Page 49 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“Her mother certainly did not know. She would have told me. She would not have agreed to have you there this evening was that not the case.”
“She agreed...?” Sidney stared at her, round-eyed.
“Yes.” His mother smiled. “Did you not know? She wished you to be there.”
“No!” Sidney raised a brow in disbelief.
“Yes,” his mother replied, grinning.
“But why would she...when...when...” Sidney trailed off.
“I do not know, son. Perhaps you heard a rumour only.”
Sidney shook his head. “But people do not lie about themselves.”
“He told you?” His mother gaped in shock.
“Not directly,” Sidney demurred. He felt exhausted, and it was not because of the lateness of the hour. The hurt and shock drained his vitality.
“Good. I cannot imagine that creature approaching you directly.” His mother was stiff with anger.
He smiled. “I am glad to say he did not. If he had, I might be in a duel right now.” He shrugged.
“Sidney!” his mother looked upset. He let out a sigh.
“Sorry, Mama.”
His mother gazed at him sorrowfully. “I wish there was aught that I could do to help you,” she said gently. Her green eyes matched the sorrow that he felt. Sidney held her hand.
“You cannot, Mama. Nobody can.”
“But it’s so sudden,” Mama replied, a frown creasing her brow. “I am certain Lady Graystone knew nothing.”
Sidney tensed. “Her father hates me—perhaps rightly, perhaps not—and he would do anything to keep me away. Even marry Lady Anastasia to that...that...” he let out his breath sharply.
“I do not believe that he hates you,” his mother said carefully.
“He certainly acts like he does.”
His mother shook her head, a sad expression on her face. Sidney did not know what to say. He did not want to upset her. He went to her and took her hands, and she squeezed his fingers tightly. Her gaze was gentle as she looked into his eyes.
“I am sorry, my son,” she said softly. “I am most upset.”
“Please don’t be,” Sidney said gently. He did not want to cause her pain. He took a deep breath. “It is bad enough that I am.”
She nodded.
“Yes,” she said gently. “That is so.”
He squeezed her fingers again and then turned to the door, ready to go to his room to rest.
He undressed hastily and rinsed his face and mouth at the bowl on the nightstand, then slipped into bed. He lay down, but all that played through his mind was images of Lady Anastasia. He rolled over, trying to push them away, but he could not manage to do so. He drew the covers close, feeling tormented and desperate for the morning so he might do something—whatever he could think of—to relieve the situation in which he found himself. He could not do less.
Chapter 18
“It is not true.”
Anastasia said the words aloud, the silence around her echoing, seeming to defy the very notion. She gazed around the empty drawing room. The fire crackled in the grate, banishing the slight chill of the spring morning. The chintz-covered chairs were lit by the cloudy light that came through the windows. The long velvet curtains were open on the balcony, but she barely noticed the scene. Her mind was numbed by horror.
