Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Anthony tilted his head, gazing at the painting of Anastasia. It remained incomplete, but he had made significant progress on the piece. A few times, he had regretted his decision to finish the painting, but he persisted. While there was much to do, he had not caused the sort of irreversible damage to the piece that he had feared.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Enter!"

The maid Elizabeth opened the door and curtsied. "Mr. David Russell has asked to see you, Your Grace."

Anthony frowned. He glanced at the window, noting that the sun was high in the sky. It seemed as though he had been unaware of the time passing. He smiled wryly at his own folly.

"Tell him that I shall only be a moment."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Anthony carefully closed the paints and cleaned his brushes, just as he had always done. When he had first begun to paint, with Anastasia's encouragement, she had playfully chastised him for asking his staff to clean his materials for him. A proper artist tended to his own materials, she said. She had shown him how to clean all the brushes and told him all the little things artists did to ensure their materials were ready for the next session.

Once he was finished, he locked the studio behind him. He set a brisk pace as he descended the stairs. He did not wish to keep Mr. Russell waiting. Anthony entered his study, which was where he always met his guests. Mr. Russell was already seated before Anthony's desk, but he rose at once.

"Your Grace," he said.

"Mr. Russell, a pleasure. Please," Anthony said, gesturing to the chair. "Would you like a glass of brandy?"

"That sounds lovely. Thank you."

Anthony filled the two glasses with his best brandy and offered one to Mr. Russell. The man smiled and raised his glass into a small toast. Anthony placed the stopper back into the crystal decanter and took a sip of his own drink. He savored the sweetness of the amber-brown spirit on his tongue.

"I will admit that I was surprised to receive your invitation, Your Grace," Mr. Russell said. "I do not think we have ever spoken to one another outside of social functions."

"We have not," Anthony agreed. "I hope you do not take offense, Mr. Russell. Since becoming the Duke of Hamilton, I have seldom seen any man outside of social functions. I have been too occupied with other matters."

His decision to invite Mr. Russell to pay him a visit had not even been a calculated one, but rather an act of impulsivity. Mr. Russell seemed to be a likable man, and he knew what it was to love one of the Duke of Norfolk's daughters. He might understand something about the complicated feelings that surged through Anthony every time that he thought of Bridget.

"Understandable," replied Mr. Russell. "I am sure managing a dukedom is an enormous responsibility, more so than being a merchant's son."

To that, Anthony had nothing to say. He imagined Mr. Russell was likely right, but he had not the faintest idea how to address the implied compliment.

"You are getting a small measure of what it involves," Anthony said, "since you are attending so many functions this Season."

"Well," Mr. Russell said, "I am pleased to have received so many invitations. In the past, I have only received a few."

"From my predecessor."

"Largely, yes."

"I suspect your affections for a certain young lady have not gone unnoticed," Anthony said.

"I do not see what that has to do with anything," Mr. Russell replied, "unless you mean to imply that Lady Anna has requested my presence at these events."

"I suspect that because you have shown an interest in Lady Anna, many of the ton are curious about you. It is seldom that a man who is not one of the ton gains the affections of a lady, particularly one as well-born as the Duke of Norfolk's daughter."

"Well, I—I am quite fortunate in that regard. I can scarcely believe that Lady Anna does not have a veritable army of suitors vying for her attention," Mr. Russell said. "She is such an extraordinary young woman and such a talented artist!"

"Are you also an artist?" Anthony asked.

"I enjoy art," he replied, "and I am an avid collector. However, I have never been particularly interested in creating art of my own. I do not have the patience required to become very good."

"I understand."

"And you, Your Grace?" Mr. Russell asked.

"I used to paint," Anthony replied. "I was never particularly talented, but I found the act of creation to be soothing. It helped that I had… there was a friend who enjoyed painting, and I loved it because she did."

If Mr. Russell noticed that Anthony's voice caught a little, he had the grace not to mention it. "Of course," he said. "I find that most activities are more enjoyable if you have a companion who also derives pleasure from them."

Anthony nodded. He sipped his brandy, thinking. He realized now that he had not the faintest idea what to say to the man.

"What did you and my predecessor discuss when you came to Hamilton House?"

"Business," Mr. Russell said, smiling wryly.

"Of course."

Mr. Russell sighed. "I suspect that you did not ask me here to discuss that, however, or you would have more papers spread across your desk."

"That is very astute of you," Anthony replied. "You are right. I did not wish to speak about business. I must confess that I am having some difficulty in understanding my own feelings toward a certain young lady."

"Lady Bridget, I assume."

"Indeed."

"Anna has told me that Lady Bridget speaks often of you," Mr. Russell said.

"What does she say?" Anthony asked.

"Only complimentary things, I assure you," Mr. Russell said. "Lady Bridget speaks of your gentlemanly behavior and how much she enjoys your company. She has expressed a desire for you to come to call."

Anthony winced. A gentleman who was courting a woman would have called on her already. He had thought of calling on her many times, but he had yet to actually do it. Visiting Bridget in her own home felt too intimate, somehow. It made him fear that he might be unable to resist her any longer, and he needed to resist her.

For Anastasia's sake as well as for Bridget's own. He must remember that she had trusted him to feign interest in her, and he could not let himself be too revealing with his own burgeoning affection for fear that he might betray her trust.

"I should do that," Anthony conceded.

Maybe he was thinking more about the dangers of such a visit than he ought to, for any visit would surely be chaperoned. He would be unlikely to have the opportunity to do anything more than smile at the young lady.

"I ought to call on Anna," Mr. Russell said. "I have not yet done so."

"Is there any particular reason for that?" Anthony asked.

"My own hesitation to interact with her mother and father," Mr. Russell said. "There is something about how the Duke of Norfolk looks at me that makes me suspect he finds me… unworthy of his daughter."

Anthony blinked, taken aback. "Has His Grace ever expressed that?"

"No, not in words," Mr. Russell replied. "Perhaps I am imagining dislike where there is none, but even if His Grace does find me lacking, it does make a great deal of sense."

"If it is any consolation, I do find that His Grace's taste is…" Anthony trailed off, realizing too late that he should have said nothing.

"Is…?" Mr. Russell trailed off.

"I do not wish to sound unkind," Anthony said, absentmindedly swirling his brandy in the glass. "But His Grace… there is something I do not understand about the man."

"What do you mean?"

"I will tell you," Anthony said, "but this matter must remain between us. I do not wish for the ton to learn of what I am about to speak, for it may be something which Bridget does not wish to be known by others."

"Of course, I would not tell a soul. Perhaps it is best that I not know, though."

Bridget had never told Anthony that he could not speak to others about her situation, and he suspected Mr. Russell could be trusted to keep a secret.

"His Grace seemingly considered the Marquess of Thornton as a potential suitor for his daughter," Anthony replied.

Mr. Russell furrowed his brow. "Is that not the gentleman who yelled at your servant?"

"Yes," Anthony replied.

"Does Lady Bridget have some fondness for him?"

"Not at all," Anthony said. "And I can imagine why. Bridget is a young woman in the bloom of her youth, and Lord Thornton is significantly older."

"Why did His Grace insist upon the match?" Mr. Russell asked. "I suppose I could understand if Lady Bridget were unable to attract suitors, but as beautiful and kind as she is, I imagine many men would be vying for her attention."

"As would I."

Anthony hadn't noticed many men trying to gain Bridget's affection, but perhaps that was because his own interest in the lady had been noticed. There were few men who could compete with a duke, much less one with a considerable fortune.

"There must be some reason, though," Mr. Russell mused.

"I believe the Marquess of Thornton is His Grace's business partner. Perhaps there is some agreement between them," Anthony said.

"If they are business partners, surely, their goodwill between one another need not be contingent on marrying Bridget," Mr. Russell said.

"I suppose you are right," Anthony replied, "but it is not as though I can simply ask the Duke of Norfolk why he wishes for Bridget to wed Lord Thornton. That would be too presumptuous."

Mr. Russell shook his head. "Sometimes I wish people would simply say what they mean. I feel as though everyone in the ton has so many secrets, and even the most innocuous statement may have a dozen different meanings. It is as though I speak a language that is different from everyone in the ton."

"Sometimes, I feel like that, too," Anthony said. "It is difficult to become accustomed to our world. I felt similarly when I first became the Duke of Hamilton. Everyone expected that His Grace and the dowager duchess would produce an heir, so I never anticipated that I might be a duke."

"You have handled it wonderfully," Mr. Russell said.

Anthony smiled. He doubted Mr. Russell would know if Anthony was an effective duke or not, but the compliment was kind, nonetheless.

"Thank you. And you have handled interactions with the ton quite well," Anthony said.

"Well, I follow Anna's sterling example," he replied. "She has been a gracious and patient instructor."

"That is good," Anthony said.

Mr. Russell nodded and raised his glass of brandy. "To the daughters of the Duke of Norfolk?"

To the most complicated lady that Anthony had ever interacted with. Offering a small smile, he clinked his glass against the one Mr. Russell held.

"To the Duke of Norfolk's daughters," he said. "The two most brilliant, enchanting ladies in the entire ton."

Anthony drank the last of his brandy in a single gulp, savoring the warm and familiar taste. He began to wonder in earnest why the Duke of Norfolk would choose to wed his lovely daughter to such an old and unpleasant man. For the first time since meeting Bridget, Anthony considered that mystery might be one worth unraveling.