Chapter 15

Anastasia gazed out of the window. It was a week since the ball, and she had been nowhere except to Gunter's with Lord Ridley once and to tea with one of Mama's friends. She had hoped that they might spot the duke somewhere, but so far, she had not seen him.

"I wish that Papa gave him permission instead," she said in the silent drawing room. Papa was out at the club and Mama and Lily had gone to a shop in town to buy fabric for new gowns. The house was quiet, and the duke filled her thoughts. She recalled his smile when they waltzed at the ball, the way his green eyes gazed into hers. She remembered the joy of dancing with him. He was a fine dancer. She wondered what had happened—how he had been so terribly scarred. She wished she had thought about asking, but when she was with him the scars never even entered her thoughts. She so enjoyed his quick wit and ready comments that the scars were the last thing that drew her notice.

"My lady?" the butler murmured, interrupting her restless mind.

"Yes? What is it, Mr. Shipley?" she asked politely.

"Lady Camilla is here, my lady. Shall I show her in?"

"Oh! Please do!" Anastasia grinned happily. She had almost completely forgotten that Camilla was to call on her. They were practicing a piece for Mama's musicale that was to take place the day after tomorrow. They had almost perfected it, but they both wished to rehearse several more times before the night, and so Camilla had arranged to call on her to practice.

"At once, my lady." He bowed low.

"Anastasia!" Camilla greeted her delightedly. She was wearing a blue dress, her rose-scented perfume a familiar smell as she ran lightly across the room to embrace her friend.

"Camilla." Anastasia wrapped her arms around her friend in a firm hug. "I am so glad you are here."

"Me, too!" Camilla grinned. "I'm excited about our piece, too. I want to try something new."

"Of course," Anastasia agreed at once. She stood, flexing her fingers. She had rested them that morning, since they had practiced wildly the previous day, so much so that she had worried that Camilla would hurt her throat or that she herself might strain something. They had to be careful, Mama had teased, or they would not be able to perform at all at the musical evening.

"Let's begin!" Camilla said excitedly as Anastasia sat down at the pianoforte. She reached for the music book; the pages of their song well marked. She rested her hands for a moment on her skirts, which were white muslin decorated with a pattern of tiny flowers. Then she began.

Camilla's voice soared as she began to sing after the short introduction that Anastasia played. Anastasia was dimly aware that her finger hurt a little from having practiced too hard the previous morning, but as the piece progressed, she forgot about it, enjoying the sound of Camilla's voice and the way the soaring harmonies blended with the notes that she played. She loved music whether she was dancing or whether she was listening or playing it.

They reached the concluding section and Anastasia grinned up at Camilla, who was definitely performing it a little differently. She was holding the low notes for longer and the effect was beautiful. Camilla grinned back.

"Whew!" she let out a sigh, then giggled. "I thought I might break something."

"You did beautifully," Anastasia told her. "I don't know how you managed to sustain those notes so long!"

"I think I'll hurt my stomach if I do that much longer," Camilla said with a laugh. "The muscles are already sore from all our singing."

"Don't strain yourself," Anastasia told her, also giggling.

"I won't," Camilla assured her. "Let's open that window." She went over and pushed the window open. It was the one that looked down to the street, and the noise of coaches and of people talking drifted in from the road below.

"Is there a piece you'd like to practice again?" Anastasia asked. "I would like to go to bar forty-two. The phrasing there is tricky, and I'd like to practice it again. If you want?"

Camilla nodded. "Of course. It's easier for me...you're doing all the trills in that bit."

"Yes. I am," Anastasia teased. "My fingers know too."

They both laughed.

They returned to the bar that Anastasia wanted to try again, and then Camilla suggested they went to the middle section, where there was a passage that she still wanted to work on. A moth flapped in through the window and Camilla shrieked as it fluttered past her face.

"I'll let it out," Anastasia said. She had never had a horror of insects—the only crawling things that scared her were spiders. She went to the window where the poor thing was flapping helplessly and pushed it out over the sill. Camilla came and joined her.

"Off it goes," she murmured.

Anastasia nodded and smiled. She watched the insect flutter down and gazed down to the gardens below. The front of their house had no garden to speak of, resting directly on the pavement.

"Oh! Look!" Camilla said, interrupting her thoughts. She was pointing. "There is a little market down there. I can see a ribbon stall. Shall we go?"

Anastasia frowned. Since her father had seen her dancing with the duke, he had been particularly hard on her about doing anything that might put her good name in question. The town market was far from a scandalous place to be seen, but perhaps he would disapprove. "I am not sure," she began.

"Oh, come, dear friend!" Camilla chided gently. "There's no harm in a market! We can take Rachel to chaperone us—of course we shall. Then there is nothing untoward about us being seen there."

"You are right," Anastasia agreed. Her heart lifted at the thought of being out of doors. She had been in the house too long. Being outside and doing something diverting like visiting the market felt good.

They hurried downstairs to fetch their bonnets and shawls and to find Rachel to accompany them.

"I shall race you!" Camilla challenged, laughing, as she tied on her bonnet. "Whosoever is first prepared shall be the victor...though I know not what the prize may be."

"A Chelsea bun!"

"Yes!"

They giggled and laughed, and Anastasia's spirits soared as she tied on her bonnet. Camilla was fractionally faster, and they were still laughing as they rushed outside, Rachel hurrying behind them.

"I won!" Camilla grinned as Anastasia caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the front door. "I can't wait to have that delicious bun."

"I'm having one too," Anastasia insisted. Chelsea buns were delicious—thick, doughy buns well-stocked with raisins and iced with thick sugary icing.

They both laughed as they hurried down the street towards the market. Rachel hurried to keep up and they were, all of them, laughing and giggling breathlessly as they walked briskly towards the stalls.

"Here we are!" Camilla said with a grin as they reached the ribbon-seller's stall.

"Ooh! How beautiful," Anastasia exclaimed, reaching up for a ribbon of pure blue silk, the color of the intense evening sky. It was beautiful and her heart thudded as she touched it. It was satiny-soft, and she longed to have it.

"How about this one!" Camilla exclaimed, reaching for a pink silk ribbon. It was a strong pink, and Camilla gestured to it, asking the stallholder to lift it down for her.

"It's the same color as your gown—your pink ballgown," Anastasia commented as Camilla held it up.

"How does it look?" Camilla asked, holding it against her hair.

"Maybe a little bright?" Anastasia replied, gazing at the ribbon. It was somewhere between strawberry pink and rose pink, and it showed less against Camilla's red curls.

"I declare! I'd like to see it for myself," Camilla replied, and the man behind the counter grinned.

"My lady, wait no longer. I have a looking glass for you to study it in."

Camilla nodded. "Thank you," she said briskly, and the man, still grinning at the two young ladies, brought out a silver looking glass with a rather ornate bronze frame. He held it for Camilla, who frowned at the effect, then grinned.

"I like it. And you?" she asked Anastasia. "What will you take?"

Anastasia gazed up at the blue ribbon. She longed for it—so much so that it hadn't even occurred to her to buy it. She automatically assumed it would be beyond her pin-money. Not that her father was not generous, and more than generous, with both Lily and herself—but she had thought to save the money to purchase something more practical than silk ribbons.

"I..." she hesitated.

"I need a white one, actually," Camilla commented, reaching up for a white satin one. "I have too many white gowns, and I need something new to put in my hair. I'm too tall for ostrich feathers." She giggled.

"I think they could be quite becoming," Anastasia commented, but Camilla was already reaching over to pay for her ribbons. Anastasia stepped back, studying the stall more closely. Perhaps there was something cheaper. She took another step back to see more.

"My lady..."

Anastasia frowned, hearing how Rachel hesitated. She turned around and shrieked as she bumped straight into someone.

"Oh! So sorry," she exclaimed, holding up a hand. As she did so, she stared.

The Duke of Willowick stared back.

For a second, they said nothing to one another. Anastasia gazed up at him, joy rushing through each part of her as she beheld his green eyes. He stared at her and she stared back, and she could think of nothing to say, other than how delighted she was to see him and how sorely horrid the last week was, not having spotted him once.

He gazed back at her, his lips moving into a small silent exclamation of surprise for a second. Then he recovered and lifted his hat, bowing low to the three women.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them. His gaze never moved from Anastasia's own.

"Your Grace," Anastasia murmured, dropping a low curtsey. She straightened up, and Camilla straightened up too.

"You are visiting the market?" Camilla asked. Her voice was filled with genuine surprise and the duke smiled.

"I suppose it is not strictly in my duties?" he asked. "I was, as it happens, on my way from my solicitor's office when I spotted the market. I thought to stop at the silversmith's there, since I wished to purchase a gift for my sister."

"Your solicitor?" Camilla asked boldly. She always was bold. "I trust nothing bad?"

The duke grinned. "No. As it happens, just a matter I wish him to discuss with the accountant. A slight matter."

Anastasia smiled. His gaze caught hers and she felt as though she was drowning in those wide green eyes. She gazed up at him, her heart racing. No thought was in her mind, other than her joy.

"Are you ladies finding purchases to make?" he asked, clearing his throat and still holding her stare. She smiled.

"I bought these," Camilla commented, interrupting. "Anastasia there hasn't chosen yet. Mayhap you could help her?" She grinned at him.

Anastasia stared at Camilla. She felt confused. Was Camilla trying to make the duke and herself talk? She saw her friend turn pointedly away, focusing on the ribbons and discussing prices with the stallholder as though she wanted to give them time together.

"Are you enjoying the shopping?" the duke asked.

Anastasia smiled. "I haven't bought anything yet," she admitted.

"You must have seen something appealing. Look at these colours!" the duke declared. He waved a hand at the ribbons. "Like a paintbox."

"I suppose," Anastasia giggled.

"That one. Cobalt blue," the duke murmured, reaching for the ribbon that she had been gazing at. "Do you like it?"

Anastasia felt her eyes widen. "I do like it," she admitted.

The duke smiled. "Your eyes are a fine match for it."

"They are?"

"Yes."

Anastasia felt heat flood her and she resisted the urge to fan herself. The compliment made her entire body catch fire. She tried to look away, but a happy smile lifted her lips, and she found she did not want to hide her delight.

She gazed over at Camilla, who was talking to the stallholder as he wrapped her purchases. They were commenting about the weather. She saw the duke grin.

"Anastasia?" Camilla called. "Shall we go somewhere else?" She had a small parcel wrapped in paper in her hand, the ribbons carefully covered so that they would not stain.

"I..." Anastasia hesitated. She still had not decided if she should buy the ribbon.

"Will you not take it?" the duke asked.

"I shouldn't..." Anastasia began.

Camilla rolled her eyes and the duke laughed.

"Oh, very well!" Anastasia was laughing as she reached into her drawstring reticule. "How much is that?" she asked the stallholder.

"Sixpence, my lady."

Anastasia winced at the price, but she reached into her reticule and took out the money. The duke reached out to touch her hand. She froze at the contact, her eyes meeting his.

"Allow me," he murmured before she passed over the coinage.

"Your Grace..."

Anastasia ceased to object as the duke leveled a harsh gaze at the stallholder, who had been about to take Anastasia's coin. A minute later, the fellow was passing Anastasia the paper-wrapped parcel while she replaced the coin in her purse.

"Thank you."

"No need," he murmured.

They held eyes.

Camilla was chuckling with somebody at the other stall. Anastasia held his gaze for a few moments and then she had to turn as their chaperone, and then Camilla, wandered off.

"I declare!" Camilla said as they walked across the market to a stall selling jewelry. The Duke exhibits a marked tendency to smile when in your presence."

"No!" Anastasia chuckled, flapping a hand at her. She knew her cheeks were red, and she did not care. Seeing the duke again, even just for a few minutes, made her spirit soar and her heart sing.

She could feel the ribbon in her purse, and she felt her heart lift as though it was flying. She might not be able to wear it, lest someone—her father, that was—saw it. But she would put it in her drawer and keep it forever, always recalling the moment when he had talked and laughed with her at the market.

She would always remember his gentle, sweet words and how his eyes had held hers. She could not stop smiling.