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“I am sure it is,” Anastasia replied. “His Grace has a reputation about him, but he is not cruel or unreasonable. He only did this, so I can preserve my name and honor. I can only conjecture that he thinks he has nothing to lose, but I do.”
“Are you saying he is being honorable?” Victoria frowned. “Or is he taking advantage of you?”
“I’d ask the same question, dear.” Aunt Elizabeth came into the room, fixing her monocle and taking a chair. “I cannot find a crack in His Grace’s stoic face to hint at one or the other.”
“Should not his word be enough?” Anastasia asked.
“Not with a man like that.” Her aunt reached for the morning paper. “Matter of fact, most men overall. You will have to start listening with your eyes, dear.”
“As much that makes sense, Aunt,” Anastasia replied. “He never gave me soft and tender flattery, and by the lack of those, does the underlying meaning of currying favor by disguising any villainous intent be rendered null and void.”
“All I am saying, dear, is not everything is as it seems,” Aunt Elizabeth replied while shaking the Time’s paper and with her voice calm as befitting a lady read the latest gossip on Anastasia and Gabriel’s courtship.
After a moment, the Dowager folded the paper. “Well, that is better than I had hoped.”
“What do you mean, Aunt?”
“They could have flayed your character,” Victoria replied, “but since they do not know enough about you, you were left unsinged. But beware, the vultures will be circling.”
“Where is Miss Fletcher?” Victoria asked while setting her teacup down.
“She’s resting,” Anastasia replied.
Over the past month, she had been surprised to find her cousin slept in until nine in the morning, took a nap at noon, and went out at six almost every day with her friends, a group of women Anastasia did not particularly like.
They were nice and polite enough, but she could not help but feel their judgmental gazes on the back of her neck.
“But at one?” Victoria gaped.
“I believe she says she must have her beauty sleep,” Anastasia replied. “She is out nearly every evening; moreover, we went to bed late this morning.”
“Speaking of which,” Aunt Elizabeth said, “I shall remind cook to send up a few of her tarts with blackberry jam for dear Margaret.”
As her aunt left, Victoria leaned in. “Did you see your cousin’s face after you danced with His Grace, before all the other kerfuffle, I mean? She was positively blue with envy.”
Reaching for the paper, Anastasia replied, “I would imagine a lot of the other ladies would have been so, too. He told me I was the only he had partnered with that night.”
Victoria sighed dreamily. “That is a compliment in itself. Oh, how I wish someone would do the same for me.”
“What would you like in a suitor?” Anastasia asked.
“Handsome, honest and humble,” Victoria said wryly. “The last two would rule out half of the lords in London, I suppose.”
“Oh, you might never know,” Anastasia replied. “His Grace is starkly forthright.”
Victoria wrinkled her nose, “But he is a rakehell, god forbid I ever land in the hands one of them!”
“If I ever had to court a wallflower, I would be getting foxed at two in the afternoon as well,” David said as he drew out a seat across from Gabriel.
“Miss Porter is not a wallflower,” Gabriel swirled his brandy. “She is beautiful and has a mind sharp enough to cut anyone else to shreds. She is just quiet in the presence of others.”
“She is still a meek little mouse, and you know it,” David said.
Hidden in a darkened alcove at White’s, Gabriel nursed a drink and decided to ignore his friend.
“Remind me to say those words when you find your bride,” Gabriel replied.
“It’s been three days since the ball,” David asked. “Why have you not gone to see the lady at all?”
