Page 33 of Destined to be a Duchess
He laughed, reaching over to guide her hands away from her eyes. The touch was brief and efficient, but it sent a jolt of electricity up his arm all the same. He was too casual with Marianne, manhandling her, teasing her. He feared he couldn’t stop if he tried—another addiction, kept on a short leash.
“When possible,” he replied once her hands were safely by her sides again. “My mother despises the smell of tobacco and forbade smoking at Moorhaven Manor long before I took up the habit. My father indulged in secret. As a child, I would find cheroot butts in the statue garden and try to light them …” He winced at the memory, scoffing. “I should not be telling you this. It’s not a particularly gentlemanly confession.”
“We all do silly things as children,” Marianne said, swaying gently back and forth in time with the music indoors. She clicked her tongue, preparing to say something before stopping herself. Anthony waited patiently, and her mouth curled into a side-smile.
“When I was eight, one of our neighbours took in one of the street cats for company. A fat, tabby queen named Biscuit. We’d all fight to play with the poor thing, who probably just wanted to be left alone.”
“I dread to think where this is going,” Anthony lied, taking another drag. He never wanted her to stop talking and would have listened to her for hours if there hadn’t been a party raging on inside.
“Well, it was winter when the cat appeared. I started to worry she would get cold when the neighbour let her outside. We were all of us bundled up, but poor Biscuit had nothing to protect her from the rain. No shoes, no coat, no hat …” At this, Anthony laughed, forcing Marianne to pause and snicker.
“I took some of my mother’s sketching paper and a quill and started designing a garment for Biscuit at her drafting table. Like a stocking,” she made the shape in the air, “with little leg holes, an opening for the tail, and buttons running down the back to open and close it.”
Anthony shook his head, picturing the poor tabby in her outfit. “I imagine Biscuit was none too pleased by your sartorial intervention.”
“Oh, Biscuit was fat and could have cared less what was done to her. It took only three of us to dress her, after which sherolled onto her side and refused to get up for the next hour.” Marianne grinned, looking mischievously off into the distance. “No, Biscuit was not in the least offended. My mother, on the other hand, whose best velvet I’d used to make the blasted coat …”
Marianne covered her face with her hands, cringing at the memory. Anthony threw his head back with laughter, delighted to find her grinning at him when he was done.
“And you know, I think she was secretlypleased. Not a month later, she put me to work in the back of the shop, saying that if I could design clothes for Biscuit, creating dresses for bipedal creatures would be no challenge at all. That cat-coat landed me my first and only job. Sometimes, I think it was a missed opportunity. We could have made a fortune selling clothes to dog owners. Even the Queen has her Pomeranians, after all.”
“Not all is lost,” Anthony said, leaning against the wall behind him, granting him a better view of Marianne—and the night sky behind her. He couldn’t decide which was the more enrapturing sight. “If all goes as planned, you’ll meet Queen Charlotte next year. There is still time to pitch your idea to her.”
“I think it will be hard enough to get myself taken seriously, thank you very much, without trying to sell her clothes for dogs.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. It was difficult for Anthony to tell, behind her smile, whether she really believed it would be so hardto impress theton. Her expression suddenly changed, and the question answered itself.
“But yes, about the Queen,” Marianne continued. “Lady Eliana mentioned the London Season to me earlier today. In fact, I got the impression she wanted me to enter society quite desperately—and I can’t yet tell whether it was out of the goodness of her heart or if she has some ulterior motive I can’t understand. She doesn’t know me from Eve. It makes no sense for her to be plotting against me, or to my benefit, so soon. And yet …”
Anthony nodded dourly. Eliana had mentioned Marianne to him in passing during dinner, and he had felt the same. Eliana, her friends, every guest at the party … They were all waiting with bated breath to see what London would make of Lady Marianne Chambers—because what London decided went, and until London had made up its mind about her, how could they possibly know what to think?
He had been trying not to pay too much attention to anything Eliana said, still struggling to tolerate her like always. He didn’t like the idea of her meddling in Marianne’s life. Eliana thought she was cleverer than everyone else. It was unlikely that she had met Marianne—who was different, beautiful, naturally intelligent—and had not felt intimidated.
“With Eliana, one can always assume that something else is at play,” he replied, extinguishing his cheroot on the railing. He had lost the taste for it with the mention of Eliana. “In this case, I think she is attracted by your … peculiarity.”
“I see.” Marianne sighed, fiddling with the pendant on her necklace. “She wants to befriend me for the same reason people collect exotic pets.”
“One might sayrare gemsinstead,” Anthony’s ears grew hot at the comparison, “but yes, like that, too. You should not allow Eliana’s perception of you to offend you—whatever it may be. Those who matter will see you as more than a novelty in time.” Like he did. “As much as I wish it were not true if you play Eliana’s game for now, you will reap the rewards next year. She would make a decent ally for you in London.”
Marianne seemed to understand, but he noticed her hand tighten around the railing. “I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t felt like a monkey at the Tower of London today, being gawked at by everyone from inside my cage. I’m trying not to let it affect me …” Her gloved fist squeezed around the metal. “I just hope it isn’t like this forever.”
“It won’t be.” Anthony stepped forward on instinct, not wanting her to be upset. His own hand was balled by his side, held there because anyone could walk past at any minute, and an innocent, consolatory touch could cause a scandal for them both. “I swear it to you, Marianne. Once you have formally entered society, you will be considered an equal in time. The gentlemen of thetonwill be fighting tooth and nail for a dance with you.”
“Perhaps if one of them can stop laughing long enough to grant me a second look,” Marianne joked, peering up at him under her lashes, “I might have a chance at convincing one of them to marry me.”
He hated that she thought this about herself—even though everything she had encountered about their world so far had given her reason to doubt herself. Anthony wished he could protect her from it all. The prejudices, the expectations, the rumours, and judgement.
It would destroy his mother if Marianne became more miserable after her rescue than before they had ever met her. And he would feel like he failed her too, even though, realistically, he knew that he shouldn’t have any feelings about Lady Marianne Chambers at all.
But he did feel …things. He could not organize those things into any sense in his mind. Aside from Eliana, he had never been friends with a woman. And unlike Eliana, Marianne made every moment in her company so much better than it would have been without her, not worse.
It was only natural, he thought, to have a female friend and want the best for her, to feel protective of her—like one would any woman, whether she was a sister, a mother, or even a wife.
And the other things that didn’t fit into that paradigm … Well, that was his problem, not hers. There was bound to be some confusion—some thoughts and feelings that could not make sense under circumstances which by no stretch of the imagination would have been considered normal.
Yet even after all that rumination, Anthony still found himself whispering helplessly.
“I’m not laughing.”
