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“Yes,” Mrs Cartwright practically purred, “and soon we shall be at Chatham House, and you can bathe, eat, and rest until the duke’s arrival.”
Penelope had spent so long thinking on how to escape that the idea of a warm meal and a place to rest took her by surprise.
“You said the duke shall arrive over the next few days?” Penelope asked, wondering how long she might actually have before she was forced to leave.
“Yes, I shan’t imagine it will be too long before he arrives with his sisters,” Mrs Cartwright assured her with a friendly smile and a nod of her head. “Lady Elizabeth and Lady Emily are most excited to meet you.”
Penelope cringed inwardly at that. The thought of ever meeting another noble lady again made her feel sick to her stomach. Lady Cecily and Lady Clara had been enough to last her a lifetime, and if she never saw them again, it would be too soon.
“As am I to meet them.” Penelope smirked, deciding it was best to play along just a little while longer. Bathing, a warm meal, and a good night’s sleep were exactly what she needed to decide what to do next. She would be well on her way before anyone realised she was not who she claimed to be, well before the duke and his sisters arrived.
At least, I hope so,she prayed, closing her eyes to rest a little as the carriage bouncing on the uneven cobblestone terrain made her feel sleepy. Mrs Cartwright seemed to sense her exhaustion, and to Penelope’s relief, did not try to speak to her anymore.
For several moments she was alone with her thoughts, wondering what could possibly happen if the duke were to turn up while she was still around, but then exhaustion overwhelmed her, and her mind grew blank even though she could not allow sleep to take her entirely.
Chapter 7
The grandfather clock in his study seemed to tick even louder than ever. A painful reminder that time was rapidly ticking away, his impending torture drawing closer and closer. Soon he would be forced to travel to London to meet the woman he was to marry and spend the rest of his miserable life with.
It was all he could think about as he pawed over the final documents for all the debts he had managed to pay off with the first half of the dowry that Comte St Clair had sent ahead of his niece’s arrival.
Looking at all the receipts and piles of unpaid warning letters that were no longer redundant, Anthony realised one thing for certain. Although the idea of this marriage was abhorrent to him, he would go through with it. After seeing just how happy his sisters were and having been able to pay off most of the debt his distant cousin had left him, he was now entirely indebted to the St Clairs.
“I am a man of my word,” he reminded himself aloud, a deep sigh ripping from his throat as he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a moment to decompress.
Though the hour was growing late, he could hear the happy laughter of his sisters in the parlour across the hall as they shared the news of the day without him. They had tried to drag him in there after dinner, but Anthony had listened to enough gossip and was in no mood for more small talk.
All he could think about was what would happen the next day. All he could see when he closed his eyes was an image of a faceless woman, a noblewoman he was being forced to marry, a woman who might be as ugly as sin and boring.
No, no, I mustn’t think like that,he scolded himself, attempting to turn his full attention back to the plans he had been making over the last several weeks. Though he had managed to find a solution to his debt problems, he was still trying to figure out all the kinks in his plans, a way of making the estates profitable so that he would never again find himself in such a situation.
How can I support my sisters and a wife if I cannot do so?he asked himself. Even if his betrothed had been the one to get him out of his current debts, he would not go to her and grovel for her or her family’s help in the future.
He had already decided that he would never allow her to know where her dowry had been spent, never allow her to know the hardship that she and her wealth had got him and his family out of. Once again, he realised that it was a good job he had never shared those problems with his sisters.
He was just scribbling a few ideas down on a piece of paper when the sounds of laughter across the hall slowly died, and he heard the sound of heeled shoes clicking on the marble floor outside the door.
First, one set of footsteps wandered past and became muffled by the wooden steps of the staircase as someone made their way up to their bedroom. Then the second set grew louder and louder still, stopping abruptly when Anthony saw a shadow fall across the lanternlight coming beneath the closed door.
Knuckles rapped on the wood, and even before he could call for the person to enter, the door creaked as it was opened just enough for a head to pop around the corner. Dark-haired, brown-eyed Elizabeth smiled at him with her slender fingers gripping the edge of the door as she asked, “May I come in?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Anthony responded. Though he was in no mood to talk, he always had time for his sisters, and he was never able to turn them away, especially when their expression was as Elizabeth’s was now.
She appeared quite concerned, and the expression tugged on Anthony’s heart, making it impossible for him to deny her. “Are you well? Do come in and have a seat.”
Elizabeth entered and turned to gently click the door closed before crossing the room to take a seat in the armchair across from his desk. The fire crackled in the hearth behind him, yet Anthony was suddenly freezing cold, feeling as though his concern for his sister had drained all the heat from his body.
“Yes, yes, I am well,” Elizabeth insisted, “though I am concerned for you, dear brother.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head. “Why ever would you be concerned for me, sweet sister.”
Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair, offering him a raised eyebrow of her own before scowling as though she were his mother and was about to scold him. “Do not try to speak to me as though I am Emily. I may be younger than you, but I am older than her, and I can see you, brother.”
“I would hope that you can,” Anthony responded, allowing a little humour to enter his tone, though his sister did not look best pleased by it. She cocked her head slightly to the side and continued to scowl at him.
“Anthony, that is the first time I have heard you even attempt to crack a joke for weeks,” Elizabeth explained to him. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched him, looking as though she was examining him closely for something that she might be able to use against him. “I am worried about you, brother.”
He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from snapping at his sister that he was the oldest sibling and so the only one with permission to worry about anything. He could see from her expression that she wasn’t merely talking as though she was worried but that she was actually deeply concerned for him.
