Page 7 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
“Consider the wager made, my friend,” he said.
Thomas nodded, pausing just long enough to take another shot. Richard noticed there were only five balls left on the table. Thomas righted himself after making one shot but missing the next. He held out his stick in front of him, leaning his hip against the billiard table.
“So, to whom is your mother trying to marry you this week?” he asked with a grin.
Richard groaned at the thought.
“Lady Eleanor Westbrook,” he said.
Thomas gaped at Richard, slowly shaking his head.
“Well, I can see why you would be reluctant about her,” he said. “There is no greater sofa cushion in all of London.”
Richard snorted, but it was a statement too close to the truth for him to find any true humor.
“She is as rigid as they come,” he said. “She reminds me quite a bit of Mother, now that I think of it.”
Thomas sniffed.
“That would explain why your mother would suggest her,” he said.
Richard shuddered again.
“Let’s forget about that,” he said. “I have a game to win.”
Thomas laughed once more, looking at Richard with bemusement.
“I believe it is I who will win,” he said.
Thomas was right. He did, indeed, with that round of billiards. The gentlemen concluded their refreshments and requested additional libations before Richard proceeded to set up the following round. Thomas kept Richard in high spirits by discussing his new business ventures in the perfume and cosmetic industry and the fresh connections the trade opened up to him. It was a relief to Richard to finally be able to forget his mother’s meddling for a little while. He drank and played his troubles away with Thomas until well into the evening. Despite the darkening sky outside the windows of the club, he was disappointed when Thomas walked over to the wall and replaced his billiard cue stick.
“I believe I will take my leave,” he said. “I have an early meeting with Lord Harton in the morning. We will be arranging our first shipment of cosmetics, hopefully for next week.”
Richard nodded, clapping his friend on the back.
“Good luck to you, my friend,” he said. “I do hope we can do this again soon.”
Thomas grinned and nodded.
“I will take any chance I can get to beat you at billiards,” he said.
The cool night air caressed Richard’s face as he stepped outside the club. He waved farewell to Thomas, then took his time taking the short walk to his waiting carriage. It was a pleasant night, and Richard wished he had walked to the club. Thomas's words echoed in his thoughts, and once again, he found himself seeing sense in the idea his friend had proposed. Could he really shape his own future on his own terms? Was it truly so simple?
Chapter Three
Anne felt as though she had stones tied to her limbs when she awoke the next morning. It was all she could do to sit upright in bed and pull the cord to summon Martha. As soon as she had, she buried her face in her hands, wishing that, as she used to pretend when she was a child, it would make her invisible. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. The burden of the humiliation from the previous evening was too heavy on her heart, and she had cried out every last teardrop before falling into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.
When Martha entered, Anne quietly pushed herself out of bed, walking dutifully to her dressing area and waiting for her lady’s maid to select a dress. By the time Martha reached her, ready to dress her for the day, she had noticed Anne’s dour mood. She draped the outfit over one arm and gently squeezed Anne’s shoulder with her free hand.
“Miss Anne, why do you look so troubled?” she asked.
Anne sighed, quickly filling Martha in on the incident with Lord Gray. Martha pulled her into a tight embrace, giving her a gentle smile.
“Well, who could blame you for throwing wine in his face after that?” she asked.
Anne chortled, her eyes burning as if with tears, but once again, none came.
“The entirety of the ton, it seems,” she mumbled.
