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It both warmed his heart and made him feel sick to think that he had allowed her to see any part of his weakness in all that had happened over the last few weeks.
“You are concerned over your marriage to the St Clair girl, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked when Anthony made no attempt to say anything. Her question caused his hackles to rise immediately, and he straightened up in his chair, clasping his hands together with his elbows perched on the arms of his seat.
“Whether or not that is true, it is my concern and not your own,” Anthony insisted. “I am the big brother here, and it is for me to worry about.”
“Oh, Anthony, you must know that you do not need to shoulder all the worry,” Elizabeth insisted. She slipped further into her perch, drawing closer to the desk and him, making him feel uncomfortable because the closer she got, the harder it was for him to hide the emotions creating a storm deep inside him.
He had been throwing himself into work, focusing on fixing problems rather than thinking about his impending marriage. At least, he had been attempting to, and yet here he was, on the eve of the day when he would travel to London to meet his betrothed. And he realised that he was entirely unprepared.
“What am I to do if she is ugly?” he blurted. He bit his lip the moment the words were out because he wasn’t at all sure how his sister would react to such things. She surprised him beyond measure.
“If she is ugly, you only need see her to provide an heir, and then you may live your separate lives,” Elizabeth said almost heartlessly, her expression unreadable. Then, a smile spread across her face, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out between her pink lips before adding, “That is what practically all nobles do, is it not?”
Anthony cringed not only because he was certain she was right, at least for the nobles who were forced into arranged marriages such as his own, but also because he realised that was the last thing he ever wanted.
Though he had never really imagined himself getting married, he couldn’t imagine that if he did, he would ever be happy with anything less than a true and lasting love. After all, a marriage was for life, and he did not wish to be stuck with someone he loathed.
How am I to find that in an arranged marriage?he asked himself, but he realised deep down that it no longer mattered. The stones were cast, and the decision had already been made. He was to marry the St Clair girl whether he liked it or not.
“Besides, from what I have heard, the St Clair girl is very beautiful,” Elizabeth insisted when Anthony remained silent, “I have heard that …”
“Stop!” Anthony snapped, raising a hand to stop his sister from saying another word. “I do not need to hear what you have heard. I do not wish to build a picture in my mind only for it to be knocked down upon meeting her.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to protest before closing it again. She nodded, a look of understanding washing over her pale face that was so like his own that people often mistook them for twins.
Will she be like Elizabeth? Calm and collected and intelligent? Or will she be like Emily?Anthony thought, gazing at his sister, who seemed to have got the message that he did not wish to talk about Lady St Clair for a moment longer.God forbid that she should ever be like Emily,he realised.
Though he loved his little sister very much, he wasn’t sure he could ever deal with a wife who was entirely reckless, loud, and almost uncontrollable. Even with the new tutors and instructors that Mr Patterson had advised him to get for his sisters to ensure they had a smooth transition into life as sisters of a duke, Emily was still having a hard time of being a lady.
Elizabeth pushed herself up using the arms of her chair and hovered there for a moment with her hands still perched on the seat as she assured him, “I am sure that no matter what she looks like or how she behaves, you will make the best of whatever the situation. You always do, brother.”
Anthony was most surprised when his sister walked around the desk and took hold of his face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the forehead and smiled warmly at him. “I am well aware of just how much you do for us, and I am grateful that you have taken such good care of Emily and me for all these years.”
Surprised to tears, Anthony struggled to hold them back and reached up to grip his sister’s hands. He squeezed them and kissed her fingers, remembering the last time they had shared such an affectionate moment when she had been little more than twelve years old and he had been preparing to begin his time in the Royal Army.
“I would not change it for the world,” he assured her, knowing without a doubt that whatever he was forced to do, he would do it with the knowledge that his sisters would always be safe.
He quickly reminded himself once more of the prospects his sisters would have if he were to manage to keep not only the title of duke but also the estate that came with it if he were to marry the St Clair girl and open a whole other network of connections that one day both his sisters might call upon when they finally set their eyes on a man they wished to marry.
“Life has not always been easy for us.” Anthony sighed and squeezed his sister’s hands to his lips, kissing her fingers again. “But from now on, things will be different.”
“Of course, they shall.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him and inclined her head towards the room. “Just look at where we are!”
Anthony couldn’t help smiling, realising that his sister was right.I never intended to marry in the first place,he reminded himself firmly,if a ring and a piece of paper are all it takes to keep my family safe, then so be it.He would handle the rest as it came to him. Providing an heir would be the least of his worries.
After all, Mr Patterson had managed to find him. Surely he could find a distant cousin to put into his will.Maybe I could even add a clause about caring for my sisters should anything happen to me,he thought, his strategic brain finally kicking in now that Elizabeth had allowed him to get some pent-up stress out.
“All will be well, brother,” Elizabeth assured him as though she saw the relief on his face. “I promise you.”
Chapter 8
When Penelope awoke the next morning, it was not the rocking of a ship that roused her with nausea but the sound of someone rapping their knuckles on wood. Disoriented for a moment, thinking that perhaps her trip across to England had been nothing but a dream, and that Betsy was knocking on her bedroom door back in France to ensure she was getting ready for the morning chores, Penelope instinctively called, "Come in!"
As her wits returned to her, Penelope realised she couldn't have been more wrong. Stretching her legs, she felt the soft satin bedsheets caressing her bare flesh along with the soft material of the brand-new chemise that Mrs Cartwright had collected from storage when Penelope had guiltily lied that her belongings would be following upon the next ship along with her mother.
She had been silently praying that the St Clairs would not arrive before she had a chance to get miles away from the Duke of Chatham's residence.
In fact, she had intended to be risen well before the household staff and on her way before anyone was the wiser, but the moment the door was pushed open, creating a chink of light in the otherwise darkened room, Penelope knew that the sun had risen.
