Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It had been three years since the worst day of his life, the terrible day when Anastasia had fallen from the balcony and died. Since, there had been a void within him. Some days, he managed to survive as though all was well. He could pretend that he did not still feel the gaping hollowness within him. Then there were the days when she seemed to be everywhere, when he smelled the springtime flowers and remembered her cologne. When he saw ladies in pale blue gowns and imagined her. Despite his attempts to bury his pain, Anastasia still seemed to haunt him from beyond the grave.

He took his seat at the head of the table, noting how Lady Victoria and Lady Rose followed his movements with their gazes. As expected, the Dowager Duchess of Hamilton had promptly left after the ball. She had decided to indulge in the springs in Bath.

"The ball was a success," Lady Victoria said.

Anthony noted the scrutiny in her eyes. "It was."

He took a sip of his coffee, feigning nonchalance. Lady Victoria and Lady Rose both seemed occupied with their breakfasts, and for a brief moment, Anthony thought he might have a peaceful meal. Then Lady Victoria pressed her lips into a thin line and furrowed her brow.

Anthony clenched his jaw. "Something vexes you?" he asked at last.

"I am certain that the scene with the Marquess of Thornton has already spread throughout all of London," Lady Victoria said. "The gossipmongers will be talking about little else for some time."

"It was not as terrible as you seem to believe," Anthony said. "The ton may be speaking of it now, but I am sure something equally notable will happen at the next ball. The Marquess of Thornton simply forgot himself for a moment."

"Poor Bridget," Lady Rose said, sighing. "I am sure she would have preferred not to be involved in the scene."

Anthony forced his expression to remain neutral, even as his thoughts careened toward Lady Bridget. The more he thought of her, the more alluring she seemed to become. He thought of his hands sweeping over her and of her breathing quickly and shallowly in the night air. Anthony shivered with delight, thinking of what might have occurred on that balcony if Lady Rose had not interrupted.

"I still think you ought to consider my plan," Lady Rose said. "It would be good recompense."

"Recompense?"

"For her two ruined gowns," Lady Rose replied.

"Two gowns?" Lady Victoria asked.

Lady Rose quickly explained the circumstances of Lady Bridget's first gown, and Anthony felt a spark of embarrassment at hearing the incident described. It did seem as though poor Lady Bridget's gowns had met with a streak of misfortune.

"It is apparent that the Marquess of Thornton has shown considerable interest in Bridget's hand," Lady Rose said, "so I feel like it would be kind of His Grace to feign as if he is courting my friend. Lord Thornton will be forced to concede if his competition for Bridget's affections is the Duke of Hamilton."

"I see," said Lady Victoria. "Rose, this seems like a rather strange ploy. You are not acting in a Shakespearean comedy."

"I know," Rose replied. "But you must also see the benefits of it. Surely, you would have done anything to avoid a distasteful marriage, would you not?"

Lady Victoria took a sip of her tea, and her eyes took on a misty look. "Of course I would have."

Lady Rose's cheerful expression wavered for just an instant. She seemed to realized that she had spoken unwisely, for Lady Victoria's thoughts had doubtlessly turned to her deceased and beloved husband.

"I will consider your plan," Anthony said quickly. "I make no promises to commit."

It had occurred to him that there would be a potential advantage to the plan for him, as well as for Lady Bridget. If the ladies of the ton believed he was courting Lady Bridget, that would likely be enough to dissuade them from pursuing him. Anthony did not feel inclined to wed any lady, and although an eventual marriage of convenience might be something to consider, he had enough problems to solve already without thinking about any future brides.

"Fair enough," Lady Rose said.

"You must also think about Rose," Lady Victoria said. "She will need to be introduced to gentlemen. This is to be your Season, dear. I do not want all your efforts to be spent helping your friend avoid a marriage."

"It will not be," Lady Rose said. "Indeed, I had intended to ask His Grace about an invitation."

"Oh?" Anthony asked.

Lady Rose nodded. "Lady Emily is hosting an art exhibition tomorrow, and I was hoping you might accompany me."

Anthony hummed. "I shall have to see if I am otherwise occupied tomorrow. I will look at my engagements and provide you with an answer this evening."

He made a show of eating his breakfast in earnest, hoping to ward off any other questions. It was just an art exhibition. That was nothing to be upset about. For most men, anyway. The situation was more complicated for Anthony, however. His love of art had died with Anastasia. He could scarcely look at a portrait or sculpture without thinking of her and how her eyes would shine and her face brighten when she spoke of lines, shape, and form.

Anthony knew that Lady Rose required chaperones, though. That was how she would find a suitable match. He silently hoped he did have other engagements the following day, if only so it would be easier for his conscience to refuse his attendance.

***

A few hours later, Anthony had his answer. He grimaced at the papers spread across his desk, as if some previously unplanned obligation might arise and spare him from having to attend the art exhibition. There was a knock at the door to his study.

"Enter!" Anthony called.

James entered, bearing the morning mail. Anthony sighed when he saw how many missives there were. Many of them would be invitations to the Season's events, and he would be expected to attend for Lady Rose's sake, if not for his own.

"I do not know how you contain your excitement, Your Grace," James said dryly.

Anthony snorted. "Your wit is as sharp as always."

The valet smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Are you all right, Your Grace? Forgive me for saying so, but you do look as though you are upset by something."

Anthony slumped in his chair and gestured for James to sit across the desk. "It is Lady Rose. She has requested that I accompany her to an art exhibition tomorrow. I have not committed to the engagement yet, but I had rather hoped that I would be otherwise occupied tomorrow, thereby preventing me from attending."

"Because you cannot bring yourself to simply refuse the lady without justification," James guessed.

"Indeed. I am aware that is rather cowardly of me, but when I think of art, I think of her."

"Have you considered telling Lady Rose that?" James asked quietly. "I am certain that the young lady would understand."

"She would," Anthony said. "Somehow, that makes it all the more difficult. I know that makes little sense."

"Men are not always entirely rational in our thoughts," James replied. "Even if your thoughts are irrational—although I am unsure that they are—that does not mean that you do not feel them."

Anthony sighed. "I feel as though I must attend this exhibition with her, but I would rather not."

"Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to attend, Your Grace," James said. "You might find your passion for art once more."

"I had a passion for art because Anastasia did," Anthony said. "I do not know that I can have it without her."

"But it is worth trying," James said gently. "Lady Anastasia would want you to try."

"She would, but that does not mean it is easy."

"Matters of the heart seldom are, Your Grace."

"Indeed," Anthony mused, thinking of Lady Bridget. "Lady Rose has tried to convince me to help her friend avoid an engagement with a repugnant man."

"Has she?"

Anthony nodded. His mouth felt dry, and he poured himself a glass of brandy. He enjoyed how the alcohol burned and cut through the thick feeling in his throat. It was steadying, a spot of normalcy in a world that seemed to grow increasingly chaotic by the day.

"I am unsure if I wish to aid her efforts," Anthony said, "but I also understand her friend's plight. It is the Marquess of Thornton who wishes to wed her."

Anthony curled his fingers around his glass, noting how the light caught in the cut crystal. It reminded him of the pieces of broken glass from the spilled champagne and how drops of the wine had traced shining paths over the curves of Lady Bridget's full breasts. He had the sudden image of himself tracing those paths with his tongue and watching Lady Bridget's back arch, moans tearing from her full, coral lips.

"What does this plan involve?" James asked.

Anthony finished the rest of his drink, trying to drive away the image. It was disrespectful to think of Lady Bridget in that manner, particularly on the anniversary of Anastasia's death. But no matter how hard Anthony tried, the young woman just would not leave his thoughts. It was maddening how present she was.

"Lady Rose believes that I should act as if I am courting Lady Bridget," Anthony said.

He had expected James to react with the same disbelief that everyone else had when hearing of Lady Rose's plan, but James's lips only twitched in amusement.

"Are you certain that her aim is only to help her friend avoid a marriage with Lord Thornton?"

"What other aim could she have?" Anthony asked.

"I might assume that she hopes Lady Bridget will decide she desires you," James said. "If you are pretending to court the young lady, that will mean spending much time in her presence."

Anthony stared at the valet in disbelief. The man was right on one account. Pretending to be a devoted suitor would necessitate spending a significant amount of time with Lady Bridget, and Anthony had already thought about the dangers of doing precisely that. It was absurd to think that Lady Rose had devised this ridiculous plan in some attempt to achieve that effect, though.

"Lady Rose barely knows me," Anthony said. "I am certain that is not her aim. It is merely that she is young and has few friends. She seeks to safeguard the happiness of the one whom she does have."

"So it seems."

Anthony shook his head. He was right. He must be. It did not make any sense for Lady Rose to want him to genuinely fall in love with Lady Bridget.

"Will you do it, Your Grace?" James asked.

Anthony ran a hand through his hair, thinking and silently weighing his options. "It would be unwise to do it. Lady Rose's plan just sounds as though everything would end badly, and yet I… I do wish to help Lady Bridget."

"I see."

Anthony shrugged. "No matter. I do not even know when I shall see Lady Bridget again, so I have ample time to consider my decision."

James, doubtlessly recognizing the tone of dismissal, rose and bowed. "Indeed, Your Grace."

As the man departed, Anthony looked idly at the letters. He still did not know whether Lady Rose's plan was precisely what he needed or whether it was the worst thing he had ever considered in his life, but despite his professed hesitation, he knew exactly what he must do.

He would aid Lady Bridget in her quest to dissuade the repulsive Marquess of Thornton from pursuing her. And if in spending some time with the young lady Anthony managed to soothe some of his grief, that would not be the worst outcome. After all, Anastasia would have wanted him to be happy. His grief was heavy and plodding, like a weight that settled upon his shoulders that could never be removed. But for Anastasia's memory, he must try.