Page 8 of A Duke's Sinful Bargain
“Whatever you think you know, Lady Genevieve, I assure you that I do not wish to hear of it,” Anna spoke, drowning the curiosity which was eating her up alive. She was torn between yearning to know this supposed truth and turning away so she would not listen to lies.
But what were they? Lies or the truth? Anna could not know. After all, she knew so little of the man in question. And the most frightening thing of all was that she wanted to know more—so much more.
Lady Genevieve could immediately sense that Anna was hooked. She leaned in, ensuring her words would reach Anna’s ears alone. “It is said that his public image is but a mask, a veil to conceal a more sinister truth. While he graces social events and engages in philanthropy, his private affairs tell a different tale. Whispers weave a narrative of a secluded life, one filled with… shall we call them questionable practices?”
“Like what?” Anna could not help but be intrigued even more.
Lady Genevieve’s eyes shone with a sinister gleam. Yet, Anna could not pull away. She had to know.
“Some claim he entertains women at his residence, seeking… satisfaction without the need for marriage. A man leading such a clandestine existence, my dear, is not to be trusted,” Lady Genevieve insinuated, her words calculated to cast a shadow on the duke’s character.
Anna, though taken aback by the revelation, maintained her composure. The rumors, delivered with a dark intent, had the potential to tarnish the duke’s reputation. Yet she harbored a skepticism born from experience, understanding that society’s whispers were often distorted reflections of truth.
“You do not have to believe me,” Lady Genevieve spoke as she pulled away. “But do not say later that you were not warned by a friendly soul.”
A friendly soul?Anna almost laughed aloud at the thought, but she managed to stifle the temptation to do so. Lady Genevieve was anything but a friendly soul. That much Anna was certain of. Fortunately, the malicious trio departed hastily into the crowd of people, leaving Anna with the weight of the words that were just shared with her.
Losing herself in the tempest of her thoughts, Anna let her eyes dart across the room, from one cheerful face to the next. Intrigue pulled her toward the mysterious duke, captivated by the dance and conversation they just shared. Caution, however, anchored her in the reality of society’s judgments.
Defying all common sense that she had in her, she realized she wanted to be near him. She wanted to be by his side and learn more about him. As the opulent gathering persisted in its grandeur, Anna searched the glittering crowd for the duke. A sense of urgency gripped at her heart. She would never dare ask him if the malicious whispers had even an ounce of truth in them. But she hoped that, through conversation, she would see him for the man that he was.
Despite her efforts, the duke remained elusive, almost as if the shadows themselves had embraced him in an effort to conceal him from her. Her heart, torn between curiosity and caution, longed for the chance to prolong their conversation, to see this man again who had managed to stir a dormant passion within her.
“The duke?” Lady Pentor echoed upon being asked about him, as Anna could not resist remaining quiet any longer, the lady’s inquisitive eyes probing beneath the surface of the woman who stood before her. “Why, he has left, dear.”
“Left?” The word reverberated through the solitary corridors of Anna’s mind, giving rise to more questions than answers.
“Yes,” Lady Pentor said somehow sorrowfully. “He excused himself with urgent business in the morning and he left… a bit abruptly, come to think of it.”
“I see.” Anna smiled, trying not to appear perplexed. After all, they were mere acquaintances whose paths had crossed only for a fleeting moment on this particular evening. He did not owe her anything, not even a goodbye.
But then again, why was she hoping for one?
Chapter 5
Anna knew sleep would not grace her with its presence that evening upon returning from Lady Pentor’s ball. She flew through the door of her townhouse in Mayfair, which exuded an air of refined elegance, reflecting her late husband’s taste for opulence.
As she ascended the grand staircase, the rich tapestry of burgundy and gold lining the walls whispered tales of Ravenscroft grandeur. The soft glow of crystal chandeliers cast an ethereal ambiance, guiding her steps through the corridors adorned with ancestral portraits.
Entering Lord Arthur Ravenscroft’s study, Anna found herself enveloped in the scent of aged leather and polished mahogany. The room was a sanctuary of knowledge, lined with towering bookshelves that cradled volumes of literature and legal tomes. The fireplace crackled, casting a warm glow over the room, and plush armchairs invited scholarly contemplation, but there was no one willing to undergo such an endeavor at a time like this.
The mahogany desk, an emblem of Lord Ravenscroft’s authority, stood as the focal point. Its surface, adorned with inkwells and quills, bore the markings of countless deliberations. A globe, intricately detailed, symbolized the family’s global interests, and a map sprawled across one wall showcased the vastness of their land holdings, of which there was so little left now.
In the quiet solitude of her husband’s study, memories of their marriage echoed through the ornate walls. The arrangement, forged by familial ties and financial considerations, had been one of convenience rather than fervor. Her father, a shrewd man with an eye on their family’s standing, had orchestrated the union, and Anna, young and compliant, had acquiesced to the predetermined match.
Truth be told, Lord Ravenscroft was a man of mature years compared to young Anna, but he bore the mantle of a respectable gentleman, which was what mattered to her father. Their union was one of mutual respect, of appreciation and sometimes even care, but it lacked the fiery passion Anna had always secretly yearned for.
But that was before she had been married off to a man who had reserved bed-sharing exclusively for the pursuit of offspring, a pursuit that, despite its dedicated efforts, remained unfruitful.
As Anna traced her fingers along the spines of the books that lined the study, the memory of a marriage devoid of physical intimacy weighed on her mind. The dance with the duke had stirred dormant desires within her, unveiling a yearning that had long been relegated to the shadows.
The echoes of her past union contrasted sharply with the unexpected allure of the enigmatic duke, leaving Anna at the crossroad of duty and desire, tradition and newfound longing.
Just as she was about to focus her attention on her late husband’s ledgers, a knock on the door interrupted her.
“Yes?” Anna’s brow lifted in confusion, wondering who it could be at this late hour.
The door opened, revealing Miss Eliza Littleton, Anna’s loyal lady’s maid. “Am I interrupting, my lady?” she asked.
