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For so long, they had been in the same boat, neither of them knowing what lay ahead, neither of them able to imagine what kind of person they might be entering into marriage with. And now Anthony sat here, admiring everything about the young lady that fate had chosen for him, and he hadn’t even thought about one simple fact.What if she does not find me pleasing?
“Your Grace, I …” Lady Rose began, but she cut herself off, her lips pursing, and it was clear to see that she was trying desperately to come up with a response.
“You do not need to say anything yet,” Anthony assured her with a shake of his head. He reached out and took hold of his wine glass, giving himself a moment to drink and clear his throat before he explained, “I shall take care of everything, and in the meantime, we shall have enough time to get to know one another. Yet, forgive me for saying so My Lady, I cannot help feeling as though there is something …”
He cut off, trying to find the correct word.
“I cannot help feeling there is something different between us.”
Even once he had said it, he still didn’t believe he had found the right word. Seeing the way the young lady’s gaze darkened, Anthony feared for a moment that he had got it wrong, that she would not feel the same way. But then her gaze lightened once more, and in the flickering candlelight of the dining room, she smiled at him warmly.
“I believe you are right, Your Grace.”
Relief washed over Anthony so violently that it threatened to sweep him right out of his chair. His heart skipped several beats and left him feeling entirely breathless. He had never imagined the conversation could go so well, especially not during their first meeting.
Am I entirely insane?he asked himself, wondering not for the first time how his mind could possibly have changed so remarkably in a matter of hours. For weeks he had been anticipating this moment; for weeks he had been trying to figure out alternative ways to get out of this marriage and still hold on to all the land, title, and everything else that came along with being a duke.
And yet now that he was faced with the beautiful Lady Rose, he couldn’t help feeling that everything had suddenly fallen into place.
“Your Grace, might I ask you something?” Lady Rose asked, speaking up for what felt like the first time without his prompting. Looking up from where he had dropped his gaze to his empty plate, he found the lady looking at him with a delicately raised eyebrow.
“Anything,” he said, breathing the word with a smile.
“Are … are you pleased with my presence here?”
Chapter 10
Penelope felt like the biggest of fools. Worse, she felt like an imposter. How could she ever have been stupid enough to ask the duke whether her presence there pleased him? Of course, he would say yes; he practically had to.
After all, as far as he knew, she was Lady St Clair, the woman he was betrothed to marry. And from what she had experienced of him, Lord Chatham was far too much of a gentleman to admit anything but the fact that he was mightily pleased at her presence.
And so, that night, after a long and oddly pleasing dinner at the duke’s table, Penelope lay abed feeling like the worst person in the world. Ever since their meeting out on the pavement that afternoon, she had been trying to come up with a way of telling the duke the truth.
She had promised herself that she would. She even tried to do it the moment they entered the house, away from prying eyes, and yet his sisters had been there, and she could not bring herself to embarrass him in front of them.
Even when she had found herself alone with him at dinner, she had been unable to allow herself to do it. She had thought of it over and over again, even allowed the words to bubble up on her tongue, but every time that she felt like she was going to blurt them out, the duke would say something sweet or endearing, and she would quickly close her mouth once more before she could do more harm than good.
After all, what would happen if she did tell him the truth? At best, he would call the authorities and have her arrested for her ‘crimes’. At worst, he would return her to France and her master, the Comte, where she would be stuck with no hope of ever escaping the St Clair family.
She lay in bed, tossing and turning as she thought over the web of lies slowly accumulating, tightening its grip on her until she felt as though she could barely breathe. Even more concerning was that on meeting her, Lord Chatham had almost immediately decided to bring the wedding forward.
Penelope was at a loss about whether she should take it as a compliment. For all she knew, he wanted to get it over with so he might never have to look at her again. Who knew why nobles did what they did, why they chose to marry others of similar rank for connections and reputation over love.
It was absolutely beyond Penelope, and yet here she was, wondering,Why did you give him your mother’s name?
She wasn’t entirely sure why, but it had felt wrong to be called Clara, and her mother’s had been the first name that had popped into her head after her own. She couldn’t have very well given him that just in case the Comte had already sent word after her that one of his maids had absconded with the ticket meant for his true bride-to-be.
Penelope insisted to herself though there was a clawing in her gut that told her she was an idiot for trying to tell herself this wasn’t entirely her fault. She had got herself into this mess, and she had to get herself out of it.
So far, it had been much easier to just go with the flow and agree to everything that everyone said, coming up with quick answers on the spot whenever she was forced to. But she knew very well that soon her luck would run out and one way or another, she would be forced to give up the truth.
That or I shall have to try to run again,she told herself. Yet she was all too aware that it would be ten times more difficult than it had been to escape France, even more difficult than it had been to escape Mrs Cartwright.
The duke had brought with him a whole host of extra servants, not to mention those that also came along with his two beautiful and quite lovely sisters. She could not begrudge them all that they had, but she could loathe the fact that with all the extra people in the household, she was going to have an even worse time trying to get away.
Determined that she had to find a way of doing it, Penelope finally gave up trying to sleep in the all too comfortable bed she had been assigned from the moment she set foot in the townhouse and clambered off the mattress to shove her feet into her slippers – the slippers that had been meant for Clara St Clair’s feet.
A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece across the room told her that it was even later than she had anticipated, and she quickly thought,everyone must be abed now.
