Page 58 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“A friend? Giles, what?” Sidney’s brow was lowered in a tight frown that made his head hurt. His entire body hurt, if he thought about it. Hunger made his temples throb, and his feetfelt like they were carved from stone.
“Hurry, Sidney,” Giles said swiftly. “You ought to change first.”
“Giles?” Sidney frowned at him. “Why are you helping me?” He hadn’t thought Giles had heard a word he said that night when they had sat in the billiard room and talked to one another. He had clapped him on the back when he was sobbing, and he had asked if he could help. Sidney had thought he had forgotten all that—Giles had seemed too drunk to remember any of it.
“I might be many things, cousin,” Giles said, and his hazel eyes were level and clear and the eyes of his best friend. “But I am your steadfast friend. I hold you in the highest regard, akin to a brother. You must take your leave at once, before the vicar arrives.”
Sidney nodded and ran to his room. He had an hour to change his clothing and get across town, and he was tired and hungry, and his head throbbed so much he could barely see. But hope was lending wings to him, and he ran to his room, rushing before it was too late.
Chapter 22
“You look so beautiful, sister.” Lily’s voice was quiet with awe. “Just like a princess.”
Anastasia felt her heart twist. She gazed into Lily’s hazel eyes, her heart so full of love that it ached in her chest. Soon, she would be at Ridley Estate and she would likely not see Lily often. Ridley was not far from London, just a few hours by coach, but something in her told her that Lord Ridley would not take kindly to visitors.
“Thank you, sweet Lily,” she murmured. “You are the dearest, dearest sister.” Her eyes were wet with tears. She looked at the ceiling. Her face was white with fear, and she knew that the tracks of tears down it would spoil her appearance. At the very least, she wanted to be proud of how she looked. She gazed at the looking glass critically. Lily’s words lifted her heart, making her see herself, for a moment, as she did.
The long white dress was silk, the sleeves translucent puffs of fabric. The neckline was oval and low, and the dress fell from the fashionably high waist to below her ankles. Her hair was arranged in a low chignon, the ringlets she usually wore at the front tighter than usual, hanging in formal rows. The silky fabric of the dress, gauze-covered, shimmered as she moved. It was a beautiful dress, and her face, above, was a solemn, long oval, her high cheekbones and slight features not as obvious as her wide,sorrowful eyes.
“I must fetch something,” Lily said, running to the door.
“You look beautiful,” Anastasia called to her as she paused in the doorway. Lily wore a white dress of finest muslin, decorated with a pattern of roses in pink. Her long hair was ringleted. She looked gentle and pretty. Anastasia’s heart ached so much that she was sure she could feel no more sadness. She would miss Lily.
“Thank you, sister!” Lily called back. She did not look as sad as Anastasia had thought she would. She was grateful. She did not want Lily to be sad for any reason at all. Lily understood to some extent the horror of what Anastasia faced, and Anastasia was glad she did not understand it entirely.
She gazed at the looking glass. Rachel had done her hair silently, knowing how desperately Anastasia longed to run. She had said nothing, other than to compliment how she looked, and then she had gone out of the room. Anastasia felt her heart twist. She would miss her too—terribly much.
“Here we are.” Lily returned, carrying a bouquet of pink and white roses. “They’re from the garden, mostly. I had to pick them.” Lily passed the bouquet to her, which was tied with a pink hair ribbon. Anastasia blinked, knowing she would cry and not caring if it showed. The gesture moved her more than anything else could ever have done. She lifted the bouquet, the beauty of the roses matching the sisterly love that they symbolized.
“I will keep it always.”
“It will dry out,” Lily protested.
Anastasia chuckled. Only her sister could bring a smile to her face in such a situation. “Then I will put it in a big, big book and press it, so that I have it always. It means the world to me.”
“You have such a big book?” Lily looked unsure.
Anastasia laughed. “I will find one,” she promised. She clutched the roses, knowing that she truly would keep them forever, even if she had to find some other way to press them. They were precious.
Lily just gazed at her and Anastasia cleared her throat. She would cry more if she remained in the room with Lily and so she tried to sound happier. “Shall we find out where Mama is hiding?” she asked.
“No need,” Lily said. “She’s in the room next door. Shall I call her?”
Anastasia was about to say that Lily need not trouble herself, that she would go out and down the stairs to wait for the vicar, but Mama appeared in the doorway. Her face was red, and she wore a blue dress. She walked to Anastasia and hugged her, crushing her to her chest.
“Daughter. I am going to miss you so much.”
Anastasia shut her eyes, knowing that she was going to cry and cry. She tensed, trying to fight the tears as she smelled the familiar scent of her mother—floral perfume. She clung to her and fought her tears and wished that she could stay in thebedchamber with those two forever.
“The vicar is here, sweetling,” her mother told her. “His cart just rolled up now.”
Anastasia took a deep breath. She looked at Lily, whose big hazel eyes were confused rather than sad.
“Let us go,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “It shall be interesting—I've never seen a wedding.”
“Me, too.” Lily sounded interested. Anastasia’s heart lifted. She wanted Lily not to suffer. She did not want her to think marriage was tragic and about sorrow and pain. Lily deserved better. And if she already believed the worst, she would not look for anything more.
She walked forward, going into the hallway and down the stairs. Lily hurried after her. Mama walked at a steady pace. Anastasia drew a breath, her heart thudding.
