Page 28 of Destined to be a Duchess
He smiled at his mother, and she walked past Marianne to take one of her son’s hands. Marianne stepped away, not wanting to encroach on their private goodbyes. She sidled up beside Patrick, clearing her throat to get his attention.
“Oh, you’re here,” he said, blinking as he turned his gaze from Miss Barclay. “I was making sure no one mishandled my luggage.”
“I have no doubt you were,” Marianne replied with a grin. “Are you excited?”
“Any more excitement just might kill me,” Patrick said sarcastically. He glanced over Marianne’s head. “Where did you find Anthony?”
“He was in his study.” Marianne wanted to leave her answer at that, but she blushed at the memory of their conversation. “We were just tying up matters before we leave.”
“Hm …” Patrick narrowed his eyes at her. “You know,” his voice lilted, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen our duke take to a person as quickly as he has taken to you. There were plenty of friendships to be made on the Continent, but for the most part, the man kept to himself. He trusts you. More importantly, he seems genuinely to enjoy spending time in your company. You’ve become fast friends.”
“Are you feeling a little jealous?” Marianne laughed nervously, trying not to give Patrick’s words too much weight in her mind. “I think you’re still his favourite between us.”
“I would not be so sure.” Patrick looked over at Anthony, and his mouth twisted in thought. “I’m only saying this to make sure that you don’t feel like he was feigning his approval of you when we arrive at Hagram Park. This is your first real social outing—but it is also Anthony’s first appointment since returning to the country. There are new connections that he must make, old friendships he must reignite …”
Lady Eliana’s name rang in Marianne’s ears.
“If you do not see much of him, try not to take it personally,” Patrick concluded. The servants began marching away from the carriage, and Patrick walked Marianne towards it. “Anthony has been eschewing his duties here at Moorhaven Manor. At Hagram Park, he will need to prioritize being a duke over being our friend …”
Chapter 12
To Anthony’s surprise, most things in England had remained the same in his time away. Norfolk was still as flat as ever. Their King’s health was still hanging on by a thread—despite what the royalist newspapers printed. To the upset of his Whig friends, the Earl of Liverpool had remained their prime minister. In fact, it seemed like the onlyrealchange had been the death of his father.
Hagram Park, for instance, was exactly as he remembered it. The building wasn’t quite as large as Moorhaven Manor, but it still eclipsed most properties with its beauty and size. It had been built earlier than Anthony’s home, looking more like an undersized fortress than a stately house. Above the stone parapets, a flag of England rose over the estate, billowing in the wind. The Hindborough’s crest flew on its own flag just below it.
It didn’t feel like a homecoming. But it felt … close.
Anthony’s vehicle was not the first to arrive. They parked at the end of a parade of coaches and waited their turn before driving to the doors. It was around noon by then, and the sun was high in the sky. Anthony wondered whether the heat had got to Marianne in the carriage. She had been quiet for most of the journey and looked nauseous now that they were ready to meet their hosts.
“You will be perfectly fine,” Anthony said as encouragement when the footman came around to open their doors. “If you feel out of your depth, you need only tell me. We are in this together—all three of us.”
Neither Patrick nor Marianne looked like they believed him.
It was much cooler indoors when they were finally let within. Anthony watched Marianne carefully as they were led inside by the Hindborough butler. Their luggage was carried in by a complement of liveried footmen sporting the Hindborough maroon.
The marquess had obviously spared no expense for the hunting party that year. The entrance hall was spotless, reminding Anthony of the Scottish keeps he had visited on his Grand Tour of England. It possessed flagstone floors, dark wooden accents, rich tapestries that hung from the walls … As a child, Anthony had spent no small amount of time shadowing his father and Warren throughout its lofty halls.
Yet Warren Webb, despite his best efforts at appearing as impressive in body as he was in spirit, didn’t have the build to be a Scottish laird. He appeared at the top of the grand stone staircase, talking to the guests who had arrived just before Anthony’s group.
They disappeared out of sight, and Warren looked down into the entrance hall. His thin, greying brown hair was oiled back in its usual style. His face, while still round and youthful despite his middle age, was peppered with age spots and freckles from his many travels.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” Warren cried. His voice echoed in the room, going right through to Anthony’s bones. “Our very own Duke of Westden, come with so many friends.”
Warren took his time descending the staircase, giving Anthony just enough time to conduct a final check on Marianne. Her hands were folded in front of her as she stood demurely. The colour had returned to her face. At the base of the stairs, Warren bowed for Anthony—which was highly unnecessary—and greeted both Marianne and Patrick with a nod.
“You’ve certainly lost your tan,” Warren joked, clapping Anthony on the shoulder. He looked at Patrick. “You both look healthy, boys. I’m glad. Especially given the circumstances …” His happy expression faltered a moment. “But we should count our blessings and not be so dour so soon. You are here, my son, finally returned to us.”
It had not been unusual for Warren to call Anthony that in the past.Hisson. It unsettled him now that his father was gone. He made a note to correct Warren about it later, turning to the matters at hand instead.
“Allow me to introduce Warren Webb, the Marquess of Hindborough,” Anthony said, then he gestured towards Patrick. “You will remember Mr Bowers from our time in Italy.” Now he turned to Marianne, feeling suddenly nervous. He wanted this to go well for her. “And finally, I have the pleasure of being one of the first gentlemen to introduce our newest friend. This is Lady Marianne Chambers, the granddaughter of the late Earl of Foxburn.”
Warren looked nonplussed. Catherine had briefed him about Marianne’s attendance in a letter. His mother’s honeyed words seemed to have worked their magic—for now.
“Of course, I remember Mr Bowers,” Warren said in order of the introduction, smiling. He stepped forward to greet Marianne, taking her hand as she performed a curtsy. “Now, you are a pleasant surprise, Lady Marianne. The Duchess of Westden informed me of your recent arrival in Norwich.
My daughter has spoken of nothing but you since we received confirmation that you would be attending. She will be beside herself with joy to see that you have come. The granddaughter of old John Chambers. Yes, what a surprise you are indeed …”
Marianne smiled timidly, obviously struggling to find something to say. Anthony couldn’t help intervening at the sight of her unease.
