Page 8 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
Martha shook her head, carefully lifting Anne’s arms so she could pull her mistress’s night dress over her head.
“What do those uptight, snobby fools know?” she asked.
Anne tried to smile, as she agreed with her lady’s maid. But she couldn’t quite manage. Instead, she shrugged, shaking her head.
“They know enough to stir up Mother and Father with their shaming of me,” she said. “It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to take such abuse from such a despicable man, even if it’s unladylike to defend myself. Why should he get away with saying such cruel things without so much as a reprimand?”
Martha shook her head, giving Anne a sympathetic look.
“He shouldn’t,” she said. “I am well aware that you must experience deep humiliation, particularly in light of those unfeeling individuals spreading baseless gossip about it. But you did the right thing. And I bet he will think twice before crossing you like that again.”
Anne nodded, biting back her dubiousness. If anything, the previous night had likely given him, and other men like him, more of a reason to pick at her. It would certainly place her at the center of gossip in the ladies’ circles. And the worst part of all was that Charlotte would pay the price for her actions.
As Martha pulled the blue gown over her head, she considered crawling back into bed and feigning an illness. But she knew that would only enrage her parents even more if she tried to avoid them after such a debacle.
“Are you ready, Miss Anne?” Martha asked, gesturing toward the door.
Anne shook her head, sighing heavily.
“Not at all,” she said. “But I suppose I have no choice.”
Martha shook her head, smiling sadly at Anne.
“I should say not,” she said. “Your parents would likely drag you out of your chambers.”
Anne smiled at her lady’s maid’s delightful jest. But deep down, she believed that wasn’t too far from the truth. She straightened her shoulders, determined to hold her head as highas possible. Whatever wrath was coming from her parents, she would take it with silent grace. Then, as soon as she was able, she would sneak away to the gardens to play with Mischief for a while.
Slowly, but with determination, Anne forced her feet to carry her to the drawing room. She heard the hushed murmuring as she reached the door, and she was not at all surprised when three pairs of eyes immediately turned to her. Her father’s burned with barely contained anger, her mother’s reflected shame and apparent anguish, and Charlotte’s were filled with concern and sympathy.
Anne’s heart broke. No matter how grievously her endeavours wounded her younger sibling, Charlotte never held her accountable. She offered Anne a weak smile as she walked over to the table to join her family. Anne gave one back, wishing she could apologize to her younger sister. She took her seat, arranging her skirts with deliberate composure, despite the churning of her anxious stomach. Her parents were seated across from her, their expressions seemingly frozen on their faces.
It didn’t take Anne long to see why neither of her parents had spoken a word since she entered the room. The newspaper lay on the table, sprawled across her father’s empty plate, and the scandal sheet was facing the ceiling. Anne glanced at Charlotte, who gave her a sympathetic nod. Anne swallowed, reluctantly lifting her head, and bracing herself for what she knew was to come.
“Anne,” her father said, his voice clipped and sharp as he gestured towards the newspaper. “As usual, your behaviour at the ball has not gone unnoticed. Why you can never keep yourself out of trouble is something I will never understand. I hope you are proud of yourself. That would make one of us at this table who is.”
Anne flinched at the harshness of her father’s last sentence.
“You don’t understand, Father,” she said, trying to plead her case. “He said something very cruel to me, with the intention of hurting and upsetting me. I reacted without thinking.”
Her mother sighed, pointing firmly at the scandal sheet.
“That’s the problem,” she said, her words just as biting as the viscount’s had been. “You do not think. You humiliate this family repeatedly, and you never think about how that reflects on us.”
Anne's heart sank as she followed her mother’s finger along the bold, black headline.
Miss Anne Huxley Takes Center Stage Again by Ruining Another Ball.
Anne scanned the story, flushing deeply as she read a detailed account of her confrontation with Lord Gray. Once more, she found a complete lack of shock when the author of the article named her a ‘reckless aggressor,’ and Lord Gray an innocent victim in what was just considered to be Anne’s latest public display of unladylike behavior.
Anne shook her head, frustration blending with the shame she felt.
“I don’t think it’s fair that the ton would judge things that are ultimately harmless,” she said, struggling to not whine. “No one is ever hurt. And it isn’t as though I am risking my reputation with anything I do.”
Her father chortled.
“No, of course not,” he said sarcastically. “You are only risking Charlotte’s reputation.
The breakfast table felt like a tribunal with the heavy atmosphere and her parents' disapproving glares judging her every move. In her nervous trembling, she nearly knocked over her water glass. Both her parents sighed in unison with clear agitation. Charlotte tried to comfort Anne by gently patting herback. But Anne was inconsolable. She just prayed for the tongue lashing to end so that she could hide in her chambers until she was ready to come out. Which, the way she felt right then, likely wouldn’t be until she died.
