“It is all right,” she murmured, resting a hand against his neck.
She noticed that the Duke was watching from a distance. He did not interrupt and did not approach. He simply observed the way the horse responded to her in a way no trainer had managed.
She wondered if he was hoping to copy her, even though she knew it would not be possible.
She did not look at him at first. When she finally did, it was only because she did not know what else to do. Their eyes met across the yard, but there was no warmth in her own.
“You told people about our agreement,” she said.
Dorian straightened slightly. “I did not.”
“Then they certainly invented it quickly.”
“It is how things are and how they have always been. Surely you knew that?”
“That does not make any of this easier.”
She turned back to Tempest as though deciding the conversation no longer required his participation.
“I am not here for stories,” she sighed. “I am also not here to decide how such gossip started, since it is not false.”
Dorian stepped closer, stopping just short of invading her space. “Then why are you here?”
She did not look at him when she answered. “For my horse.”
“And after that?” he asked.
Anne’s hand remained steady against Tempest’s neck. “There is no after that. We agreed to certain terms, and I have every intention of keeping to them.”
“We will see about that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He simply chuckled, not elaborating.
She knew what he meant, though. There were moments when she considered that he was not so bad and that she might have misread him, but then he would say ridiculous things like that, and she would remember who he was.
He expected her to fall for him like she had no doubt that many other young ladies had, but she would not. Shecouldnot.
Within the hour, the atmosphere had shifted entirely. Servants whispered openly in corners. Footmen passed messages that were not quite messages, only speculation. Kitchen staff paused mid-task whenever Anne’s name was mentioned, as though it now carried weight beyond its usual meaning.
But it was not all bad.
From what she understood, and from what she was told in whispers by maids, racing investors who had previously treated Ashford Hall with polite distance suddenly reappeared with renewed interest, sending words of congratulations.
Neighboring families who had spent months questioning the stability of the Duke of Ashford’s estate sent calling cards and invitations, as though the situation had been resolved overnight simply by the presence of a bride.
Throughout the week, Anne felt all of it in the way doors opened slightly faster when she approached, in the way conversations stopped too quickly when she entered rooms, in the way people looked at her as though she had already become something she was still trying to understand.
Each day blurred into the next with unsettling speed. She had expected adjustment, perhaps even difficulty, but not this immediate redefinition of her existence, especially not during her visits to Ashford Hall. She was no longer simply a guest or even a temporary presence. She was the future Duchess.
The thought sat uneasily with her, for it implied permanence, expectation, and a life that other people now felt entitled to interpret on her behalf.
The Duke, for his part, appeared almost entirely unaffected by the chaos surrounding them. If anything, he seemed mildly entertained. He slipped back into his natural ease as though the engagement had simply provided him with a socially acceptable excuse to behave exactly as he pleased.
He teased her with a familiarity that made the servants exchange knowing glances. He commented on everything from the precision of her posture to the expression she wore when she was trying not to react to him, as though both were equally fascinating subjects of study.
Anne wanted to find it infuriating, and she might have had he not been so entirely earnest when he did it.
