Page 43 of Destined to be a Duchess
“Not when I arrived. You are lucky I was the one to discover you and not someone else. We have just come back from the hunting.” Anthony shook his head, tutting. “And I fear Foxburn is not the only one in need of a rest.” He turned to leave, then stopped, piquing Marianne’s anxiety. “What were the two of you discussing?”
“Nothing that warrants that sort of tone from you, Your Grace.” Marianne scowled, failing to understand why Anthony was so upset with her. “He relayed that your mother acquired all the documents necessary for my legitimization before the courts. Lord Hindborough invited him separately. But two birds, one stone …” She placed a hand on her hip. “I thought you would be happy. Gideon’s presence here will only improve my chances ofbeing taken seriously by everyone else. Was that not the point of our coming?”
Anthony let out a long breath. “I am happy. It’s not your fault. The hunting was taxing in more ways than one …” He leaned back, knocking his head against the doorframe. “Be careful, Marianne. That’s all I ask.”
“You keep warning me about things, but I’ve yet to encounter any real danger.” She tried to smile reassuringly. “At the very least, I have encountered nothing I cannot handle.”
“It’s your new unflagging confidence that worries me the most.”
“Youtoldme to be confident,” Marianne reminded him.
“Yes, but you needn’t flip from one extreme to the other.” Anthony’s gaze softened, and Marianne melted in response, forgetting her anger. “You must be on your guard, even around Gideon. You are about as likely to form real friendships in thetonas you are to sprout wings and fly away—even with your blood relatives.”
“Stranger things have happened.” She smiled, but Anthony was implacable. Marianne narrowed her gaze. “What exactly happened in the woods?”
He laughed miserably. “Nothing you need concern yourself with. Now go,” he waved her out, “before someone catches us the way I caught you and Foxburn and starts to get the wrong idea.”
Chapter 17
Marianne tapped her fingers against her lips, looking at the two gowns Miss Barclay had set out for her that evening. There were only two nights left of the Hindborough hunting party, and despite Anthony’s warnings to keep a low profile, Marianne wanted the guests to remember her well.
“I think purple better suits the occasion,” Marianne said over her shoulder while Miss Barclay prepared the toilette table for them. “It was always my mother’s favourite colour, and I know the duchess prefers purple too.”
She joined Miss Barclay, leaning on the chair before the vanity table. Miss Barclay had laid out a selection of jewellery for the evening. Marianne thumbed a string of pearls, wondering whether her mother would have been proud or horrified to see her draped in so much finery so quickly.
“But my hair should be styled simply,” Marianne added, taking her seat. “I don’t want the others to think I’m getting too high in the instep. I’ve already been criticized once today for myunflaggingconfidence.”
Miss Barclay nodded, beginning her work on Marianne’s hair. She brushed through the ends, detangling her natural waves until they fell in soft sheets down her shoulders. Her fingers ranthrough the hair above Marianne’s ears, drawing the front of her hair back into the start of a chignon.
“You will only need to capture the attention of one gentleman tonight,” Miss Barclay said, grabbing a hairpin and holding it between her teeth. “Lord Foxburn’s arrival was a welcome turn of events.”
“I’m not sure the earl feels that way. He is merely fulfilling his duty to me.” Marianne shrugged, reaching for a jewelled hairpin and playing with the gems. “But I’m glad, nonetheless. It feels like we’re actually making some progress.”
“My Lady, I think you underestimate the progress you have been making already.” Miss Barclay shoved the pin into Marianne’s hair and reached for another. Her styling was painless, effortless. “You have made a number of acquaintances—both of the feminine and male varieties. And I have heard none of the other maids speak ill of you. For a fact, I believe that your mere existence has instilled a great many of them with hope.”
“I have done nothing to deserve their praise,” Marianne argued, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s not like I earned this rise in station. I just happened to be born to the right aristocratic rebel.”
Miss Barclay looked unconvinced in the looking glass. Her face was gently alight by the flame of the candles. The lady’s maid always looked put together, but that evening, her ringlets werecrisper, and she seemed to be wearing rouge on her cheeks and lips. Marianne wondered what had caused the change.
“Say what you will, but you have done Her Grace proud.” Miss Barclay rarely displayed emotion, but the ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “I have a feeling there will be even more to celebrate once the house party is over. Lord Foxburn’s arrival could spell more than just the beginning of an acquaintance for you.”
A familiar, uneasy feeling stirred in Marianne’s gut. Were all thetonand their attendants so obsessed with marriage? Marianne supposed she had done a great deal of thinking about potential matches herself and quickly corrected her hypocrisy.
“He would be wrong to try for anything more,” she argued, setting the pin down so she could focus on her breathing. “We barely know each other. And I don’t relish the thought of marrying a man to whom I’m already related. I want to build more connections, not just intensify the ones I have.”
“The earl will not hold the same scruples about you, I’m afraid. In his eyes, I’m sure a marriage between you would tie up your affairs nicely rather than creating more contestants for the Foxburn title by having you marry elsewhere.” Miss Barclay’s words were doing little to alleviate Marianne’s nausea. “And if hewereto propose—”
“Heavens, Miss Barclay!” Marianne jolted forward, accidentally ripping the woman’s hands out of her hair. The chignon came undone around her neck. “I don’t think we need to be worried about a proposal just yet. We have only met twice, and I haven’t exactly encouraged marital feelings in him. Quite the opposite.”
“Marital feelings aside, that is more than enough time to assess your looks and character. I am merely trying to prepare you for the eventuality that Lord Foxburn will look to find a wife in you. Did his sister not imply as much when you first met? Did you not say as much to me?”
Marianne cursed herself for being so open with Frida during their nightly routine. She shook her head regardless, retrieving the pin hanging out of her hair and handing it to Miss Barclay.
“Well, then, I suppose I must make haste to attract the attention of another.” She chewed the inside of her mouth, thinking. “Forget the simple chignon for tonight. I need to go out with a bang.”
Miss Barclay was nothing if not an amenable servant. Within a matter of fifteen minutes, she had equipped Marianne with a hairstyle and outfit that would knock even her most outspoken critics off their feet.
She gave a small twirl in the looking glass, testing the durability of her hairstyle. Marianne intended to dance—and dance a lot—to avoid giving Gideon the wrong impression. As forwhomshe would be dancing with, she hoped the duke could spare her one turn about the room at least.
