Page 38 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
Anne’s blush deepened, and she joined her younger sister, giving her a playful nudge.
“Please, just help me, you wicked thing,” she said, joining her sister in her laughter.
Within an hour, Anne had selected a green silk gown that was embroidered with white pearls and adorned with lace ribbons, adding to it her matching gloves and shoes. It was a notably more subdued color than the orange one she had worn the day before, but she selected it by design. She might enjoy watching her mother squirm with her vibrant clothing choices. But she wanted to look as though she belonged beside the duke and not leave him wishing he’d never asked her to the opera.
Charlotte left to go and prepare to dine with her parents, and Martha came to help Anne dress. The green dress’s bodice was perfectly fitted to her form, while its empire waisted skirt billowed around her legs like a visible green breeze. She opted for a laurel wreath to rest atop her head after Martha styled her curly hair with half of it rolled into a neat bun and the lower half pinned around her head on each side, with one final tuft of curls dangling down past her shoulders. It was her compromise to her modest, toned-down outfit.
Each brush stroke and dress adjustment felt momentous to Anne as Martha added dashes of rouge and rosewater perfume with a flourish. She thought about what Charlotte had said, trying to recall the way in which the duke looked at her. She could see the genuine friendliness in his eyes when he smiled at her. Did she perchance observe him ogling at her with a slight gape on the previous day? And was he really stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, or had she imagined it all?
Mischief suddenly darted under her dress, passing quickly between her feet as he chased a particle of floating dust. She giggled, pausing to pat him and soothe her fragile nerves.
“You must behave tonight, my darling, she whispered to the feline, who merely purred in response, seemingly indifferent to her admonition.
Martha laughed heartily.
“One could be forgiven for thinking you were speaking to a child, if they heard these interactions before they saw them,” she said fondly.
Anne smiled and nodded, giving the animal a doting kiss on the head before standing upright again.
“He is my child,” she said. “He just happens to have fur and speak a different language.”
The two women laughed.
When she was ready at last, Charlotte took her leave and Martha escorted Anne down the stairs, prepared to act as her chaperone for the evening. They walked together to the parlor, where Anne could hear her parents talking animatedly. The Duke must have already arrived. Suddenly, she was filled with excitement, and she had to force herself to remain calm as she stepped into the room.
Her parents were conversing with the Duke of Calder about some menial social gossip. But their voices faded away as Anne, entirely captivated, couldn't tear her eyes away from the duke. He looked incredibly dashing in his cream-colored suit. His dark hair was perfectly combed, save for one strand that insisted on dangling beside his left eye. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed politely at some joke the viscount made. Her mother’s diverted attention alerted him to Anne’s entrance, and he looked toward the door.
Their eyes met, and the intensity in his gaze set Anne's heart and stomach aflutter. She offered a shy smile, trying to breathe through the butterflies that swirled in her stomach. The connection she previously thought she felt with him returned with amplified force, and she found it difficult to look away fromhim. She was enthralled with him, as though he had waved a magic wand and put her under a spell.
“Miss Huxley, you look absolutely beautiful,” he said as he rose from his seat beside her father, a crooked smile spreading across his face.
Anne blushed. She might have thought he was just being polite. But his eyes were wide and sparkling, and there was no deception or polite refrain in them. He seemed truly impressed, which made her heart race faster.
“You look very handsome, Your Grace,” Anne said, dipping into a curtsey.
The duke approached her, offering her his arm. Meanwhile, the viscount and viscountess also rose, following the duke to where Anne stood.
“Have a wonderful evening, darling,” her mother said. Her look of appraisal was brief and approving, and she patted Anne gently on the back. The viscount gave her a nod, flashing her a brief smile.
“Mind your manners,” he said. His tone was jovial, but Anne had no doubt that there was actual warning in his words.
Anne nodded, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. The duke caught her eye, unseen by her parents and gave her one of his classic winks.
“Shall we?” he asked, ignoring her parents and gesturing toward the door.
Anne nodded, smiling gratefully.
“Yes, let’s,” she said.
The carriage waited for the three of them outside, with a footman opening the door as they approached. Richard helped Martha inside the coach, then turned to help Anne. She was expecting the bolt of lightning that occurred each time the duke touched her. But it still took away her breath for a brief moment as she stepped gracefully into the carriage. Once the dukehimself was aboard, the carriage pulled away from her home, rolling smoothly toward the theater.
“Do you have a particular favourite opera?” the duke asked as Anne’s home faded from sight.
Anne thought it over before smiling.
“I enjoy all of Mozart’s operas,” she said. “But I suppose you wish to know if I have a favourite besides his?”
The duke shrugged, his lips twitching and his eyes sparkling mysteriously.
