Page 23 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“You did! They all saw you. Even I saw you. It’s a disgrace! It must not happen again. The Duke of Willowick might be a duke, but that is all. He is badly thought of, and his reputation will disgrace us. You must be careful,” he concluded, gazing at her as though trying to convince her with his stare alone.
“The Duke of Willowick?” Anastasia gaped at him. The man was kind and friendly. He was not miserable, nor any of the things that her father suggested. And scandalous she could barely imagine him to be. He had scars, that was for certain, but if society was shunning people simply because of a few marks on their faces, then she was sure she would rather have no part in it. “He is...”
“I don’t wish to know!” her father interrupted. “You will not dance with him. The scandal sheets are full of it. It’s hard for our family.”
Anastasia felt her heart twist. She gazed up at him and her mother gazed back.
“You did not mean it,” she said gently. “Just be careful, dear. This man is not someone safe for us.”
“But Mama...” Anastasia began. Her mother was not like that. Her mother never judged any person by their outer features, and she cared not a jot, usually, for what she called the wanton cruelty of society’s scandal-spreaders.
“I have spoken!” her father said pompously. “And that should be sufficient. Now, you need to prepare for this afternoon,” he added, his tone softening somewhat.
“Why?” Anastasia asked.
“Why! Because the viscount, Lord Ridley, has expressed a wish to call on you. He will escort you to Hyde Park to take a stroll at four o’ clock.”
“At four?” Anastasia blinked. She was sure it must be past three already. She had likely just half an hour to prepare. And besides, at four o’ clock, the park would be full of people, those going to the tea-shops or those coming from their meetings or appointments. Everyone would see them. The whole of London would be gossiping about that.
“Yes. I am sure you wish to dress appropriately.”
Anastasia looked at her mother, who looked back at her, her expression sad. Anastasia gaped at her father. He had not mentioned a word of the invitation, which she was sure wasissued the previous evening at the ball. He had kept it from her, perhaps knowing that, had she known, she would have found a way to get out of it. Lord Ridley repelled her.
“I will come with you, dear,” Mama said gently. Beside her, Papa was standing; a slight indulgent look on his wide face as though he was proud of what he had accomplished. He had clearly been involved in encouraging Lord Ridley to call and she shot him a look of pure disbelief before her mother came and led her upstairs.
“Your father has high hopes in Lord Ridley. He sees him as an asset,” Mama murmured as they reached her bedchamber. “Not only is he involved in plenty of investments with your father, but he is also very wealthy, if rumour is to be believed. Your father sees him as an advantageous match,” Mama explained.
“Him?” Anastasia said in a small, high-pitched voice. “But he’s horrid. He can’t dance and he has no manners—he either gawps at me or ignores me. And, as far as advantages go, he’s a viscount, Mama.” She gazed at her mother and wished she could somehow make her understand. The Duke of Willowick might be scarred, but Papa could not complain about his social standing—he was a duke. He was much higher in the ranks of the peerage than Lord Ridley, so why did Papa not see the advantages there?
“Lord Ridley is wealthy,” her mother explained, as though that was the most important thing about him. “And your father has invested with him in several important enterprises.”
Anastasia just looked at her mother. This was not like her at all. Her mother looked at the floor, her own soft brown eyes sad.
“I want you to have a comfortable life, my dear,” her mother commented as Anastasia drew breath to protest. “One filled with good things.”
“But Lord Ridley...” Anastasia began. She let out a sigh. “I will accompany him to the park,” she assured her mother, who seemed instantly relieved, her chin lifting and her eyes shining. “But I cannot do more. I cannot even speak to him.”
“I know,” her mother assured her. “I do not know if I can tell your father, though. He is...much taken with him. He is a major investor in the ventures your father supports.”
Anastasia drew a breath. She knew her father well enough to know that such a recommendation was all somebody needed. Money was very important in his world.
“He may well be,” Anastasia agreed. “But he is...not pleasant.” She swallowed hard. She did not want to share her real opinion—which was that he was repellent and horrid.
Her mother nodded. “I know, my dear,” she agreed gently. “I will try, but...”
“I know, Mama,” Anastasia said gently. “And I will try to do as Papa wishes, but...”
“You shall exert your utmost, dear heart, and I shall do the same; however, I cannot pledge that success shall be our reward.”
Anastasia sighed and went to summon her maid, Rachel. She glanced over at her wardrobe before her maid arrived.
“The green dress, please.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Rachel answered.
Anastasia went behind the screen to change into the dress, standing for Rachel to fasten up the buttons behind her. The high collar of the dress reached her neck, the long skirt falling from a fashionably high waist to her ankles. The sleeves were long, despite the heat and the fabric heavy. The dress was the most formal, least revealing one she owned. It was the only thing that would let her feel comfortable in proximity with Lord Ridley in the coach.
I don’t know what is worse,she mused as she combed her long hair.His stare or his indifference.
