Chapter 5

Chapter Five

" M iss, you seemed quite troubled last night. Did something happen at the ball?" Mary, her lady's maid, tidying up the room, glanced at Eliza with concern.

Eliza sighed, setting her teacup down. "It is my aunt, Mary. She is relentless in pushing these old suitors on me. It is as if she does not care about anything but securing a match, no matter how unsuitable they are."

Mary shook her head, her brow furrowing. "It is a shame, Miss. You deserve someone who values you for who you are."

Eliza nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude for Mary's support. "She is so focused on appearances and status."

Mary hesitated for a moment, then said, "And what of the Duke of Redfern? He has quite the reputation, Miss. They say he is a notorious rake."

Eliza blushed, thinking how Anthony acted toward her the night before then deeper when she remembered how much she enjoyed his attention.

"He may have a reputation, Mary, but I do not know that I have much choice."

Mary looked fearful. "You must be careful, Miss. Your aunt will not take kindly to any missteps."

Eliza sighed again, her mind racing with the complexities of her situation. "I know, Mary. I must tread carefully, but I also must find a way to secure my own future."

A knock on her door interrupted their conversation. Mary went to answer it and returned with a lush bouquet of flowers, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the somber morning light.

"Miss, these have just arrived for you," the maid said, setting the bouquet on the table.

Eliza's heart skipped a beat. "Thank you, Mary."

As the maid left the room, Eliza admired the floral assortment. They were a stunning arrangement of deep red roses and white lilies, elegantly tied with a dark green ribbon.

Yet, something about the bouquet caught her attention—a subtle, almost imperceptible bulge near the base of the arrangement.

Eliza leaned in closer, carefully parting the stems until she found a small, silver locket hidden within the flowers. Her pulse quickened as she delicately extracted the locket, feeling its cool metal in her hand. The design was intricate, with an ornate pattern etched into its surface, but she knew this was more than just a piece of jewelry.

With a quick glance towards the door to ensure she was still alone, Eliza pressed the tiny clasp on the locket.

It opened to reveal a small, folded piece of paper, cleverly concealed within.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it and pulled out the note inside. The handwriting was neat and elegant.

Miss Huxley,

I trust this note finds you well. As promised, here are the details for our meetings. We shall convene at the Redfern townhouse in the library where discretion can be assured. I have arranged for a discreet carriage to collect you each Wednesday evening at midnight from the servant's entrance. The driver is a trusted employee of mine and will ensure your safe arrival and departure without notice.

Our first meeting will be tomorrow. I look forward to our time together.

Yours,

Anthony

Eliza read the note twice, her heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The implications of their agreement were daunting, yet she could not deny the thrill of the unknown.

She quickly folded the note and placed it back in the locket, which she shoved into her cleavage—one of the perks of having an ample bosom. She always felt a bit ludicrous whenever she did something like this, but her dress had no pockets, so she could hide the locket properly once she'd go back to her room.

As she admired the bouquet, she thought the arrangement, unconventional as it was, might be her only chance to break free from her aunt's control. She just had to navigate the delicate balance of deception and avoid discovery.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door made her heart skip a beat.

Lady Lymington entered the room, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"What is this I hear about a lavish bouquet?" Lady Lymington asked, her voice sharp.

Eliza turned, trying to keep her expression neutral. "The flowers are from the Duke of Redfern, Aunt."

Lady Lymington's eyes widened with interest as she approached the bouquet. "The Duke of Redfern, you say? Well, it seems he knows how to court a lady properly. Did he leave a note for you as well?"

Eliza's heart pounded as she stammered, "There was no note, Aunt. Just the flowers."

From the corner of her eye, Eliza noticed Mary look down at her hands quickly, having seen Eliza hide the note.

Lady Lymington frowned, her gaze piercing. "No note? That is unusual. Are you certain?"

Eliza nodded, her nerves taut. "Yes, Aunt. Just the flowers."

Lady Lymington studied her for a moment before her expression softened slightly. "Well, at least he is making an effort. But remember, Eliza, do not mess this up. This engagement is the best chance you have. You must be perfect in every way."

Eliza bit back a retort, knowing it would only lead to more scolding. "Yes, Aunt. I understand."

She looked between Eliza and the flowers thoughtfully. "This might be the perfect opportunity for you to entrap him. You must do everything you can to get him down the wedding aisle."

"But Aunt," Eliza protested indignantly, "why would I ever do such a thing?

Lady Lymington's eyes flashed with irritation. "Do not be naive, Eliza. Men like the Duke of Redfern require constant reassurance that they are making the right choice. He could easily lose interest if you misstep or if he finds someone more refined. You must look perfect and act perfectly. If you slip up even once, it is over. Remember, your reputation is fragile. One mistake and it could all come crashing down. And knowing you, it will be only a matter of time."

Eliza clenched her jaw, trying to keep the anger off her face as she bore her aunt's tirade. "He sent flowers, Aunt; why are you berating me as though I have already ruined it?"

She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Do not forget, the Duke of Redfern is known for his rakish behavior. If this engagement fails, the ton will blame you, not him. They will say you were not enough to tame him, and your reputation will be in ruins. No respectable man will have you."

Despite her anger, Eliza knew that meeting with Anthony would be exactly the type of ruin her aunt was warning about.

"I will be careful, Aunt."

Lady Lymington nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now, make sure you prepare yourself properly in case he calls today. You must always look your best and conduct yourself with the utmost grace."

Eliza watched her aunt leave the room, her heart still racing. She retrieved the note from its hiding place, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded it. The words seemed to leap off the page, reminding her of the precarious situation she had willingly entered.

She looked up to Mary. "Can I trust you, Mary?"

The young woman nodded, casting a vaguely disgusted look where Lady Lymington had vanished.

The day passed in a blur, Eliza's thoughts consumed by the impending meeting. She found herself glancing at the clock repeatedly, her anticipation growing with each passing hour.

When the evening finally arrived, Eliza found herself more resolved than ever to see the plan through. She retreated to her room, claiming to be heading to bed. The sound of the latch clicking into place seemed to echo her determination. She crossed to her vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the anxious eyes that stared back at her.

Just as she sat down to freshen up, there was a soft knock on her door. Eliza opened it to find Mary standing there, a look of concern on her face.

"Miss, are you sure about this?" Mary asked quietly.

Eliza nodded, her resolve firm. "I need your help, Mary. Please, help me prepare."

Mary's eyes widened, but she nodded. "Of course, Miss."

Eliza took a deep breath. "We need to choose something that is elegant but not too attention-grabbing. I need to look refined but not overly dressed."

Mary nodded and quickly set to work, sorting through Eliza's wardrobe.

"How about this one, Miss?" she suggested, holding up a simple yet blue gown.

Eliza examined it, feeling the soft fabric between her fingers. "Yes, that will do perfectly. Help me with it, please."

Mary assisted Eliza in dressing, ensuring the gown was perfectly arranged. Her fingers trembled slightly as she fastened the buttons and smoothed the fabric.

"Now, for the perfume," Mary said, handing Eliza a bottle.

Eliza chose a soft, understated scent, dabbing it lightly on her wrists and neck, hoping the subtle fragrance would calm her nerves.

As Mary helped her with her hair, brushing it out carefully and arranging it in a loose yet elegant style, Eliza felt a wave of gratitude for her maid's loyalty.

"You look beautiful, Miss," Mary said, securing the last pin.

Eliza felt a wave of gratitude for Mary's loyalty. "Thank you, Mary. I could not do this without you."

Mary gave her a reassuring smile. "Be safe, Miss."

With Mary's help, Eliza felt more confident. She slipped on a pair of soft-soled shoes that would allow her to move quietly through the house and gathered a small shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders for warmth and a sense of security.

She opened her door cautiously, peering out into the dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet, the servants having retired for the night.

With her footsteps light and careful, she made her way down the corridor, her heart pounding with each step. Every creak of the floorboards sounded deafening in the silence, and she paused frequently to listen for any signs of movement.

As she approached the back staircase, she heard a faint rustling and froze.

She pressed herself against the wall, her breath held, as the sound of a servant's footsteps echoed faintly from another part of the house.

After a few tense moments, the noise faded, and Eliza continued on her way.

The back staircase led to the servants' entrance, a route she had memorized for occasions just like this.

This was not the first time she had snuck out of her lodging. In fact, she knew every creaky floorboard at Mrs. West's. However, she was much less familiar with the Lymington townhouse.

She descended the narrow stairs, grateful for the soft soles of her shoes that muffled her steps. At the bottom, she paused again, listening intently. The only sound was the distant ticking of a clock in the hallway.

Eliza reached the servants' entrance and carefully unlocked the door. She slipped outside into the cool night air, closing the door silently behind her.

The garden path stretched out before her, lit by the soft glow of moonlight.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she saw the carriage waiting.

What was she doing here? Could she really trust Anthony, the notorious rake, with such an unconventional arrangement?

Her mind raced as she climbed the steps from the servant's entrance of the Redfern townhouse. She knew, of course, she had little choice. The promise of freedom from her aunt's tyranny was too tempting to ignore. Her heart pounded with nerves, each beat echoing her apprehension.

"Good evening, Miss," the servant said, opening the door to the library.

Eliza stepped in, and the servant closed the door behind her, leaving her alone in the expansive room.

She looked around the room, twisting her hands together.

Everything seemed set for an intimate evening; a low fire in the fireplace, candles lit around the room, a bottle of champagne on ice on a table with strawberries, figs, and honey on a plate beside the bottle.

Eliza blushed, thinking of the implication of the selections.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Anthony entered.

He was impeccably dressed, his light brown hair slightly tousled, and his green eyes gleaming with curiosity and an almost imperceptible warmth.

He moved with a grace and confidence that seemed to fill the room, making it impossible for Eliza to ignore the stirrings of attraction she felt.

"Good evening, Eliza," he greeted, his voice smooth and confident. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"

Eliza took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Yes, I do not believe I was seen, thank you."

He nodded, gesturing for her to sit. "Please, make yourself comfortable," he suggested, his eyes studying her with interest.

He settled into the chair opposite her, his gaze never leaving her face, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. The subtle intensity in his eyes made Eliza feel both scrutinized and oddly protected, leaving her with unexpected comfort and apprehension.

As she took a seat in one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, she could not help but notice the way Anthony's presence seemed to dominate the room. His calm confidence was almost tangible, and it made her both nervous and strangely reassured.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, determined to show that she wasn't as intimidated as she felt.

"Thank you for the flowers, Your Grace," she said, her chin up.

Anthony nodded, gesturing for her to sit. "I thought we agreed to use first names?" he chided. "We might use this time to get to know each other better."

Eliza settled into a chair, her fingers gripping the armrests. Anthony took the seat opposite her, his gaze focused and attentive.

"What would you like to know?" she asked him.

"You do not have questions first for me?" he asked, amused, as he stroked his chin.

"I am afraid that you have me at a bit of a disadvantage," she pointed out. "I am in your home on your terms at your request."

"You must think me a proper rogue," he teased, leaning forward. "May I remind you that you came willingly?"

"Hardly," she objected, starting to relax a little with her defiant nature; as if his challenging of her helped her to forget her apprehension, she felt a need to resist him. "And I do not think you are a rogue. I know you are one."

He leaned back, a playful glint in his eye. "Who knows, maybe one day you will find my company almost tolerable."

Eliza scoffed, "I suppose anything is possible."

"Then I shall ask you a roguish question," Anthony continued, raising his eyebrow flirtatiously at her. "Tell me, have you ever been kissed?"

"Why would you ask such a thing?" Eliza protested with as much offense as she could muster. "Ladies do not kiss men before marriage."

"I did not ask about ladies, I asked about you," he said.

She pressed her lips together and told him shortly, "No."

With a seductive voice, he asked, "Would you like to be kissed, then? Properly, this time?"

Her breath caught in her throat, feeling a rush of warmth flow over her. Her flush of desire though was quickly replaced with anger.

"Do not make fun of me, Your Grace."

Quiet stretch between them, Anthony studying her carefully. She looked down to her hands, feeling unsettled under his gaze.

He broke the silence, saying, "I am not making fun of you. And you did not answer my question."

She snapped up to look at him. "I do not want your pity, Your Grace."

Anthony laughed, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room.

"Pity? I do not pity you, Eliza. Far from it."