A FAke Courtship with The Duke
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Prologue
Anne Huxley nervously clutched a flute of champagne, nursing it gently to make it last as long as possible to prevent the need to fetch another and risk drawing attention to herself. The grand ballroom of her family’s estate was alive with cheery music, graceful dancers, and animated conversations all around her. The crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the glossy wood floor, making the purple line patterns arranged on the dance floor in such a way as to help guide the dancers shimmer like thin, regal pools.
The pale lavender walls of the ballroom added to the sense of royalty to the room, and the pink swags that curved between the pillars that separated the musician’s gallery and the refreshment setup on opposite sides of the room from the dance floor and mingling circle just outside the dancing area. Both areas were lit by their own smaller chandeliers, showcasing the crisp black and white suits of the orchestra members and the champagne flutes, wine glasses and array of cheeses, bread, fruit and cakes, respectively.
The orchestra’s latest cotillion filled the air and several couples displayed perfect grace as they performed the dance. Laughter blended seamlessly with the music, creating a cheerful, lighthearted atmosphere. Yet, amidst the splendor and grandeur of the party, Anne Huxley felt anything but at ease. She noticed with chagrin that her glass was nearly empty, and she would have to weave her way through clusters of party guests to get another. And in her bright yellow gown that her mother, the viscountess of Huxley, had insisted she wear, she was sure to draw eyes right to her. Especially the eyes of her distant cousin, who had been relentlessly pursuing her all evening.
Her jade green eyes darted around the room, searching for Albert Harrow. Her distant cousin was a man whose ambition far outweighed his charm. On that evening, he was also fueled by the spirits being served at the party, which made him even bolder in his advances toward her. The hungry gleam in his eyes was impossible to miss, and his endless chasing and sloppy attempts at trapping her in conversation all evening had left Anne on edge.
Shuddering at the idea of having to dance with her distasteful cousin, Anne decided she would take a chance on slipping over to the refreshment tables. She ducked into the crowd as though she was heading for the entryway to the ballroom, intending to slip around the crowd and sneak up to the tables from behind them. There, she could hide behind one of the pillars and maintain a vantage point that would allow her to keep an eye out for the insufferable man.
She was just about to round the first pillar that stood between the refreshment tables and the dance floor, just paces from the outermost dancers, when a figure bumped into her. She had her eyes on the ground, but she recognized the deep purple breeches and matching boots immediately.
“Pardon me, Albert,” she mumbled, hoping he was at last too inebriated to stop her from getting away.
She was terribly mistaken. He reached out and took her hand, a gentlemanly gesture in itself, but his grip spoke of his determination to not release her.
“Anne, my beloved,” he drawled, the alcohol on his breath seeping into the air and nearly choking Anne. “Where have you been hiding? I’ve been looking for you.”
Anne lifted her gaze, carefully avoiding her cousin’s, pretending to be searching for someone.
“I need to speak to Mother,” she said quickly, attempting to sound as though it was an urgent matter.
Albert pretended as though she hadn’t spoken. He raised her hand to his lips, planting a kiss across her knuckles. Even with her gloves, she could feel the drool he left in the wake of his sloppy kiss, and her stomach churned.
“I must insist that you dance with me before the evening ends,” he said. “In fact, I would have no complaints if you should decide to dance the final waltz with me.”
Anne’s stomach flipped again, and she feared that her champagne would end up all over the front of her cousin’s coat. Being fifteen years her senior, his hair was graying at the temples and in streaks all over what remained of his black hair. But that wasn’t what repulsed her. He was looking at her like a lion might look at a gazelle before pouncing to gain its meal. She shook her head, trying to free herself from Albert’s sickening grasp.
“I really must find Mother,” she said, glancing around wildly for any sign of the viscountess. She knew that, if her mother knew her cousin was trying to engage her, the viscountess would encourage it. But if she could get away before her cousin realized she was lying, it wouldn’t matter. She would flee and hide in the gardens if she had to. Anything to get away from her horrid cousin.
Filled with desperation, she made a hasty move to escape Albert. She thought that if she could just disappear into the clusters of guests surrounding them, he would be too alcohol influenced to be able to follow her. It was a good plan, until the long, flowing train of her ballgown got caught under the feet of her drunken cousin. She didn’t realize the problem until she tripped and began falling, face first, into a tall, stand supporting a large tray that was filled with crystal champagne flutes.
With a loud crash, the stand, the tray and the flutes fell to the ground. The shattering crystal echoed all throughout the ballroom, even over the sounds of the orchestra’s music. The entire ballroom froze as though under a magic spell. All eyes focused on Anne and the mess at her feet, and she wished with everything in her that she could melt into the spilled champagne and broken glass that lay on the floor.
She stood, frozen in horror, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She wanted to close her eyes to block out the mess she had made, but even her eyelids were stuck. It seemed that the only thing that was capable of moving was her heart, which was pounding faster than a racing horse. And the murmurs of the guests around her that began as she tried to catch her breath did nothing to alleviate her distress.
“More of her scandalous tendencies,” she heard one woman say in a tone that did little to make her think it was meant to be unheard by her.
“How shameful for her family,” whispered a man who was just out of her line of sight to her right.
Tears stung Anne’s eyes, yet not a single one of them fell. She was surprised that her cousin hadn’t said a word to her in the minutes since the flutes smashed to the ground. Then, another voice rang out, not trying at all to be hushed.
“No wonder she remains unwed after two seasons,” a woman with a high-pitched voice said. It was a familiar voice, but Anne couldn’t bring herself to lift her head to match the face to the voice. Won’t the floor open up and swallow me to remove me from this nightmare? She pleaded helplessly.
Naturally, no such rescue came. From the edge of her vision, she watched as her cousin, despite his previous state of inebriation, managed to slip away through the crowd, completely unnoticed in the wake of the incident that had drawn everyone’s attention to her. A sob lodged itself in her throat, and she wished in a desperate moment that she could call to him, even though she could barely tolerate the sight of him. But he vanished before she could find her voice, leaving her all alone in the mess she’d made. The whispers were turning into louder, clearer admonishments and exclamations of disdain, and the room suddenly seemed too small for Anne to breathe.
Abandoning any remaining semblance of decorum, Anne turned on her heel and made a dash for the ballroom entryway. She had the presence enough of mind to gather her skirts before she took off running, thus eliminating any further trip hazard. She moved just fast enough to stun the gawking crowd, and no one tried to stop her. She succeeded in exiting the ballroom, turning blindly down the hallway that would eventually take her to the common area of her family’s townhouse. She had no destination in mind, she only meant to flee the judgmental crowd of party guests. She had just gotten out of earshot of the ballroom when she began to sob, her vision blinded by hot tears.
She ran until she reached the servant’s entrance that led to the gardens at the side of her family’s home. She burst through the door, falling to her hands and knees onto the cool, damp grass. She cried for several moments, gripping onto the grass as though hanging on for dear life. Even though she knew it was impossible, she thought she could still feel eyes boring into her. The sensation became so overwhelming that after another couple of minutes of sobbing, she had to pull herself off the ground and weave her way through the maze of hedges and rose bushes that led to the center of the gardens.
Once she was far enough away from the townhouse to shake the feeling of all those eyes on her, she finally slowed her pace. She wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks, then pressed her face into a nearby hedge full of soft, cold green leaves. The coolness of the plant offered her a miniscule comfort, and it allowed her the chance to catch her breath. She knew she would have to face her family soon enough about how horribly she had embarrassed them. But right that moment, she didn’t care. In fact, if she was lucky, they would never force her to attend another social event ever again.
As she was dabbing at the last of her tears with the hem of her outer skirt, she heard a muffled cry. She held her breath, trying to identify the sound and the direction from whence it came. When she heard it again, she turned to her left, tiptoeing down the narrow path between a long row of hedges identical to the one in which she had planted her face moments before. As she walked, she noticed that the cry sounded closer, so she slowed her pace.
It took her three turns through the strategically placed rose bushes to finally locate the source of the sound. It took her a minute and some careful maneuvering to see what produced such a tiny cry. But at last, in a small sliver of crescent moonlight that shone directly beneath a bush of orange roses, she spotted a tiny, trembling bundle of dirt matted, ginger colored fur.
A little kitten, no older than three or four weeks coiled its little body, rocking sideways in a clumsy attempt to lash out at Anne. She gasped softly, the condition of the small feline melting her heart and filling her with a sudden, overwhelming sensation of protectiveness. She reached down, carefully scooping up the tiny, frail bundle of dirty fur. The kitten hissed almost inaudibly, swiping at her with a paw that was barely as big as one of Anne’s fingers.
“Oh, you sweet darling,” Anne cooed, cradling the kitten to her chest. “Where is your mother?”
A quick survey of the area indicated that no large cat was in sight. And from the thinness of the small animal, she guessed it hadn’t nursed from its mother in a few days. She held up the kitten to get a better look at it in the moonlight. It was a boy, she realized, and he took another swipe at her nose.
Anne giggled, nuzzling the frightened creature gently with her nose. The kitten pushed on her face as she did so, issuing another hiss. But before the quiet sound had finished escaping the tiny animal’s mouth, he had begun rubbing his head against her face, purring softly in her hand.
Instinctively, Anne lifted her skirt and wrapped up the little orange kitten in it. He calmed instantly, staring at Anne with curious eyes. When he mewled again, it was stronger and more insistent. Anne guessed he was hungry, and she knew she needed to find some way to fix that soon.
“It seems we’re both outcasts tonight,” she whispered to the kitten, her voice soft and soothing. She gently caressed the fur on his head, feeling the rapid beat of his tiny heart.
The kitten, seemingly uncertain on his feelings about her, nipped at her fingers. His razor-sharp baby teeth nicked her fingertip, but she could only giggle.
“You are a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” she asked, lifting the kitten, still wrapped in her skirt, back up to the level of her eyes. “I think you shall be named Mischief.”
At the sound of Anne’s soft but confident proclamation of her new pet’s name, the kitten tilted his head back as if to study her face. Then, he reached for her face, but not to swipe at her that time. Instead, he put his tiny paw beneath her right eye until she brought him closer to her face. Then, he put his little cold nose against her skin, beginning his purring again.
For a fleeting moment, the evening’s earlier debacle faded into insignificance as Anne cradled the abandoned kitten in her arms. In the silence of the garden, Anne found solace in her newfound companion. And as he finally relented to her kindness and curled up in her arms, hiding his face with the hem of her skirt, she understood that he found solace with her, as well.
Chapter One
Anne stood staring morosely out the window, thinking about the evening ahead of her, while Martha, her loyal lady’s maid, moved about with deft fingers, fastening the delicate buttons of Anne’s pink gown. The dress was an artful collage of ribbons and lace, and the skirt was wide and round, exactly the way Anne loved her dresses. However, she couldn’t bask in the thrill of a new, pretty dress. Dread occupied her mind and threatened to overwhelm her.
She had been surprised when her elder sister included her in the invitation to the ball she was hosting that night. After her incident at the ball the year before as she tried to escape her cousin, everyone in the ton had been reluctant to invite Anne to any events. And even though her sister was celebrating her one-year wedding anniversary with the earl of Dunbridge, Anne would have expected Elizabeth to have the same reservations about having her attend such a special event that everyone else did.
Truthfully, her peers in high society had become increasingly more hesitant to extend invitations to her, and for similar reasons. It was well known that she wasn’t the most graceful lady in the ton. But even Elizabeth had been reluctant to claim a connection to her. She supposed her elder sister was obliged to invite her, along with their parents. Still, there was a nervous twist in her stomach, and she wished for a way out of attending the party. However, she knew there would be no such reprieve. Despite her clumsy escapades, and her nearing the point of being an old maid at twenty-two years of age, her parents still held a little hope that she would marry. Even if it was to her own horrid cousin.
Anne shuddered at the idea of being wed to Albert. The age difference alone between them was enough to be deemed scandalous. And his drinking habits, even outside the gentlemen’s clubs, sparked rumors all over the ton. But worse of all, she would be forced to produce an heir for him, as he had never been married. As much as Anne loved the idea of having a family of her own, she could hardly stand the thought of laying, or having children, with Albert. She took a deep breath, trying to force the thoughts away.
As if sensing her need for a mood lightener, Mischief leaped onto the dressing table, swatting playfully at the ribbons on her dress. Anne laughed, reaching out for her cat with care so as to not disturb Martha while she finished with the buttons on the dress.
“My precious, we shan’t play with people’s clothing,” she chastised, even though she found it precious when he did such things. “Do you not have enough toys to keep you occupied?”
Mischief looked up at her with his orange-yellow eyes, blinking them softly as he stretched up his neck to sniff her chin. Anne laughed again, giving the animal a kiss on the top of his head.
“I suppose that is a request for a couple of more,” she said, nuzzling the ginger cat.
Mischief gently nudged her with its head until she cast her gaze upon it. Then, he meowed once, looking over his shoulder at the corner of the room, where several of the toys Anne had made for him lay scattered about.
Anne sighed, scratching the animal behind the ears.
“Very well,” she said, smiling warmly at the cat. “When next I am knitting, I shall make you a new ball of yarn and make a new yarn braid for you to chew on.”
Mischief blinked at her slowly again, putting his nose to her cheek as though kissing her. Then, he turned and gracefully hopped from her arms, taking up a perch on the end of the table, not far from where Anne stood.
“I suppose he means to help me dress you, Miss Anne,” Martha said with a good-natured laugh as she fastened the last of the button and tied the ribbon that made a grand bow in the back of the dress.
Anne giggled again and shook her head.
“You do the most splendid work, Martha,” she said. “I may loathe these parties, but I get to go to them looking my best. And that’s all thanks to you.”
Martha waved her hand, her pale round face flushing deep crimson.
“Speaking of parties, it’s time to leave for this one,” she said.
Anne took a deep breath, her emotions mingling between excitement and apprehension about attending her elder sister Elizabeth’s ball. She was thrilled for her sister that she was celebrating a love that could have come right out of a storybook. Even though Elizabeth and she weren’t exceptionally close, she did love her elder sister, and she wanted nothing but happiness for her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of her family’s expectations pressing down on her.
“Very well,” she said in an airy whoosh as she exhaled the breath she had been holding. “I shall go and await the rest of the family.
Martha nodded, curtseying.
“Try to enjoy yourself this evening,” she said.
Anne shrugged.
“I can pretend to try,” she said.
With that, Anne descended the staircase, her skirts billowing gracefully around her. She had learned to never wear dresses with long trains, and she kept her hems as far off the ground as was considered appropriate by society. By the time she reached the first floor, Reeves, her family’s butler, had materialized at the bottom of the staircase.
“Miss Anne,” Reeves said, folding his tall, thin frame into a deep bow. “Your family awaits you in the carriage just outside.”
Anne dipped her head and offered the kind butler a warm smile.
“Thank you, Reeves,” she said.
She saw herself out, taking the moment alone to breathe and put on her best fake smile. She was miserable, but she couldn’t let it show, even in her eyes. Ever since her incident with the champagne flutes the year before, her parents made it a point to watch her closely at the few events she had attended since then. The only thing more embarrassing than the whispers of the gossipers of the ton was the fact that most of them were gossiping because of the way her parents would never take their eyes off her.
The footman stepped down from his place at the rear of the coach to help her in when she approached. She gave him a silent nod of gratitude, immediately finding herself in the arms of Charlotte, her younger sister.
“Sister, you look so beautiful,” she said, tugging Anne toward the seat beside her.
Anne sat beside Charlotte, grateful that her younger sister had recently debuted in society so that she could attend social events, too.
“Thank you, Char,” she said, kissing her sister on the cheek. “Your purple dress looks ravishing on you.”
Charlotte, who looked almost exactly like their mother with her darker red hair and lighter green eyes, blushed.
“Thank you, Anne,” she said shyly. “I am so excited for tonight. I cannot wait to meet a nice gentleman that might turn out to be my husband.”
Anne nodded, giving her sister a warm smile. Anne herself had little hope of marrying, especially not for love. But she was thrilled that Charlotte was hopeful and delighted with the prospect of finding love.
The viscount gave his elder daughter a firm, pointed look.
“Anne, remember the importance of proper decorum tonight,” he said sternly. “We don’t need any unnecessary disruptions.”
He said nothing further, but the look in his eyes was clear enough. Sweet, naive Charlotte was of age to seek a match. But Anne’s scandalous escapades could damage her pool of potential prospects. Deep down, Anne knew that her incident the previous year had already had an impact on Charlotte’s social life. Anne cared not for the opinions of the snobs of the ton. But she did care about how her dear younger sister might be affected by any missteps on her part.
The viscountess nodded in agreement with her husband. Her eyes were softer, but only marginally, and Anne felt sure it was only because Charlotte was present.
“Please, darling, do not let us down,” she said.
Anne cheeks reddened, but she nodded. The invisible weight she was carrying on her shoulders grew heavier, and she wanted to leap out of the carriage, even though it was now moving. Instead, she fixed her gaze outside the window, fighting to keep her composure. She knew she had to remain calm, even though she wanted to say something in her own defense. It always seemed as though her parents missed the things that led up to one of her so-called disruptions. Like the rest of society, they only seemed to see her acting out and accidents. But in her twenty-two years, she had learned to not try to speak up. Women were expect to be compliant and silent, no matter what the situation was.
“Mother, Father,” Charlotte said, sounding offended. “Don’t be so hard on Anne. She is a wonderful young woman, and she never means to cause trouble.”
Anne looked at her younger sister, giving her a small, grateful smile. Charlotte was the sweetest young lady Anne had ever known. She thought again about how her antics were hurting her little sister, and she vowed silently that she would be on her best behavior that night, no matter what, if only for Charlotte’s sake.
The viscount and viscountess said nothing, but they exchanged a silent look. Anne blushed again, but she kept her eyes on her sister.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Tonight will be a wonderful night for us all. You’ll see.”
About half an hour later, the Huxley family arrived at Dunbridge Manor. Anne’s heart quickened as she stepped out of the carriage. Elizabeth and her husband, James Ashford, stood at the door of the mansion, their smiles shining brilliantly in the fading evening sun.
“I am so glad you all came,” Elizabeth said, embracing first her parents and then her youngest sister.
“Thank you all for coming,” James said, bowing as he, too, greeted the Huxley’s. As James and the viscount shook hands and exchanged mild pleasantries, Elizabeth reluctantly embraced Anne.
“How are you, Sister?” she asked, her voice carrying the same wariness that her parents’ had.
Anne tried to smile, but she knew it was more of a grimace.
“I am well, thank you,” she mumbled, not surprised when Elizabeth turned back to their parents before she had finished her response.
“Please, come in,” she said. “The rest of the guests should arrive any moment.”
Anne and her family followed her elder sister and the earl to the ballroom, which was the epitome of grandeur, with chandeliers casting shimmering light upon the crowd of guests who mingled on the fringes of the dance floor. Anne’s eyes immediately found her dearest friend of two years, Susan, at the opposite end of the room. Susan spotted Anne in the same instant, and she waved merrily at her, motioning her over.
“Excuse me, Mother,” Anne said, pausing long enough to give Charlotte a brief kiss on the cheek. “Susan is calling to me.”
Without waiting for a response and hoping to slip out of her mother’s line of vision in the crowd, Anne vanished, making her way toward Susan. Her dear friend met her halfway, rushing up to her and throwing her arms around Anne.
“I am so glad to see you,” Susan said, beaming at Anne. “Come and talk with me. Tell me how you’ve been lately.”
Anne laughed as Susan dragged her to the refreshment tables, which were arranged vertically along the back wall of the ballroom. Susan fetched two glasses of wine, handing one to Anne, which she took gratefully.
“It is good to see you, too, Susan,” she said. “Mother and Father made sure to embarrass me quite nicely on the way here.”
Susan sighed, shaking her head.
“Are they still upset about last year?” she asked.
Anne nodded.
“And the dinner party where I discreetly admonished the overly forward baron with a gentle tap to his shin beneath the table,” she said, unable to help smiling at the memory. “And the ball where I ‘accidentally’ stomped the drunk earl’s foot when his hand ‘accidentally’ slipped down my back.”
Susan rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
“They should be grateful that you would not subject yourself to such inappropriate behaviour,” she said. “One would think that would reflect more on your character than you defending yourself.”
Anne nodded, taking a generous drink of her wine.
“One would think,” she murmured.
Susan gave her a sympathetic look.
“Well, don’t you worry, my dearest,” she said. “You and I shall remain in each other’s company this evening. I will never be too far away.”
But no sooner than she had spoken the words than a gentleman in a crisp green suit approached. Anne took a step back, knowing full well he hadn’t come to speak to her. Her instincts proved right when he completely ignored her and held out his hand to Susan.
“May I have your first dance, Lady Susan?” he asked.
Susan looked at Anne over her shoulder, looking torn. Anne gave her a reassuring smile, subtly waving her toward the dance floor. After a moment of hesitation, Susan reluctantly turned to face the gentleman.
“Of course,” she said, looking back at Anne once more. “I will be right back,” she mouthed before allowing the gentleman to lead her onto the dance floor.
Anne remained alone near the refreshment table, finishing her first glass of wine, and reaching for another. She knew she should pace herself, as she could hardly afford to get too lightheaded from the wine and end up on the dance floor. But deep down, she knew that she wouldn’t be asked for a dance. And when the first strains of the first dance set of the evening wafted from the orchestra and she still stood alone, she was hardly surprised.
Her thoughts were just beginning to wander and she was preparing for another evening of staying as hidden as possible and doing her best to avoid trouble when Lord Sebastian Gray, the only person in the ton more notorious for his mischief than she was for hers, sauntered over to her. Anne froze, not daring to so much as blink, lest she manage to blind herself just enough to trip herself. Or Lord Gray.
“I see that you are as popular as ever on the dance floor,” he said with a snicker. “I do hope your feet aren’t too sore by the end of the night.”
Anne’s blood heated instantly, and she turned her face away from him. She wanted to push away the insolent man, but she remembered her promise to herself to not embarrass Charlotte.
“I see that you’re not dancing, either,” she retorted, smiling smugly.
Lord Gray chuckled, purposely bumping into the hand with which she held her wine glass as he reached around her to fetch his own. She managed to keep her grip, but just barely, and her temper rose a few centimeters.
“It is by choice, I assure you,” he said. “I had an important business conversation to finish, and then I felt compelled to pay my respects and offer salutations. But I knew I would have plenty of time for that, seeing as how no one would dare risk dancing with the most impudent lady in the ton.”
Anne’s vision went red and, before she could think better of it, she threw her glass of wine at him. The red liquid coated the white cravat of Lord Gray’s immaculately tailored suit, and the glass tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. It didn’t shatter, but that made no difference. Several people had witnessed her tantrum and soon enough, everyone was once more staring at her.
As at the ball the previous year, the ballroom fell completely silent. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she stared out at the faces that were rapidly filling with shock and disapproval. She had certainly caused a disruption, just as her family had feared. To make matters worse, people were coming up and offering Lord Gray, who was feigning shock and ignorance, assistance in getting the wine off his suit. Would there ever be an end to the embarrassing injustices Anne kept seeming to encounter?
Chapter Two
Richard Stratford, the duke of Calder, walked into the softly lit gentleman’s club, White’s, grateful for the respite from the constant demands of his title and mindless gossip and unreasonable expectations of London’s elite on noblemen. Floating wafts of cigar smoke and the fragrance of polished wood greeted him like an old friend, helping him to forget the pressures and tediousness of day-to-day life. The times when he could sneak away alone were precious to him. They were the only reason why he could keep pressing on with his life as a duke.
He habitually glanced casually around, noting a few familiar faces amongst the pairs and small groups of men placing bets at card games, playing billiards and sitting and talking quietly to one another. But one face in particular caught his attention, and he smiled at once. Seated at their usual table was Thomas Harville, his closest friend, sipping on a glass of whiskey. It was a happy coincidence to see his friend there, so he made his way over to him. He waved to one of the waiters who recognized him as one of the club’s regulars, to which the waiter nodded and disappeared behind the bar, no spoken words needed.
“Richard,” Thomas said, greeting him with a warm smile. “You’ve been scarce of late. I hope all is well with you.”
Richard chuckled wryly as he took a seat opposite his friend.
“All is as well as ever, Thomas,” he said, avoiding his friend’s gaze. That wasn’t entirely true. But he didn’t want to spend this unexpected time with his friend discussing his problems.
Thomas was never one to be fooled, however. He studied Richard carefully, locking eyes with him as he sipped his drink.
“Far be it from me to debate a man on his feelings,” he said. “But I must say that I don’t quite believe you. Are you sure you are doing well?”
Richard sighed, giving his friend a sheepish smile.
“You were never one to be deceived,” he said, feeling resigned. “I have been keeping busy with business affairs and trips out of town to prevent Mother from interfering in my life.”
Thomas raised his eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but being silenced by the arrival of Richard’s drink. After Richard tipped the waiter, Thomas tried again.
“What is she doing to meddle with your life?” he asked.
Richard finished half his drink in one gulp, wincing at the burn of the bourbon.
“She persists that I must marry and prepare to sire an heir to the dukedom of Calder,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Worst still, she keeps trying to choose my bride.”
Thomas nodded thoughtfully, but he finished his drink without saying a word. After a long moment of silence, Thomas gently smacked the table with his palm and grinned at Richard.
“How about a game of billiards?” he asked.
Richard smiled, albeit warily. It wasn’t like Thomas to change the subject during a conversation unless he was thinking about what was said and had something to say on the subject. Still, it had been ages since Richard played billiards, and it sounded like a nice reprieve from dwelling in his thoughts about his mother’s matchmaking efforts alone.
He followed Thomas to the gaming room where the billiard tables were lined up neatly in well-spaced-out rows. There were two tables available, and Thomas led them to the one at the far back of the room. He racked the balls, setting up the game while Richard selected sticks with which they could play. Richard took the first shot, but all the while he could feel his friend’s eyes on him. After his first ball missed its target, he looked up to find Thomas staring at him with the same thoughtful expression he’d had at the table. He took his own shot, sinking his first ball and securing the striped balls for that round of the game, missing the second. Then, he looked at Richard and sighed.
“My friend, you can’t keep avoiding marriage forever,” he said. “Perhaps there is something to the thought of you settling down.”
Richard raised his eyebrows at his friend as though Thomas had suggested that he walk off the pier with a full suit of armor on.
“Has mother gotten to you, too?” he asked. He jested, but he wondered at his friend’s sudden agreement with such an abstract notion. Richard had never been one for the idea of marriage, and Thomas was well aware of that fact. What would make his friend think he would change his mind now?
Thomas nodded, giving a small smile as he held up one hand.
“I do not mean to offend,” he said. “But consider this. If you took it upon yourself to find a bride of your choosing, perhaps it would put an end to your mother’s meddling.”
Richard blinked, surprised by his friend’s logic. He still didn’t think he could bring himself to consider the possibility of marriage right then. But nor could he deny that Thomas had a point. If he were to lose his mind and decide to marry, he would rather it be a woman he chose to wed, not one of the many shallow, air-headed heiresses his mother kept pushing on him.
As Richard lined up a shot, he considered Thomas’s words. Could choosing his own candidate for marriage be his escape from his mother’s incessant scheming? He didn’t imagine that she would be too thrilled with him for rejecting the women she wanted him to consider courting.
“I think that Mother might be more furious with me for such an effort,” he said, voicing his thoughts.
Thomas chuckled.
“I think you are right,” he said. “But by all accounts, you would still be doing what she wants you to do. And she could hardly bicker with you for doing what she’s been pressing upon you for so long.”
Richard shook his head, making the shot he had just taken. He made two more shots before missing again, looking at his friend doubtfully.
“I must say that I can’t be any more enthusiastic about your suggestion than I am about Mother’s pestering,” he said. “How can I find a bride when a bride is the last thing that I want?”
Thomas shrugged, eyeing the table for his next shot before speaking again.
“No one could expect you to embrace the notion immediately,” he said. “Just take some time to consider it. Surely, if you kept in mind that you are doing this to keep control of your own life, you could keep an eye out for a lady that piques your interest. Even if it takes you the rest of the season, it should appease your mother than you are taking some initiative in finding yourself a wife.”
Richard shuddered at Thomas’s last word as his friend took his shot. Thomas must have seen the movement, as he laughed and scratched the cue against the table, barely bunting his ball from its spot on the green material.
“I do not mean to laugh at your plight,” Thomas said, despite continuing to laugh. “I am just surprised by how reluctant you seem toward marriage.”
Richard nodded, leaning on the stick he held in his hand.
“I am sure it sounds strange,” he said. “We are all taught from a young age that we grow up, we marry, we have children, we care for our families and then we pass on. And I am aware that I owe my family’s dukedom an heir. But having a wife seems like more of a hindrance to me than an asset.”
Thomas frowned, tilting his head.
“Do you mean to say that you do not believe in love?” he asked.
Richard shrugged.
“I do not judge those who claim to have found love,” he said. “How could I possibly cherish a lady devoid of intellect and personality, akin to a faded sofa cushion?”
Thomas burst out laughing, slapping his knee as Richard smirked.
“That is true enough,” he said, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “But what if there was a woman out there who had a little more personality and intellect than that?”
Richard snorted.
“Then it would be only a little more,” he said. “And that would be a miracle that even the heavens likely couldn’t deliver.”
The two men shared a laugh, and Richard relaxed a bit with the humorous interlude. Then, Thomas nodded, straightening his coat and shaking his head.
“I think that no man could suffer a woman such as you described for long periods of time,” he said. “But I think that you could find a woman who could offer that which you seek.”
Richard sighed again, shaking his head.
“But what I seek is an escape from marriage,” he said. “I can’t find that and find a wife simultaneously.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No,” he said. “But you mustn’t rule out the idea of picking a woman you could tolerate for the rest of your life. We both know that your mother will never relent. And it isn’t as if you need to make up your mind this instant. Just think about it, my friend. It can’t be any worse than what your mother will undoubtedly deliver to you if you don’t take control of the situation.”
Richard nodded slowly as Thomas’s words continued to sink in. He knew that his friend was right. There was nothing that would get him out of a marriage to some noblewoman, short of him fleeing London, and thus, his responsibilities as duke. And his dukedom was something he took very seriously, so running away was out of the question. He would never desire marriage. But if he didn’t want to guarantee his own misery for the rest of his days, he knew he should do something to take charge of his own decisions in the matter.
“I’ll consider it,” Richard finally conceded, sinking a ball with a soft thud. “But I am placing a bet right now that I could never find a woman I believe to be worth more than five minutes of my time.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows in intrigue.
“Is that a money-worthy wager?” he asked.
Richard snickered.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said jovially. “If I find a woman worth marrying by the end of this season, I will pay your membership dues here for the next ten years.”
Thomas laughed heartily again and nodded.
“I am happy to take that bet,” he said.
Richard offered his hand, feeling confident in his side of the wager.
“Consider the wager made, my friend,” he said.
Thomas nodded, pausing just long enough to take another shot. Richard noticed there were only five balls left on the table. Thomas righted himself after making one shot but missing the next. He held out his stick in front of him, leaning his hip against the billiard table.
“So, to whom is your mother trying to marry you this week?” he asked with a grin.
Richard groaned at the thought.
“Lady Eleanor Westbrook,” he said.
Thomas gaped at Richard, slowly shaking his head.
“Well, I can see why you would be reluctant about her,” he said. “There is no greater sofa cushion in all of London.”
Richard snorted, but it was a statement too close to the truth for him to find any true humor.
“She is as rigid as they come,” he said. “She reminds me quite a bit of Mother, now that I think of it.”
Thomas sniffed.
“That would explain why your mother would suggest her,” he said.
Richard shuddered again.
“Let’s forget about that,” he said. “I have a game to win.”
Thomas laughed once more, looking at Richard with bemusement.
“I believe it is I who will win,” he said.
Thomas was right. He did, indeed, with that round of billiards. The gentlemen concluded their refreshments and requested additional libations before Richard proceeded to set up the following round. Thomas kept Richard in high spirits by discussing his new business ventures in the perfume and cosmetic industry and the fresh connections the trade opened up to him. It was a relief to Richard to finally be able to forget his mother’s meddling for a little while. He drank and played his troubles away with Thomas until well into the evening. Despite the darkening sky outside the windows of the club, he was disappointed when Thomas walked over to the wall and replaced his billiard cue stick.
“I believe I will take my leave,” he said. “I have an early meeting with Lord Harton in the morning. We will be arranging our first shipment of cosmetics, hopefully for next week.”
Richard nodded, clapping his friend on the back.
“Good luck to you, my friend,” he said. “I do hope we can do this again soon.”
Thomas grinned and nodded.
“I will take any chance I can get to beat you at billiards,” he said.
The cool night air caressed Richard’s face as he stepped outside the club. He waved farewell to Thomas, then took his time taking the short walk to his waiting carriage. It was a pleasant night, and Richard wished he had walked to the club. Thomas’s words echoed in his thoughts, and once again, he found himself seeing sense in the idea his friend had proposed. Could he really shape his own future on his own terms? Was it truly so simple?
Let me know your thoughts!
I’m glad that you finished reading the preview of “A Fake Courtship with the Duke”. It will be on Amazon very soon!
This Post Has One Comment
I like it! Actually, I like it a lot!! Tossing the wine, finding the kitten, I like Anne’s style…definitely someone who would be ‘different’ for the Duke 🙂