Page 50 of Destined to be a Duchess
“Good night, Marianne,” he replied.
The door clicked into place, and Marianne dashed towards it. No sound came from the hallway, and she hoped Anthony had gone unremarked. She pushed back from the door, steadying her breathing. Her mind filled with Anthony’s confession. He had genuinelywantedto kiss her, and like her, his passions had got the better of him. There was no telling what their mistake was going to cost them.
But at least,she thought,we will weather the coming storm side by side.
Tiptoeing back to her bed, Marianne untied her robe and cast it over the vanity table. A rushing sound made her jolt. She turned towards the door, squinting against the darkness.
At the base of the door was a leaf of paper.
Marianne picked it up, taking it for examination by the candlelight of her bedside. Her own face stared back at her, sketched in stunning detail. She gasped at the sight of Anthony’s work—the sketch from the lake.
“Is this how he sees me ...?” she whispered, running her fingers over the lines of his drawing. “But I’m so ... I look so lovely ...”
Marianne’s eyes welled with tears. Anthony had depicted her true to nature, but everything about the sketch screamed of his admiration for her. The playfulness of her expression; the effortless femininity of the way she posed; the slope of her nose and the way her lips gently parted; the lines of her gown, pooling at the bottom of the boat ...
She retraced his labour, exploring the shadows, the highlights, the details that only someone who genuinely knew and appreciated her would have included ...
Suddenly, the tragedy of their situation dawned on Marianne at last. Whatever existed between them was more than friendship,more than madness. And because of their own recklessness, nothing more than an attempted kiss would ever come to pass.
Chapter 19
To Anthony’s relief, the end of the Hindborough hunting party concluded without further incident. The first guests took their leave the following morning, forcing Warren and Eliana to oversee the departures and stay out of Anthony’s hair. There were, of course, a few dismal glances from Eliana over dinner that evening, but the two of them kept their distances—just like Anthony kept his distance from Marianne.
After their discussion in her room, Anthony had thought it wisest not to add fuel to the fire of Eliana’s anger by being seen with her in public. He had said his piece, had saidmore, he hoped, by slipping the sketch of Marianne under her door.
Dreams of her had plagued the night—kisses brought to fruition, trips to her bedroom that had not merely ended in the hatching of battle plans. But he did not see Marianne again in earnest until the hour of their departure from Hagram Park.
Anthony stood in the courtyard, overseeing the footmen as they loaded their combined luggage into the Westden carriage. The miserable sky cast a gray light on the proceedings. Autumntime was just around the corner, and with it came a welcome reprieve from summer socializing. If Anthony did not see the Webbs again for some time, no one would suspect something had gone awry between their two families.
But he was not naive enough to think he could avoid themforever. One way or another, something had to be done about Eliana and her threats, hanging over him and Marianne like the Sword of Damocles, ready to drop at a moment’s notice.
A hand clapped on his shoulder, tearing him from his thoughts. He straightened as Warren sidled up beside him. The marquess nodded towards the carriage.
“You have been a most gracious guest, Anthony. So accommodating, like your father. I had hoped we would spend longer together, but the hosting duties kept us apart more than I had anticipated.” He smiled, and Anthony forced a pleasant expression of his own. “Well, there will be plenty more time for just you and I before winter. And I do hope you will not make a stranger of yourself to Hagram Park. My home is yours.”
Anthony was not about to reciprocate the offer. The Velasquez painting was still heavy on his mind. He examined Warren’s stance, wondering whether he could see the deception in his face. Nothing about the marquess betrayed his lie. But Anthony knew what he had seen in the gallery.
“I shall return to Hagram Park before long, make no mistake,” Anthony replied.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. You will have to excuse Eliana this morning,” Warren said, releasing Anthony and turning towards the upper story of the manor.
“She came down with a migraine, and I sent her upstairs again. She sends both you and Lady Marianne her warmest regards. And, erm ...” Warren tilted his head, dropping his voice. “Have a think about what we discussed in the woods. I think things will be much clearer by the next time we meet.”
“Oh, I have no doubt they will be.” Anthony smiled—genuinely this time. “Take care until next we meet, Warren.”
And enjoy your peace while it lasts.
*
A heavy assault of rain covered the Norfolk countryside by the time the carriage pulled up Moorhaven Manor gates. Having asked to be parked as close to the house as possible, Anthony swept off his jacket and held it over his head as the carriage door swung open.
Calling Marianne to his side, he guided her into the house under the cover of his coat. He felt like a schoolboy standing next to her, grinning at every smile she gave him, despite what hadhappened between them. Patrick followed suit, running indoors and slipping to a stop in the entrance hall.
“It’s so good to be home,” Marianne said through a laugh, separating from Anthony and leaving him grief-stricken. She wiped the rain from her brow with her sleeve, looking around. “I hadn’t realized until we approached the house how much I had missed being here.”
“Far from the tyranny of the Webbs, that’s for certain,” Patrick got in, shaking his hair like a dog coming in from a walk. “I shall count my blessings if I am never forced into their company again.”
“What did the marquess do toyouto make you despise him so much?” Marianne asked, side-eyeing Anthony.
