Page 31 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“He is very odd to look at,” Camilla countered.
“He isn’t,” Anastasia said a little crossly. “He bears scars, as I have mentioned. Yet, he is not unpleasing to the eye. His countenance is...rather captivating. Moreover, he is engaging, amusing, and possesses a delightful conversation.”
“Oh?” Camilla blinked at her.
“He is. He can talk about all sorts of things. Music, art, plants and gardens...” she trailed off, thinking of all the topics they had discussed in what must have been a fairly brief conversation. Talking to him was like opening a box of assorted chocolates—there were so many delights that one did not know where to start.
“Oh, Anastasia!” Camilla exclaimed with a radiant smile. “You are such a fanciful creature. If only we all indulged in our reveries as much as you do.”
Anastasia smiled. “I’m not sure that would be helpful.”
Camilla chuckled.
“Had you described your outfit for the ball?” Anastasia asked, returning to their previous conversation. Before she became distracted, Camilla had been doing so.
“I did!” Camilla laughed. “I described the whole thing. But Iwould be happy to do so again, should you wish to hear of it?” her gaze sparkled with the teasing note in her tone.
“I do,” Anastasia replied. Her cheeks felt warm. She had not meant to defend the Duke of Willowick so hotly—anyone listening would think she was falling for him. She frowned.
Am I?
The thought cannoned into her, distracting her from Camilla. She had to focus hard to bring her attention back to the description of the ball-gown so that she would not miss it a second time.
As she focused on Camilla’s description of a gauze overskirt and white silk, she heard a commotion in the hallway and her gaze moved instantly to the door.
“My lord! I...” The butler, Mr. Shipley, was shouting.
“I will go where I please!” a pompous voice interrupted him. Anastasia stiffened.
She recognized the voice seconds before the man who owned it appeared, so she had a moment to tense nervously before Lord Ridley strode into the room. His pale blue gaze moved across the furnishings and focused on her.
“Lady Anastasia,” he said formally. He inclined the merest bow. He did not look at Camilla, nor greet her, and Anastasia bristled at the rudeness. “I came to invite you to Gunter’s Tea Shop with me.”
“You did?” Anastasia stammered. She had danced with him once and endured his presence in Hyde Park. And now he felt he could walk unannounced into the drawing room and demand that she went to tea?
“When?” she asked.
“Now, if you please,” Lord Ridley said tightly. He sounded as though she should have known that.
“Now!” Anastasia blinked at him. “But my lord! I have a guest. I cannot simply stride off.”
“Yes, you can,” he said lightly. “I have your father’s permission to ask you,” he added, sounding self-important. “And you must remember that he and I have conversed privately about this matter.”
“This matter?” Anastasia gaped at him. She assumed he meant the matter of her attending tea at Gunter’s, but were that the case, he could have said it directly.
“The matter I discussed with him,” the viscount replied.
Anastasia gripped Camilla’s hand where she sat across the low table. Camilla gazed at her.
“You do not have to...” Camilla began, but before she could speak, Anastasia’s father appeared in the doorway.
“Daughter!” He beamed at her. “If you wish to change your clothing before attending tea, I will entertain the viscount while he waits.”
“Papa?” Anastasia stared at him. He knew perfectly well that Camilla was there—he had spoken to her not half an hour ago, when she had arrived. And yet he expected her to depart posthaste, without so much as a word of farewell.
“If you wish to change into a different gown,” her father said patiently. “I will wait here with the viscount.”
“I know,” Anastasia replied. “But Papa! I cannot just hurry off. What of my friend?”
