Chapter 9

Anastasia hurried to keep up with Camilla. They were shopping on Bond Street, with Rachel to chaperone them. The window displaying the exquisitely lovely gown that she had paused to admire quickly receded from view as Anastasia traversed the thoroughfare with all due haste.

She was trying not to draw attention to herself while at the same time hurrying to catch Camilla and Rachel, who had not even noticed that she had fallen behind.

"Anastasia! Oh!" Camilla gasped in surprise as Anastasia stepped neatly up beside her. "You scared me. You're breathless. I'm so sorry. Did you have to hurry?"

Anastasia drew in a breath and grinned, nodding. "I did. The fault was mine...I stopped to look at that pretty dress back there. I wanted to see the fabric it was made from."

Camilla grinned. "I should have guessed."

They shared a smile. Anastasia's tendency to be caught up by things that other people barely noticed—and not to notice things that were obvious—was a constant source of delight and teasing.

"There is the mercer's shop. We must make haste."

Anastasia nodded. "It's almost three o' clock," she agreed. They had arranged with Camilla's mother that the coach would return for them at five o' clock, and that gave them two hours to choose and purchase fabric for Camilla's new gown, to find a pair of gloves and a bonnet for both of them, and then, perhaps, to stop for tea. They would have to be quick.

They walked briskly down the pavement. The draper's shop that Camilla liked best was just fifty yards or so away from where they were, and they strode hurriedly down towards it.

"Oh! Observe, a shoemaker's establishment," Camilla remarked as they hastened by a window. "Was that in existence previously?"

"I don't recall," Anastasia said, feeling a little out-of-breath.

She tensed, thinking that Camilla might stop to look through the window, even though they had no intention of buying shoes.

"Let's hurry!" Camilla exclaimed. "That's the bell."

The church bells rang, revealing the time. It was exactly three o' clock.

Anastasia let out a louder laugh than she would usually give as they strode down the pavement, trying to be as quick as possible without actually running. Running would be unseemly for young ladies, but the peculiar stride they had adopted to move fast was probably even funnier and more ungainly than running would have been. The thought amused her as she raced ahead.

"We must seem remarkably foolish!" she exclaimed, striding along as fast as she could beside Camilla, who was stepping briskly forward, both of them doing the closest they could safely do to a run.

"Yes! I suppose so!" Camilla agreed, panting with exertion. They were getting closer to the shop and as they walked briskly, a gentleman stepped into the street from an office. Anastasia shrieked and Camilla did likewise.

"Oh!"

Anastasia gaped up at the gentleman, and then her eyes widened in astonishment.

It was the Duke of Willowick.

"Your Grace," she murmured, swiftly dropping into a curtsey. Beside her, Camilla did likewise. Camilla stared up at the duke, her eyes wide, clearly frightened by his many scars.

"Ladies." The duke bowed low. He was wearing a black tailcoat, a high-collared white shirt and a simple cravat. His black trousers were spotless, and he wore black riding boots with them, and a black top-hat. He lifted his hat, his expression reserved.

"We were hurrying to the shop. I apologise," Anastasia said swiftly. He looked upset and she wished that she had avoided almost walking into him.

"We only have two hours," Camilla agreed. "And we need to buy fabric and hats and gloves. We're on our way to the draper's."

Anastasia glanced at Camilla, surprised by how flustered she was.

"We didn't see you," Anastasia added.

To her surprise, his lips lifted in a smile.

"That was fairly self-evident," he replied, but his grin took the sarcasm from his words.

Anastasia chuckled. "I suppose so. Unless you assume that we go around running full tilt into fellow shoppers for the fun of it, that is."

His grin broadened. "Or that. Yes." He chuckled.

Anastasia glanced sideways at Camilla, who was staring first at her and then at the duke as though they had begun to speak a foreign language.

"May I introduce my friend, Lady Camilla?" Anastasia asked politely. "She is the daughter of Viscount Bramley."

"Charmed," the duke said, surprisingly politely. He bowed low.

"Camilla, may I introduce the Duke of Willowick?" Anastasia asked. Camilla dropped a low curtsey.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," she murmured.

Anastasia smiled at Camilla, seeing that she was decidedly awkward, her glance moving to the door of the shop and back again as though she wanted to run inside.

"Can you see aught you like?" she asked Camilla, gesturing to the window. She wanted to put her friend at ease, and yet she could not—quite—bring herself to suggest that they go into the shop. The duke's smile lit her mood, his green eyes sending a spark down her spine in a way that she did not understand. She felt happy having seen him.

"Um...that one," Camilla replied. She was gesturing towards a roll at the back. "I think I will go inside and ask the draper about it." She was practically begging to go inside.

Anastasia cleared her throat. "I..."

"Shall we all go in?" the duke asked.

Anastasia gaped at him in amazement. He was smiling at her, a little shyly, but in all other respects he was acting as though it was perfectly ordinary to visit the draper's shop with people with whom one was barely acquainted.

"I need to purchase some fabric for the tailor," he said a little awkwardly. "I need some new clothes that are not...well, that are not black." He gestured to his outfit. Anastasia inclined her head.

"Of course," she replied at once. "Then, do join us, I implore you."

He was changing out of his mourning clothes. That could only be good, she thought happily—perhaps he had recovered a little from his grief.

He grinned, his posture shifting as if he was relieved. "Thank you."

Her heart thudded as he stood back for Camilla and herself to enter the shop. Camilla went first, hurrying into the shop. Anastasia went next. Her heart thudded as she walked past the duke. He was just an inch away from the door frame and her skirt rustled against him as she went in. Her cheeks reddened, though she could not say why.

The duke followed them in, and then Rachel came in immediately after him. They all stood together in the center of the room. Anastasia tried to focus on the rolls of fabric, ignoring the man who stood beside her, not six inches away, but it was hard. She was aware of his presence as though he was a beacon of warmth and light, each part of her skin sensing he was there without her looking.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace. My ladies." The proprietor, a woman at least ten years Anastasia's senior, greeted them as she emerged from a workroom. "What may I do for you?"

Anastasia glanced up at the duke, but he was silent, waiting for Camilla and herself.

"I need fabric for an evening gown," Camilla said after glancing awkwardly at Anastasia and the duke.

"Of course, my lady. Anything in particular?" The proprietor asked, smiling warmly at Camilla. Camilla was a regular customer, and Anastasia often came with her. "Silk, or velvet? Something light for summer?"

Camilla nodded. "I would like a thin silk. Have you any brocaded silks?"

"I have! I happen to have some new stock. A beautiful white brocade, just arrived this morning."

Anastasia followed Camilla as she and the proprietor walked across the shop. Rachel went with them. She glanced sideways over her shoulder at the duke, who was standing in the center of the shop, looking around awkwardly.

"And here are some patterned muslins...so modish," the proprietor was saying as she led them past the rolls upon rolls of fabric that lined the shop. Camilla stopped briefly to look at a muslin patterned with leaves, and then they went on to where the silks were. Anastasia glanced around, her eyes widening at the beautiful fabrics she saw there. Rolls of silk of all sorts of shades stood around—pale ones, bright ones and dark ones. The proprietor was looking at a roll of white silk with a pattern of white roses. Camilla lifted a piece of it admiringly.

"...and I would need enough for a dress with a fuller skirt," Camilla was saying. Anastasia allowed her glance to move from her friend to the man who was standing in the center of the shop. He was gazing across at the rolls of fabric with a faraway stare. As she glanced over, his gaze moved to her. His green eyes held hers.

Anastasia felt her heart thudding. His stare was so striking. She barely noticed the scars when his eyes locked with hers. They were there, undoubtedly, thick lines across his face that made her long to know their origin. But when she stared into that green gaze, all she thought of was how handsome he was.

Her cheeks reddened.

"Perhaps you can assist me?" the duke asked, making Anastasia stiffen in surprise. She had not expected him to speak. He looked so awkward in the shop that she had expected he would ignore them all, but his voice was level and confident, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips.

"Of course. If it is possible for me to do so," Anastasia added. He grinned.

"I think it is possible. You certainly are more well-schooled in the matters of fabric than me." His brow lifted. "I require some advice. Should I need to purchase fabrics for an evening coat, what fabric would I require?"

Anastasia blinked in surprise. "Well..." she paused, thinking. "Velvet is always a fine choice. And brocade, too, perhaps, for a less restrained look? Mayhap a fine wool blend, though that would be better for the daytime..." she paused. His eyes widened.

"Velvet," he said decidedly. He raised a brow. "That was quite comprehensive."

She giggled. "Thank you. Growing up mostly in London, I suppose one learns a lot." The family had spent almost as much time in London as out of it for as long as she could recall. Papa did not just go to Town for the parliamentary season, but also for business ventures.

"You must have paid a great deal of attention," the duke said, his eyes holding her own.

"Not really." She giggled. "In truth, I am often the subject of jest for my lack of attentiveness. I find myself continually diverted by one thing or another." She looked down, a little self-consciously.

"That is the opposite of not paying attention." His voice was firm, surprising her. "Noticing small details shows a keen eye. It is a trait of great value. Especially in artists."

Anastasia swallowed hard. His words were not flippant, but deadly serious. He sounded far more sincere than he had throughout their lighthearted talk.

"Thank you," she murmured. Camilla and her other friends teased her often about her tendency to get distracted. The duke was the first person she had met who thought it was more than just amusing.

"It is no less than the truth," he said softly.

Anastasia gazed up at him. His voice was gentle and the sound of it stroked across her skin. She stared into his eyes, and he stared back. His gaze held hers. Anastasia's heart thumped rapidly in her chest.

"Anastasia?" Camilla's voice called. "Would you be so kind as to assist me in making a choice?"

***

Anastasia blinked and turned around slowly. She felt dazed. The look that the duke leveled at her was compelling and it drew her in, making it impossible to look away or to think of anything else. Her cheeks blushing furiously, she looked away.

"Yes, Camilla?" She called. "What are you deciding about?"

"These two." Camilla strode around the side of the shelf. She barely glanced at the duke, who was five or six yards behind Anastasia. Anastasia did not turn around to see if he looked at them or not. "The brocaded silk, or the pink one?" She held up two pieces of fabric, which were attached to rolls that the proprietor had moved to lean against the nearby worktable.

"Um..." Anastasia tilted her head, considering. Her heart was thudding and all she could think about was the duke, who was still there in the shop behind her. "Um...mayhap the brocade? You don't have any in brocaded silk, as I seem to remember?" It was hard to concentrate. Every part of her was aware of the duke, her skin seeming to sense his gaze on her from across the room.

"Grand!" Camilla grinned, seeming pleased. "I thought the same. Well, then. I will take the brocaded silk. If you could measure the correct amount for an evening dress?" Camilla asked, turning to the proprietor.

"Of course, my lady. If you should require gauze or ribbon, we have a counter of ribbon over there..." she gestured.

Camilla wandered over and Anastasia followed her slowly. As she did, she was aware of the duke moving over to speak to the proprietor. He was speaking too softly for her to hear, and she tried to focus on Camilla and the ribbons she was looking at. Her mind kept on wandering to the duke, trying to listen.

"I think this might do for the waistband and for the sleeves, to edge them?" Camilla was asking, lifting up a thin satin ribbon in white.

"I think so," Anastasia replied, touching the soft, silky fabric that Camilla indicated.

Camilla carried the ribbon over to the proprietor so that she could measure out and cut a piece of it for her. Anastasia stood where she was, gazing at the ribbon. She was aware of the duke coming over to join her.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Your advice was helpful."

"Thank you," Anastasia murmured. "I am pleased that I could help." She felt a flush move into her cheeks, which were already hot with blushing. She looked down at her feet, a lump in her throat from the strange, shy tension she felt whenever he stood nearby.

"I was pleased to discover you here." He bowed low.

Anastasia swallowed hard. The words were not particularly romantic or unusual, and yet they sent tingles down her spine—sweet, pleasurable tingles.

"It was pleasant," she managed. Her throat felt impossibly tight, as though it was suddenly too narrow for speaking and breathing at once.

"Good day," he murmured. He lifted his hat. Anastasia noticed that Camilla was walking briskly over, a bundle of fabric in her arms. Rachel was walking with her, holding another bundle.

"Do you need to purchase something?" Camilla asked Anastasia, her gaze a little confused as it wandered to the duke.

"No," Anastasia said softly. She had not planned to purchase anything. Part of her wanted to stay, just so that she could stay with the duke, while the rest of her felt too confused to wish to be longer in his presence, since it caused her such floods of feelings that she felt quite baffled.

"Well, then!" Camilla smiled. "We shall go. We bid you a pleasant day shopping." She added to the duke. He bowed low.

"Thank you, Lady Camilla. Thank you, Lady Anastasia," he added. Anastasia felt her cheeks flood with heat when he said her name, though, again, she could not imagine why it should have such a strange effect. His voice was low and resonant, certainly pleasant to listen to, but that did not account for why it seemed to resonate in every part of her, nor why her heart thudded wildly in her chest.

"I say!" Camilla exclaimed when they were perhaps fifty yards from the shop. "He was...quite taken with you."

"Camilla!" Anastasia flapped a hand at her, grinning widely. "No, he wasn't. He just wanted some advice about fabric for a jacket."

"Yes. Yes, certainly." Camilla beamed. "And it couldn't just be an excuse to talk."

"No!" Anastasia laughed, but her heart soared with delight at the thought. "No. He really wanted to buy some fabric."

"Yes. I believe you." Camilla grinned.

Anastasia flushed and looked away.

They went to the milliners for bonnets and stopped to look at a shop that sold gloves. By the time they had completed their purchases, they had to hurry to the park, where the coach was waiting to collect them.

As the coach rattled down the street, taking Rachel and herself back to her family's townhouse, Anastasia found her thoughts wandering to the duke. Camilla could not be right—he was a quiet, respectable man and there was no reason for her to think he was taken with her, as Camilla had said.

But then, she thought, wonderingly, he had sought her out to speak to and come into the shop with them when he could easily have waited.

Her lips lifted in a grin at the thought. Perhaps he really had enjoyed talking as much as she had.

Nonsense, she told herself silently. He just wants to buy new clothes now that he is out of mourning again.

She frowned, wondering how long he had been in mourning. There was so much she did not know. And, oddly, she longed to know, to ask him the answers.

You're being silly, she told herself crossly. You have no reason for any interest besides a polite, friendly sort of curiosity.

She tried to put the conversation out of her mind and focus on the time with Camilla, but the chat with the duke circled around her mind again and again and she could not stop herself from smiling to herself all the way back to the house.