Page 19
Slowly, she reached out to pour herself a fresh cup of tea.
“You don’t believe a word I said, do you?” Anthony asked, breaking the silence as he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Should I, Your Grace?” Leonora countered without looking up. “You give polished, gentlemanly answers because it is what is expected of the Duke of Glenhaven. But underneath all that armor, I suspect you care very little for the traditional notions of romance and marriage.”
Anthony let out a humorless breath. “Perhaps you are right. If you must know the absolute truth, since my grandmother is no longer here to scold us for our lack of manners, I will answer your questions properly.”
Leonora finally lifted her gaze, meeting his gaze across the table.
“If I had a wife...” Anthony began. “...my wife would indeed be my primary concern. But the reality is quite simple. I am never getting married. The entire institution is a cage designed to tie men down to social expectations they care nothing about.”
Leonora felt a strange jolt in her chest at his honesty.
“Love...” Anthony continued, a cynical edge creeping into his tone. “...is largely an illusion created by poets to sell books to impressionable young girls. It is messy, illogical, and entirely disruptive. But,” he paused, his gaze softening just enough to make her breath catch. “If I were ever foolish enough to fall into that trap, if I ever let down my guard and actually cared for someone, I would never leave her. I would burn the entire world to the ground before I let anything harm her.”
He paused and then his smile waned. “But that will never happen. Because I am never foolish.”
Leonora stared at him, a realization washing over her. She finally understood what Marian had been talking about days ago when she hinted at the deep, protective loyalty hidden beneath Anthony’s exterior.
“I see,” Leonora murmured softly, a tightness forming in her throat.
Anthony leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Now, it is my turn to ask. Since we are casting aside all polite parlour deceptions, answer me honestly, Miss Ashcroft. If someone offered you a life of complete security, a home, and a partnership built on affection, would you take it, or would you run away the first time things became too comfortable?”
Leonora went quiet, her gaze drifting away from him down to the table. For a fleeting heartbeat, she wondered what it would feel like to simply lay down her burdens, to let someone else share the weight of her family’s ruined history. But the thought, as comforting as it momentarily seemed, felt dangerously fragile. Her life was bound to a deeper purpose, to finding the truth about her mother and keeping her independence entirely intact.
“I do not know what love is,” Leonora answered. “I am also certainly not interested in marriage. My life belongs to my family, and to my own pursuits. I have no room for romantic illusions.”
Instead of looking annoyed or dismissive as she expected, Anthony merely stared at her. But the expression on his face wasn’t the usual arrogance. It was... curiosity. He looked at her as though she were a complex puzzle he wanted to solve, tracing every line of her expression with his eyes.
Leonora felt a strange thrill of victory ripple through her chest. For the first time all afternoon, she had managed to wipe that self-assured smirk completely off his face, leaving him contemplative.
“You should try being more genuine like this more often, Your Grace,” Leonora said, offering him a parting smile as she gathered her reticule. “You are infinitely more tolerable when you drop the smug act.”
Before Anthony could formulate a reply, Leonora turned on her heel and began walking briskly across the lawn toward the main gates of the estate. She had survived another round of psychological warfare with the infuriating duke, and she felt an exhilarating sense of control.
She passed through the wrought-iron gates of Glenhaven, stepping out onto the tree-lined London street. The carriage traffic was light, and a gentle breeze rustled the falling leaves along the pavement. Leonora pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead as she prepared to walk the short distance toward the main thoroughfare where she could flag down a public hackney cab.
As she walked, a prickling sensation crawled across the back of her neck. She felt as though someone was watching her, with eyes fixed on her from across the street, so she stopped to look. Immediately as she turned, she saw someone look away and move.
A woman was standing near the brick corner of a neighboring townhouse, half-shrouded in the deep shadows cast by an overhanging oak tree. She wore a woolen cloak, the hood pulled low over her brow, but something about the angle of her posture, the tilt of her head, and the distinct silver pin fastening her collar sent a shock straight through Leonora’s heart.
“Mother?” Leonora whispered, the word escaping her lips before she even realized she had spoken.
The woman turned her head slightly, revealing a flash of profile in the pale afternoon light. The resemblance was so staggering, so painfully familiar, that Leonora’s breath caught entirely in her lungs.
Without a single thought for her surroundings, without logic or caution, Leonora broke into a dead sprint.
“Wait!” Leonora cried out, her voice cracking as she bolted across the cobblestone street, ignoring the shouts of a passing carriage driver whose horses reared back with loud whinnies. “Stop, please, wait!”
She rushed toward the corner, her skirts tangling around her ankles, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs. She rounded the brick wall, her hands outstretched, desperate to grab the wool of the cloak, desperate to finally touch the ghost that had haunted her nightmares and daydreams for years.
She lunged into the shadowed alcove.
Empty space.
Leonora stumbled to a halt, crashing heavily against the cold brick wall. She stared wildly down the empty alleyway, her chest heaving as she dragged in ragged breaths of cold air. There was no one there. Just a stray cat darting behind a row of wooden crates and the patter of the wind against the stone.
She stood frozen in the center of the empty lane, her hands trembling violently as she shut her eyes tightly and opened them again.
