Page 48 of Destined to be a Duchess
Eliana raised her brows in apathy. “I have much better things to do than track every painting my father buys. To answer your question, no. I have no idea about any purchases from the Colline estate, Velasquez in nature or otherwise.” Her slippers clicked against the ground as she proceeded to the door.
“But if I were you, I would not abuse our hospitality any more than you have. I am still my father’s daughter. If you try tocross him, I will not hesitate to retaliate. You would do well to remember that, Anthony.”
As if he could forget.
*
Marianne clutched her arms as she looked out over the gardens. The dancing that evening had ended two hours ago, and the last guests had filtered inside from the terrace half an hour prior. Miss Barclay had come and gone, preparing Marianne for bed. If she had noticed anything strange about her, she had been kind enough not to say anything.
She raised a hand to her cheek, touching herself where Anthony had cupped her face. He had left her in the gallery, and after recovering from a fit of panic, Marianne had returned to the ballroom expecting to find Eliana and her father waiting for her at the pillory.
But no one had said anything about her disappearance with Anthony. Patrick had found her and taken her to watch the dancing with some of his new friends. And then Marianne had feigned a migraine right as the party had started to die down.
Whatever Anthony had done—wherever he had gone—he had stopped Eliana from reporting the scandal to the others. Marianne knew better than to be pleased.
Because he has obviously made a deal with the Devil.
She stepped away from the window. If Anthony had gone for a walk, the chances of him passing beneath her room were slim. She drew back the coverlets of her bed, knowing she would not sleep that night, then leaned down to extinguish her candle anyway.
A gust of breath swelled in her lungs and stayed there. The flame remained lit, flickering as she stood upright at the sound of a knock on the door.
The doorknob was icy against her skin as she pried it open.
“May I come in?” Anthony asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Marianne pushed the door open further, checking the hallway. “You can’t come in,” she whispered. “If someone saw us …”
“Again, you mean?” Anthony shook his head. “They are all gone to bed. I have to speak with you, and it should not wait. But I will not force you—”
She grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside. Closing the door carefully, she clicked the lock into place. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Anthony at first, unsure what she was supposedto feel. Angry, upset, abandoned … Those were all perfectly reasonable reactions. Yet Marianne was only relieved.
Relieved and then embarrassed as she looked down at her state of dress. Her thin cotton chemise bunched around her chest as she crossed her arms over herself, pressing into the door. Anthony was still wearing his clothes from that evening, looking haggard and upset. He turned in a circle, scrubbing his face with his hands. Marianne used the opportunity to grab her nightgown, wrapping it around herself.
“Should I offer you tea?” she joked—because what else was she supposed to do? “Isn’t that what women do with gentlemen callers?”
Anthony smiled. It looked like it hurt. “Oh, Marianne,” he groaned, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “How can you joke with me at a time like this? You should be outraged that I …” He let the sentence trail off.
“Well, I’ve never been particularly good at doing what you’ve told me,” she said, wanting to join him on the bed but fearing his reaction. “And I think it is my choice regardless to decide how I should feel about what happened. I am angry,” she confessed, tears smarting behind her eyes. “You left me, and I didn’t know where you went.”
“I will regret that moment for as long as I live,” Anthony said, hanging his head in shame. He scowled and shrugged off hisjacket, laying it next to him. “But I had to ensure that Eliana did not go directly to her father. By the time I had rejoined the party, you had gone. It was not until now that I felt it was safe enough to come and see you. And I did want to see you. Most desperately …”
Marianne took a step back, her heart fluttering. She could hear the desperation in his voice, could see it, as he rose from the bed and crossed the room in one quick movement, stopping in front of her. Marianne had been so busy trying to manage her fear that she hadn’t stopped to consider the implications of their interrupted encounter. What madness had overtaken Anthony for him to try to kiss her?
He was as far from a rake as one could be. He was a gentle and rational man, and if Marianne had unwittingly convinced him to abandon his morals in that moment of folly, potentially dooming them both, she would never forgive herself ...
Even though she had wanted to be kissed by him more than she wanted to live.
The other alternative—the only other alternative—was not worth her consideration. Because while Marianne had been deathly afraid of his kiss, she was more afraid that Anthony might have genuinely come to care for her—and that just as quickly as he had revealed his feelings, Eliana had come in to take them all away.
So yes, it was better,safer, for Marianne to accept the likely truth that she had not inspired love in the duke, only lust. That their friendship had gone too far, the lines blurred between them because of their familiarity with one another.
“You’ve maddened me,” Anthony whispered, confirming her suspicions yet making her heart ache all the same. “From the moment I met you, I have not acted in a manner befitting our circumstances. I have found myself, in fact, acting out of a place of selfish pleasure, for there is nothing about you that I do not like and no moment of the day that is not improved for your being in it. I forget myself with you.
Not only in that I forget my good sense, but I forget who I am and all that worries me—and I like that too. And then when we spoke of my painting and home, I thought that, yes, it had become your home too ... Oh, Marianne. I hardly know what I am saying. I should not burden you with these thoughts. I have tried not to, I swear.”
He pressed his eyes shut, hanging his head. Marianne’s hand twitched at her side, her body begging for permission to console him. If she confused him as much as he seemed to imply, she needed to be strong enough for them both.
Marianne sighed. “It is my fault—”
