Page 17 of A Duke's Sinful Bargain
In the quiet of the carriage, Eliza maintained her supportive presence, ready to offer comfort or words of solace if Anna chose to share the tempest within her. However, Anna could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.
No. This was not the time for talking. She needed to calm her racing thoughts. She needed to reconsider everything, although she knew deep down that there was absolutely no way she would be able to pay off the insane sum owed to the duke by her late husband.
She wanted to curse the man to hell and back for what he had done to her, leaving her in a predicament such as this one, but she reminded herself that he hadn’t done it on purpose. After all, her late husband was not a bad man. He was human, as were the rest of them, and as such, they were all prone to mistakes. Who was she to judge?
“We’re here, my lady.” Anna felt the touch of Eliza’s hand on her own.
“Ah.” Anna nodded, allowing a sigh of relief to escape her. “Good.”
The girls exited the carriage and headed inside the house, with Eliza following her. Anna turned to her with a reassuring smile. “You may rest for the afternoon, Eliza. I won’t be needing you.”
Eliza did not seem convinced. Her words came cautiously. “Are you sure, my lady?”
“Yes, dear Eliza.” Anna nodded. “I need to be alone for a while to think about everything.” Usually, she would welcome the presence of her dear friend who was more than happy to offer her perspective, but this time, Anna wanted to be undisturbed with her thoughts.
Eliza was still skeptical, but all she could do was agree. “As you wish, my lady.”
Anna climbed up the stairs and closed the door to her chamber, leaning onto it with the entire weight of her body, almost as if a monster was on the prowl for her and might come bursting through that door at any moment.
Indeed, Anna had a monster breathing down her neck, in the guise of he late husband’s debt. She needed to rise out of this situation a free woman, so that she would be able to live out the rest of her life as she saw fit, not owing anyone anything. But to obtain that goal, sacrifices needed to be made.
She walked over to the window and gazed outside. The glow of the afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden hue. She had a little more than four and twenty hours to make her decision.
It was between offering herself as payment or bearing the brunt of the social scourge, which would eventually transform her into a pariah. Worse yet, she would be left utterly destitute. In either case, she would not rise out of this situation with her dignity unscathed.
She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. There was only one thing to do, what she had already agreed to do. And the evening of the following day would be the first step toward obtaining that goal.
Freedom,she kept reminding herself.That is why you are doing this.
Chapter 9
Seconds felt like entire hours as the following day dragged on. Alexander had barely slept the previous night, in anticipation of the events that were to determine his near future. Nothing had ever been this confusing, this titillating, this… maddening.
As the evening sun cast a warm glow through the heavy draperies, Alexander stood before an ornate looking glass, selecting from an array of cravats meticulously arranged on a gilded tray. The rich fabric of each one bore the mark of impeccable craftsmanship, a testament to his uncompromising standards.
This evening was very important, crucial even, and his attire needed to accentuate that. He wanted to look regal. That was why he had been going through his wardrobe, an assemblage of tailored suits and waistcoats, whispering tales of sartorial elegance.
With measured deliberation, he chose a waistcoat of deep burgundy silk, its sheen catching the light as he held it against his frame. The meticulous attention to detail extended to the choice of cufflinks, each one an understated masterpiece of silver and onyx.
Every movement, every adjustment, was executed with the utmost precision. Alexander’s reflection in the mirror bore the mark of aristocratic grace, a portrait of a man who understood the weight of his lineage and the significance of every public appearance.
Only, that evening mattered more than any ball ever could. He wanted to look his best for his guest, to whom he himself had, for some inexplicable reason, given the keys to his own future and the manner in which it was to unfold.
As he secured his cravat with practiced ease, he met his own gaze in the looking glass. The sharp angles of his jawline framed a countenance that exuded confidence, a demeanor cultivated by years of navigating the intricacies of high society.
The final touch, a subtle application of cologne, lingered in the air. Everything was perfect. Then why were his fingers slightly trembling? It was all more than odd. He had not trembled before anyone in a long time. No one had been allowed that power over him. He attributed it to Anna’s unapologetic boldness.
With the meticulous ritual of preparation complete, Alexander surveyed his reflection with a steely resolve. That evening held the promise of intrigue, and so much more.
The polished veneer of aristocracy masked the excitement beneath, a storm of conflicting sentiments that Alexander concealed with the same mastery he applied to his evening attire. He had always been a man who hid what was just underneath the surface. He took a deep breath, glancing at the clock hanging off the wall. There was still more than enough time.
At that moment, a knock on the door interrupted the flow of his thoughts. “Yes?” he called out.
The door opened, revealing Tom’s face. “I apologize for the interruption, Your Grace.”
“Not at all, Tom.” Alexander gestured at him to come inside, welcoming the distraction. With such a slow passage of time, the sight of his trusty steward brought some relief.
“I just wanted to see if there was anything I could be of assistance with,” Tom offered. “I have spoken to Reynolds just now, and it seems every single thing is in place for the dinner tonight.”
