Chapter 4

Chapter Four

" H ow delighted I am to see my fiancée again," Anthony said, his voice warm and smooth after he'd greeted the other ladies with a polite nod.

He took Eliza's hand and kissed it gently.

All the ladies' jaws dropped in unison. Eliza stared at Anthony, her eyes wide with confusion and shock.

The silence stretched for a moment, filled only with the murmurs of the other guests in the ballroom.

He held onto her hand for a moment longer than polite, slowly sliding his fingers out from under hers.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, contrasting beautifully with her red hair.

Lady Catherine was the first to recover though her voice was noticeably less confident. "Your fiancée, Your Grace? We had no idea you were engaged."

Anthony's smile did not waver as he glanced around at the stunned faces.

His gaze cut into Lady Catherine. "Is that so? I could have sworn I just overheard you speaking of our engagement. I must say, though, it is a relatively recent development. We have chosen to keep it private until now."

Lady Margaret, her expression hardly concealing her disgust, leaned in slightly. "How wonderful for you both. I… suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Lady Margaret," Anthony replied smoothly, his gaze never leaving Eliza's. "It has been a whirlwind but a joyous one."

Taking Eliza's arm, he wrapped her hand around his forearm. He could feel her pulse quicken under his touch, her breaths shallow and rapid.

She looked on the verge of fainting, poor thing.

His eyes roved over his alleged fiancée as he spoke, taking in her flushed cheeks, the soft curls of her red hair, and the way her blue eyes seemed to deepen with conflicting emotions.

She exuded a raw, natural beauty that was incredibly captivating.

He had initially wanted to punish her for dragging him into this farce, but now, he found himself unexpectedly drawn to her.

Before any of them could recover further or ask more probing questions, he took Eliza's dance card from her hand.

"Although improper on my part, I cannot bring myself to allow you to dance with anyone but me, my little dove," he said, filling her dance card with his name.

He maintained eye contact with Eliza through the whole ordeal.

Lady Amelia, regaining some of her composure, tried to interject. "But Your Grace, surely Miss Huxley had other engagements?—"

"Not anymore," Anthony said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He handed the card back to Eliza, his fingers brushing hers, and he noticed the redhead shiver.

"Excuse us, ladies," Anthony continued, offering a slight bow. "I must claim my dance with my fiancée."

He felt a thrill as he led Eliza back to the dance floor.

"Your Grace," Eliza whispered, her voice barely steady as they took their positions for the next dance. "W-what are you doing?"

Anthony's grip on her waist tightened slightly as the music began. He looked down at her, noting the way the soft candlelight highlighted the freckles on her nose and the curve of her lips.

"Playing along, Miss Huxley. For now."

He could feel the warmth of her body close to his, her scent—something like wildflowers—filling his senses. She intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

They moved together in the dance, the eyes of the entire ballroom fixed on them.

Eliza's pulse beat visibly in her throat, her mind clearly racing with the sudden turn of events. His unexpected support had thrown her completely off balance, and he relished the idea of keeping her guessing.

As they glided across the dance floor, he could not help but think that perhaps this arrangement could serve both their desires.

It could serve him very well indeed.

As they danced, he watched her carefully, noting the mix of emotions flickering across her face.

"Your Grace, I can explain—" she began, her voice uncertain.

Anthony interrupted her smoothly, his gaze fixed on her. "I thought your name sounded familiar. I did not realize you were the daughter of Viscount Callwell when we first met."

Her eyes widened slightly. "It is understandable, Your Grace. We met under… straining circumstances."

"Ah, yes, the Fernside ball," Anthony said thoughtfully. "You were quite the spirited dancer, even then."

She flushed, her cheeks turning a charming shade of pink. "I had hoped to make a good impression."

Anthony's eyes softened slightly as he looked at her. "You did, Miss Huxley."

Her heart seemed to race as she struggled to find the right words. "Your Grace, I did not intend for this to happen. It was a desperate move to avoid another unwanted match."

Anthony allowed his eyes to roam over her body, noting the swell of her ample bosom, ready to spill over the edge of her dress' neckline. He wondered how easily the fabric would rip if he ripped it with his teeth…

"This situation is rather reminiscent of the first time we met," he remarked, almost amused. "I seem to recall rescuing you with a dance back then as well."

He could see the anxious gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Your Grace, for your kindness then and now. I?—"

"You look pale, Miss Huxley," he cut her off smoothly, his brows furrowing in concern.

She bit her lip, and Anthony felt a tingle of arousal dance down his groin.

I wonder what else would make her bite her lip .

"My corset is tied too tightly," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can barely breathe."

The mention of her corset brought images of unlacing her, causing a stirring in his loins.

"Do you need any help loosening it?" Anthony asked, his tone light but with a teasing edge.

Eliza blinked and she looked as though he'd told her that horses were soon to join the ballet.

"Um… No, thank you, Your Grace. I-I am sure I can manage."

Anthony's lips curled into a mischievous smile, "Are you certain? It would be my pleasure to assist."

She blinked again and he couldn't help but smile with amusement at her bewilderment.

"Quite certain," she replied firmly though he noticed a spark of something undefinable in her eyes.

Her face seemed to show that she thought he was teasing her, rather than flirting with her. A flicker of embarrassment passed through her glowing blue eyes.

It was refreshing to engage with someone who responded in such a genuine way; someone unafraid to express themselves.

He tightened his grip slightly, guiding her through the dance with ease, his tone playful. "You know, this predicament of yours is rather amusing. It seems you have a knack for getting into troublesome situations."

Eliza narrowed her eyes at him, her expression defiant. "I assure you, Your Grace, it was not intentional."

Anthony's smile widened. "Perhaps not, but you must admit, it adds a certain excitement to the evening."

Her frustration was evident, but he could see a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "Excitement is hardly the word I would use."

"Really? Then what word would you use, Miss Huxley?" Anthony's eyes gleamed with challenge.

"Exasperation," she muttered, trying to hide her smile.

Anthony chuckled. "I see. Well, I aim to please."

Eliza raised an eyebrow, her defiance still apparent. "You have a peculiar way of showing it."

"I have been told my methods are… unconventional," Anthony replied with a wink, "but they are effective."

"Effective at what? Unsettling me?" Eliza retorted, her lips twitching with the hint of a smile.

"Ah, but you see, that is where the fun lies," Anthony said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A bit of unsettling can lead to the most interesting reactions."

"You are incredible," she replied, shaking her head but not entirely able to hide her amusement.

"I hear that quite often," he replied with a satisfied smirk.

Eliza rolled her eyes, her uneasiness fading a bit, "You are too bold for your own good, Your Grace."

"Boldness has its merits," he said, his tone teasing yet sincere. "It allows one to seize opportunities."

"Opportunities or trouble?" she asked, her tone lightening despite herself.

"Sometimes both," he conceded with a grin. "But where is the thrill in playing it safe?"

"You are enjoying this far too much," she said, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"Perhaps," Anthony admitted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I must confess, I find you fascinating, Miss Huxley."

Her breath caught, and he saw a flicker of surprise. "Fascinating?"

"Indeed," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You are unlike any other woman I have ever met."

Before she could respond, the music ended. Anthony led her off the dance floor, feeling a sense of satisfaction and curiosity at her fluster.

Eliza moved away from Anthony, and he noticed the way she seemed to need a moment to catch her breath.

Not one to be easily dismissed, he followed her with determined steps, intrigued by the tension simmering between them.

Before they could exchange any more words, the Countess of Lymington accosted them, her face lighting up with a delighted smile as she approached.

"Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I have heard so much about you."

Anthony gave a polite nod. "Lady Lymington, the pleasure is mine."

As he took in Lady Lymington's appearance, he noted the garishness of her attire. The overly bright colors and excessive jewelry clashed, making her look more like a peacock than a lady of the ton. Her eyes, however, held a sharpness that belied her cheerful facade.

She turned to Eliza, her expression shifting to one of barely concealed disdain.

"Eliza, you should have found me when the Duke arrived so that I could appropriately chaperone," she scolded.

He frowned, wondering at her indiscretion of chiding her niece in public, especially in front of her fiancé.

Eliza opened her mouth to respond, but Anthony spoke first, his tone measured and observant. "Lady Lymington, I do not believe a chaperone is required whilst one is dancing. Besides, you did look otherwise engaged."

Lady Lymington's eyes flicked to Anthony, her smile returning. "Of course, Your Grace. I simply want to maintain my niece's reputation. After all, she has always had a way of finding herself in… unique situations." She turned her head quickly, and moving her mouth as little as possible, cast a sharp, hissing whisper at Eliza, "Do not embarrass me."

Anthony's eyes narrowed slightly as he picked up on the tension. The sharpness in Lady Lymington's tone, contrasted with her gaudy appearance, painted a clear picture of a woman more interested in control than in genuine care. What kind of woman would treat her own niece like that?

"I assure you, Lady Lymington, Miss Huxley has conducted herself with utmost propriety," Anthony interjected, his voice firm.

Lady Lymington's gaze shifted back to Anthony, her cordial mask firmly in place. "Thank you, Your Grace. I am so pleased to hear that. Now, if you would excuse us, I must have a word with my niece."

Sensing the underlying hostility, Anthony intervened smoothly. "Actually, Lady Lymington, I was hoping to speak with Miss Huxley a bit longer. There are a few matters we need to discuss. Perhaps I could take her for a turn about the room, all while under your very watchful eye?"

Lady Lymington's eyes flashed with irritation, but she forced another smile. "Of course, Your Grace. I would not dream of interfering."

Anthony turned to Eliza, offering his arm again. "Shall we, Miss Huxley?"

She hesitated for a moment then took his arm.

As they moved away, Lady Lymington's voice called after them. "Eliza, remember to be on your best behavior."

As they walked, Anthony leaned in slightly. "I see what you mean about the tight corset. I suggest we find a quieter spot, somewhere you can breathe more easily."

Eliza nodded, and they walked together for a few moments longer.

Anthony kept the conversation light, asking her about the decorations and the music, all the while leading her subtly towards a more secluded area of the ballroom.

Finally, he stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. "Miss Huxley, I have to greet some acquaintances," he said, his tone formal. Then he leaned in, whispering in her ear, "Meet me in the study in ten minutes."

Once as she nodded, he gave her a final, meaningful look before turning and making his way through the crowd.

Ten minutes later, Eliza entered the study, her nerves on edge.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls.

Anthony stood by the fireplace, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He turned as she entered, his gaze intense.

"Well, Miss Huxley. One question remains," he began calmly and then his expression darkened, "Would you care to explain to me why you are telling the ton that you are engaged to me?"

He doubtlessly knew how to contain himself in public; now, he could give her a piece of his mind without the watchful eyes of the ton or her aunt on them.

Eliza could see his green eyes flashing with anger as he drew closer to her. She could see the stubble on his chin and the soft waves in his hair, and her heart hammered in her throat with attraction and fear.

"Lord Beecham, a man who could be my grandfather, wanted to give me an offer which my aunt wanted me to accept," Eliza said softly in a rush.

"So, you thought you could just say you were engaged, and you came up with my name?" Anthony demanded.

"Everyone said you did not attend society events," Eliza explained, twisting her fingers together. "I thought?—"

"You thought I have already rescued you once, why not a second time?"

"No! No, absolutely not; in all honesty, I did not recall that you inherited the duchy—I met you as the Marquess of Sedgemond last year and you have remained in mind with your former title since," she explained in a panic, "I did not expect anything from you, Your Grace, I promise. I am sorry, truly sorry."

Silence spanned between them as Eliza chewed on her lip, trying to think of how to get out of this situation.

Briefly, she saw Anthony's gaze flick down to her lips then back up to her eyes.

"Well then, Miss Huxley," he began, "I believe I deserve some compensation for rescuing you tonight."

Eliza's heart pounded. "I do not have access to my dowry, Your Grace," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "My aunt controls all my finances."

Anthony shook his head, a small, sinister smile playing on his lips. "I am not interested in financial compensation, Miss Huxley."

Eliza blinked, taken aback by his words. "Not financial compensation?"

Anthony drew closer, his presence overwhelming and intimidating. "No. I have a different proposition for you, Miss Huxley. I will continue this engagement charade until the end of the season, but in exchange, there is something that I want from you."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat. "And what do you want in return, Your Grace?"

He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "I want you to spend one night each week with me. It will give me an excuse to keep my sister and everyone else off my neck for a while. And I have found myself… rather enjoying your company."

Eliza's eyes widened, her mind racing. "You cannot be serious."

"I am quite serious," Anthony replied, his eyes locking onto hers. "You need freedom from your aunt, and I need a reprieve from the incessant matchmaking. This arrangement benefits us both."

Eliza knew it wasn't a good idea to strike a bargain with a man like him. She struggled to breathe, her chest heaving like she had been running.

Being alone with any man could ruin her. In fact, being alone with him could actually ruin her. However, if he agreed to pretend to be engaged to her, there was a chance other suitors would find her more desirable.

"One night each week," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, wrestling with the decision. "What do you expect from me during these nights?"

Anthony's smile widened, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Ah, Miss Huxley, where would be the fun in revealing everything at once? Let us say I expect your… undivided attention."

Eliza's heart skipped a beat, her cheeks flushing with hesitant curiosity. "You mean…?"

"Simply that I desire your company," he said, his voice silky and enigmatic. "The details can be discovered as we go along. I assure you, it will be an experience you will not forget."

Her mind raced with the implications of his words, a blend of fear and fascination knotting in her stomach. "But what if someone discovers me?"

"I suppose you will just have to be careful then," he smirked.

"It is easy for you to say," Eliza protested, balling her fists. "If I am caught with you and our engagement discovered to be fake, then I will be ruined and end up married to a man like Lord Beecham or worse. There is no repercussion for you."

He stepped even closer to her, close enough that Eliza could smell the scent of his cologne, as well as the vague scent of brandy. "Let us just say that I have plenty of practice in keeping my private affairs… private."

A shiver went down her spine, her mind racing with all the secrets the man before her held. How could she possibly trust him?

"You promise that no one will find out?" she asked feebly.

"Mmhm," Anthony said, a hint of a smile touching his lips, "you have my word."

Eliza took a deep breath, weighing her options. His coyness left her conflicted, unsure of what exactly he intended. But the promise of freedom was too tempting to resist.

"Very well, Your Grace. I accept your proposition."

Anthony's smile widened in triumph and satisfaction. "Excellent. I will send you a note tomorrow with instructions about our meetings. And how to keep them between us."

Eliza nodded, her mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. Anthony stood too close to her still, looking down roguishly at her. His eyes lingered on her lips, the corner of his lips turned just slightly in a smile.

She could still feel the heat of his proximity, the way his eyes had traced her lips, and the promise of something more, something fiery, that lingered in the air. She had never felt so drawn to a man before, and it terrified her.

Eliza could feel her body reacting to him, a warmth spreading through her that she struggled to suppress. Every step she took away from him felt like a battle between reason and desire. She knew she needed to maintain her composure and not let him see how deeply he affected her.

Clearing her throat, Eliza tried to break the spell he placed over her. "Thank you, Your Grace. Shall we return to the ballroom? I wouldn't like to raise suspicions."

He offered his arm, and she hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on it. "As you wish."

"Perhaps it would be best if we left separately," she suggested, wary of him, "So no one sees us leaving this room together, that is."

"Ah, very astute," he responded, "I shall wait a few moments after you make your return."

Eliza nodded and turned towards the door.

Though, all of a sudden, Anthony grabbed her wrist and twirled her around to face him.

"Before you go," he said, his face dangerously close to hers, "You realize that this arrangement will require us to be convincing. We will need to spend time together in public as well."

Eliza glanced up at him, her brow furrowing. "Oh?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement, "The ton will expect to see us together often. We must make them believe we are genuinely betrothed."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Anthony," he corrected, his voice softening. "If we are to keep up this ruse, it is only fitting we use each other's given names in private."

"Very well," she agreed, managing a small smile. "Anthony."

She saw his eyes darken the moment she uttered his name, and his lips parted.

"Your—Anthony?" she exhaled shakily.

"Yes?" he asked, though his eyes fell down at her lips.

"I-I must return to the ballroom," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers again, and Eliza felt a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. And further down her body, below her stomach; something she'd never felt before.

"Mmhm," he muttered casually, and Eliza was certain he hadn't heard what she'd told him.

Then, he leaned down, his breath hot and sweet on her skin, and he brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't quite a kiss, but the promise of one. Still, it'd felt as though she'd been struck by lightning.

She blinked as he slowly released her, a smirk spreading over his lips, "To seal our agreement," he said, "and to give you a taste of what's coming."

She gulped.

He could do this to her with just a hint of a touch?

Oh, he was trouble indeed.

So, Eliza nodded, and rushed out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor.

As she approached the entrance to the ballroom, Eliza could not help but feel a spark of hope.

Perhaps this arrangement, strange as it was, might not be as dreadful as she had feared. With Anthony by her side, she could have a glimmer of freedom on the horizon.

And yet, she could not dismiss the rising feeling of danger.

For Anthony was temptation itself.