Page 12 of Destined to be a Duchess
Chapter 6
Catherine Colline was a fierce proponent of the adage that things were always better after a good night’s sleep. In Anthony’s case, he woke the next morning still weary from weeks of travel, deciding to forgo his long-anticipated stroll of the grounds in favour of a few more hours in bed.
By the time he had awoken, bathed, and met his new valet—a man named Booker, who had previously attended his father—he was faced with the difficult choice of what to wear. Oh, Anthony was far from the Pink of theton. He had never had a mind for fashion. But his mother had ordered a collection of mourning clothes for him, and Anthony couldn’t decide whether he was ready to put them on.
He spent the day in Norwich with Patrick for company, reuniting with old friends at the gentlemen’s club—not sporting black after all. It wasn’t until dinner time arrived at Moorhaven that Anthony draped himself in those dour clothes, wanting to support his mother in her own grief, even if he hadn’t yet come to terms with his own mourning.
Pausing at the top of the landing, he leaned on the balustrade and glanced over the entrance hall. He had done so much in the two years since he had left England. His travel sketchbooks were full of sketches of the places he had seen and the people he had met.
In that time, Moorhaven Manor hadn’t changed an inch. The marble columns, the three-tiered chandelier, and the crimson drapes were exactly as Anthony had remembered them. The only thing that had changed, he thought, was the fact that his father was no longer there.
He felt rather than heard someone approaching from behind him. His mother’s new protégée appeared in the archway leading to the guest wing. The sight of her gave him pause. She looked completely different from the day prior, dressed in a pale-yellow gown that she could never have afforded on a seamstress’ salary. Her pearl earrings caught the light from the nearby sconces as she stopped to affix them properly in the hallway mirror.
Anthony realized he was staring too late. Marianne turned with a gasp, and one of the earrings flew out of her hand. He dashed over to retrieve it from the carpet, feeling guilty for having scared her in the first place.
“My apologies,” he murmured, placing the earring in her gloved hand. Despite her new dress, she was still wearing that ensnaring perfume. Heat rose from her fingers, and Anthony drew his hand away immediately. “I hadn’t meant to frighten you.”
“It’s your home.” Marianne shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze as she stepped back and returned to the mirror. “You are free tolinger as you please. I should have been paying more attention. My mind has been,” she sighed, “all over the place since yesterday.”
“My mother told me about your recent discovery.” He hadn’t checked with Catherine to see whether he was allowed to talk about Marianne’s parentage. Thankfully, she seemed unperturbed, still working her earrings fruitlessly. “Nobody would blame you for being distracted after learning something of that nature.”
“Distracted is one word for it. I …” She groaned, tearing the earring away and inspecting it with a scowl. Perhaps she wasn’t as unaffected by the news as she was pretending to be. “Her Grace left these for me to wear, along with this dress and a hundred other things I don’t deserve, but I can’t put them on.”
Anthony smiled despite himself. His mother was right—she was effortlessly charming. Before he could think better of it, he sidled up beside her and extended his hand.
“May I?”
She hesitated for a moment, then returned the earrings to him. They were clipped shut.
“You have to open them fully, like this. Don’t worry. They won’t break.” The clasp made a satisfying clicking noise as he opened it, holding it up to her earlobe and clipping it in place.
They were closer than was proper, and Anthony cleared his throat out of awkwardness as heat crept up his neck. He was far from a rake.
Everything he did was well-intentioned. Marianne, in her experience with etiquette, hopefully, wouldn’t think twice about his slip of manners with her. He could only imagine how much pain she was in, and he figured it was his duty as her host to help in any way he could and to be gentle with her. That was what his mother would have wanted.
“Ow,” she breathed, rubbing her ear as he moved from one lobe to the next. “It would be less painful to pierce them, I think.” He tilted back to look at her. Marianne’s cheeks were flushed—probably from the pain. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Think nothing of it.” He examined her for a moment, looking deep into the green eyes of the Chambers family. He wondered what he was searching for, perhaps a sign that she was who his mother had claimed. “You really had no idea?”
“What?” The sound of her voice snapped him out of his search, and he promptly stepped back. “Oh, you mean about my parents …” Marianne dropped her gaze to the floor. “No, I couldn’t have come up with something like that in my wildest dreams. I’ve spent all day just … thinking.”
“And what have you concluded?”
“That I will likely spend tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that still thinking.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Nothing is left for me in London, not with my mother gone. I could try to start a shop independently, but I would always feel like I was just running from the truth.
How could I be at peace in London knowing what I had abandoned here? But then I think about becoming a lady, and the idea frightens me so much that I can barely breathe … Do you understand what I mean?”
Anthony couldn’t understand. He had never faced a dilemma like that. From the moment he had been old enough to understand what it meant, he had known that one day he would become the next Duke of Westden—though he had hoped to delay the moment as long as he could, knowing that the acquisition of that title would necessitate his father’s death.
He wasn’t even sure why he was interested in Marianne’s predicament. The two of them would likely be sharing a house for some time, but that didn’t require them being friends. She was really his mother’s guest, not his. And yet, he wanted to know more.
“Not particularly,” he replied, “though I imagine it’s no easy task to start your life over, especially on your own.” Marianne looked up, her eyes full of worry, and he felt compelled to comfort her. “Well, you’re not entirely alone, are you? My mother has vowedto help you, and for as long as I have known her, she has never gone back on her word.”
Marianne gave a timid smile, and he was relieved. “That helps somewhat. I don’t understand the first thing about your world, but I’m guessing it’s not par for the course to accept someone like me into your home. I won’t take your kindness for granted, no matter what I decide. In the meantime, I will try to be as invisible as possible—quiet as a mouse.”
“You said that yesterday, yet here you are,” he teased. She laughed in response, and he warmed at her amusement. “There’s no use avoiding one another. My mother would force us together even if we should try to stay apart.”
“Why?” Marianne blinked hard as if he were suggesting that Catherine was planning on setting them up. He hoped that wasn’t the case. Marianne may have been beautiful and easy to speak with, but the idea of marriage was far from his mind, especially with a woman who would, at worst, be considered a pariah by theton. “I hadn’t meant that …”
