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“I must confide, Lord Strauss, I had doubt you’d find her manner agreeable - or, at least agreeable as any manner of lord in this entire nation would find her agreeable,” the old viscount coughed out with a laugh. “Below the skin, and the fire, and all those wild ideals she carries in her head, she’s one of the gentlest, sweetest, and most dedicated hearts you’ll find, I trust.” The ailing lord’s words hurt, each of them a reminder of that passionate moment Lawrence had spent with Anne; a reminder that he would fail so beautiful and wonderful a woman as Anne, just as his father had failed his mother. “I’m fortunate to know a man like you will be taking care of Anne, and the estate, once things... well, once I’m gone.”
“There’s no need to be fatalistic, m’lord. Anne will have what she wishes,” Lawrence insisted, finishing the last lines. He drew an ‘x’ and a line at the bottom of the contract, drawing a line across it and scribbling his name to the terms he had drawn up - then left two more lines for Anne and her father. He turned abruptly and offered the page to the viscount, who began to read its terms with a face full of mirth.
“May it be known the Duke of Amhurst, Lawrence Strauss, and Lady Anne Hatley of Roxborough, be joined into a contract of matrimony, this contract be its binding and governing document,” the viscount’s smile bloomed, though the next line began to sour what had been a hopeful grin. “...and maybe it be known that their marriage be one of... financial, marital convenience, for the maintaining of Roxborough estate and title, and that the new Duchess Anne shall be known as steward of Roxborough, bound not by the usual... sorts of marital expectations...” the old man’s voice trailed as he continued to read the terms; Lord Strauss recalled them in his head, and when the old man finished, he nodded.
“A marriage simply for your daughter’s convenience, inheritance of title. Protection of your family. She’ll not be beholden to me. She’ll be free to court and to live as she pleases. I’ll have... well, nothing to do with her. This is what we discussed, isn’t it, m’lord?” Lord Strauss queried; he felt warmth in his cheeks as a melancholy struck him, as if tears threatened to well over his eyes and splash upon the pages of the contract. “I think it best for both of us. And for the future of your estate.”
“B... but, Lawrence, certainly you don’t think my daughter would be happy with this?”
“I fear you were mistaken on the matter of me, and my character, m’lord,” Lawrence admitted, fighting away the pain. “I don’t... think, I’m the man that your daughter would want. But for your sake, and for hers...” he recalled his sister; those painful nights spent arguing. He sighed. “...I want to ensure everything is good and proper before anything dreadful should happen to you.” Lord Strauss’s tone implied that the decision he had made had been quite final.
“Lawrence, did you... not get along, with my daughter, today? Did... something happen?” the shocked old man asked through a cough. “I was certain you would... grow to... love her,” he said, his words limp and pained.
“We got along fine, m’lord. Knowing your daughter... this is what she wants. It’s what’s best for her,” Lawrence said resoundingly. He could see the heart break in the father’s eyes as the dying viscount gained realization. “If you’ll sign it, and have your daughter do the same, all problems will be solved.” Lawrence felt only emptiness at that barren declaration.
“I just don’t... understand, I suppose,” the viscount said with bluster. “My daughter... she deserves love. I had hoped I would see it, before I died. Her face... experiencing that amazing feeling. Do you know it, Lawrence?” Anne’s father asked. Lord Stra
uss looked away, stilling his raging heart.
“I should really be off for the eve, m’lord,” he evaded answering the question deftly.
“You won’t stay the night? Certainly, it’s too late to be out among the moors, and perhaps we could share a dinner - the hunters have brought back some wonderful venison...”
“I should be off,” the duke insisted.
“...Very well,” the viscount said with a weak sigh, a coughing fit claiming him.
“It’s been a pleasure, m’lord,” Lawrence said.
“... A pleasure,” the ailing man replied.
Chapter Thirteen
“Will you perhaps ensure my bedchamber is quite ready, Emma? It’s been an exhausting day, and I’ve little time to see to it myself. I’ve someone I still need to meet,” Anne said, her heart still brimming with a gleam of struggling hope. Dressed now in a soft white gown as the sun fell over the horizon, bluish-orange streaking through the sky, Anne made haste through the mazelike halls of the estate, forging a path back to the foyer, and the dining hall - where she hoped to see the duke once more, perhaps share a kiss, before the night ended. Just behind the flowing white gown and still-damp, warm body of Anne hurried along a young girl with hair of bushy-blonde, dressed in a loose white dress clean and spotless. A girl of around Anne’s age, Emma bore the countenance and knowledge of a girl who had grown in much less welcoming circumstances than Anne had, and thus Anne had a strange regard for the girl’s insights, even if she had a meek manner about her.
“M-m’lady, I hope it is not terribly improper for me to ask,” the serving-girl responded, her cheeks blushing bright, “but... the man in the dining hall, meeting with the viscount, w-was that the man who—” Emma hurried along behind Anne, nearly out of breath with how quickly Anne made her way through the halls. “The man who’s interested in courting you? Lawrence Strauss, the Duke of Amhurst?”
“You know his name, do you?” Anne joked.
“Th-the viscount had a meeting with the man, and I had a curiosity, so I suppose I eavesdropped,” Emma blushed. “I hope that’s not entirely outrageous, m’lady.”
“What do you think of him?” Anne asked, looking back with a blush.
“He’s— he’s so handsome! I’ve never seen a noble with a face, or features, like that, not any around here, at least,” Emma exclaimed, full of surprise. “Do you think he’s handsome, m’lady? Any noblewoman among the moors would be envious of you, having a man such as that.”
“Yes, he’s far nicer to look upon than the normal sort of buck-teeth, cheap suit-wearing, wormish men one tends to find among the manors and dinner banquets around these parts,” Anne commented wryly. “That, or the portly, blustery fools and the insufferable, womanizing rakes.”
“Your father, when I was a little girl, he was the most handsome noble I had ever seen, but I think this man, the duke? I think perhaps even more handsome,” Emma chattered. They rounded a corner and Anne breathed deeply, tense as to what may wait for her beyond. Emma came quickly after her, hoping excitedly for a brief gossip session with the lady of the estate before she left to attend to whatever business demanded her attention. Instead, Anne quickly and quite bluntly asked her own question.
“Emma, pardon the particularly personal query, but,” Anne tapped her chin curiously, “have you ever been intimate with a man before?” Emma giggled loudly, her cheeks blossoming in a bright burst of cherry-red embarrassment.
“M-m’lady! I’m...” she gasped, covering her lips. “I’m not... certain, if I am meant to answer that question, or if it’s s... simply...”
“You can answer as you will, Emma, but in honesty I admire your freedom, and what insight you can offer, and of course I’d never hold your answer against you,” Anne assured her.
“Y... yes, m’lady, I’ve been intimate with men, before,” the serving girl responded coyly.
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Emma. You’re a grown woman, and you’re free to find men handsome and interesting, I certainly wouldn’t hold it against you, lest I be guilty of same terrible crime,” Anne joked. She could feel her anxiety in her chest beginning to torment her. “I have a... query,” she continued hesitantly, “about... the first man you were intimate with. How often did you interact with him after?”
