
Anne dared to glance at her father, whose expression was at last changing. Instead of the bitter scowl, he was now almost smirking. Something in his eyes made her stomach flip, and she had to sip her water to keep the bile from rising in her throat.
The viscount held up his own glass toward his middle daughter, glancing down at the paper before locking eyes with Anne once again.
“To restore our good name, you will marry Albert,” he said.
A knot tightened in Anne's stomach at the mention of her distant cousin’s name. She looked to her mother for help, but she quickly saw there would be none. The viscountess gave her a look that told Anne she was satisfied with the decision that had been reached. She shook her head, trying to protest against the idea of marrying a man as insufferable as Albert.
“Albert has, fortunately, had an interest in you for some time,” the viscountess said, looking relieved. “It is the best course of action to prevent any future incidents that could harm Charlotte or leave us in the center of any more gossip within the ton. That Albert is willing to risk taking on that burden is certainly a stroke of luck.”
Anne dropped her head as her hopes for escaping the advances of her dreadful cousin crumbled. She had once believed that her parents would protect her, at least from a marriage to a cousin who did little but drink and create his own rumors and was twice her age. But the harsh reality became painfully clear.
“Surely, this won’t be necessary,” Anne whispered, knowing full well there was no point in pressing the issue.
Sure enough, her father pretended as though she hadn’t spoken.
“Albert and I have already discussed the matter,” he said. “He said that once we had reached our decision, he would have the arrangements made for the two of you to wed when he returns from his last business trip.”
Anne stared dumbly ahead, her thoughts screaming but her voice too weak to use. Beside her, Charlotte remained silent, but her concern was almost tangible enough to touch. She silently reached out and put her hand over Anne’s. Only then could Anne turn to give her sister another faint smile.
“Very well,” she said, her voice breaking with the strain of speaking through her dread. “May I be excused?”
Without waiting for an answer, she gave Charlotte one more tight smile, then exited the room without another word. She ran all the way back up the stairs, tumbling through the door to her bedchambers so quickly that she woke Mischief from his slumber. The cat raised from his soft, plush bed, stretching his muscular body across the floor as he made his way to hismistress. Anne bent down to scratch him behind the ears as he rubbed himself against her legs.
“Oh, Mischief,” she said, surprising even herself at how mournful she sounded. “How did my life come to this?”
The ginger cat tilted his head up to look at her, blinking slowly before licking her hand, which dangled limply at her side. Anne scratched him again, wandering aimlessly over to her desk. One idea, bleak and useless as she was sure it was, came to her. She pulled out some stationery and her pen quill as Mischief curled up at her feet. As quickly as her trembling hands would allow, she penned a letter to Susan, pleading with her friend for the chance to speak with her.
She briefly explained the pending wedding plans, begging Susan to visit her as soon as she could. Then, she sealed the letter, sending up a silent prayer. Susan might not have a solution for her. But perhaps, if she could talk things over with the one person to whom she felt closest apart from Charlotte, things wouldn’t seem so hopeless and frightening. At the very least, it would give her something to look forward to before her life was turned upside down.
Chapter Four
A knock on his bedchamber door roused Richard from a deep, alcohol assisted slumber. He sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them of the sleep from whence he had just been dragged.
“Enter,” he boomed, his voice thick with fatigue.
Watson, his valet, strode into the room, a look of purpose on his face.
“Her Grace insisted that I come fetch you at once,” he said. “She said she wishes to discuss something with you straightaway.”
Richard groaned. He didn’t need to ask what she wanted. It didn’t take a scholar to guess what she would say to him. She spoke of him finding a bride every day as of late, and she would continue to do so until he was finally wed. But why had she had him awoken? Usually, she waited until he joined her for a meal to begin her meddling. What changed that morning?
Still groggy, Richard shook his head at the unspoken question. It didn’t matter. He would get up and get dressed and face his mother. Perhaps, if he could get the pesky conversation out of the way early that day, he could spend the rest of the day avoiding her without incurring her wrath.
He padded over to his dresser, blindly pulling out a fancy blue suit and matching boots. He had no plans for the day, as he had completed all his ledgers for the month just two days prior and wouldn’t need to begin the new ones for another day or so. But he thought that, if his mother became too persistent, he might steal away to White’s again.
“Don’t be of too much help, milord,” Watson said wryly as he tugged on Richard’s arm.
Richard glanced down and realized that he had been standing immobile while the valet tried to help him dress. He smirked despite himself at Watson’s sarcastic humor. His valet wasn’t one for mincing words, and despite his dry wit, he was respectful and loyal to Richard.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I suppose my arms feel as heavy as my mind does.”
Watson snorted as Richard held out his arms.
