Chapter 28

Frances arrived home with Anthony and was relieved to find Sara had already returned. The lady's maid rushed to her side, but Frances merely said she would explain later.

"Shall we speak in my study?" Anthony suggested, his tone somber.

"Upstairs? In another of your private sanctuaries? Are you certain the house won't crumble in on itself if I venture across the threshold?" Frances asked darkly.

"I see you are displeased about so many rules. I assure you that I understand, but once I've explained, you will as well."

Frances nodded curtly then took to the stairs without waiting to see if he followed. Anthony did trail behind her, but she was not interested in waiting for him to escort her. She reached his study then stopped, letting him choose to open the door.

"Go on. You may open it if it matters to you," he suggested, but Frances only remained proudly silent. Anthony sighed in frustration and opened the door, then gestured for her to go ahead of him.

Frances was immediately struck by the austere plainness to the room. A simple wooden table and straight-backed chair served as the desk, and a pair of mismatched but well-worn chairs faced it. It had clearly been some time since anyone had had cause to sit down with him, for Anthony had to hurry over and move stacks of books from the seats before piling them on the floor behind the window. She waited until he nodded to a chair before lowering herself to perch on the edge of the seat, indicating that she did not intend to stay very long.

"Frances, I don't know where to begin or how to even explain myself," Anthoy began.

"Of course not," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"It is not only that my emotions are a mystery to me, it's more that I know what I did was deceitful. I'm very sorry. I never intended for you to discover my motives or ever feel that your marriage was lacking in any way."

Frances only nodded.

"But now that you've met my sister and you know of her circumstances, I hope you will see that what I did was not meant to hurt you. It was only the actions of a desperate man."

"Do you find that many women are happy to hear this sort of thing? That their husbands didn't wish to marry them but had to in order to achieve some other end?"

"No, I do not. I have little experience with it, of course, but I can easily understand why you are hurt. You are well within your rights to despise me, and I will take all of the responsibility for that."

Frances didn't reply. She had expected stoic silence or stone-faced indifference to her pain, but instead Anthony was already shouldering all of the blame. But for what? And what reason?

"You've now met my sister," he continued, looking down. There was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he spoke of her. "She is truly delightful, isn't she?"

"I can agree to that, though I wish I'd gotten the chance to enjoy her company from the moment I arrived."

Anthony winced, but he nodded. "She has always been such a joyful person, even through all the times when we thought she might leave this world. Her suffering has been great since the moment she first drew breath, and I vowed that I would protect her always. I know that I make grave mistakes, Frances, but I hope you can trust that my intentions were always good.

"Abigail has had to keep to the house in order to avoid anything that can cause her to take ill. You may have seen her attempts at walking, at speaking too long or laughing too loudly… all of those things draw the very strength from her thin body."

"And you thought that keeping her captive in the attic would prolong her life somehow?" Frances asked, accusing him.

"Captive? On the contrary, I beg her often to come down and live among us!" Anthony argued, his scowl returning. "I would never lock her away as though ashamed of her!"

"I see. My apologies," Frances admitted quickly.

"This arrangement is Abigail's wish. She does not enjoy meeting new people, whether out of fear that they will reject her or worry that a mere fluttering of a breeze can make her ill again. Whatever the cause, if my sister wishes it, I will climb over mountaintops to oblige. She matters that much to me."

"That is quite noble of you. But what has any of this to do with me?"

"Sir Perry insists that he has a contract from my father to marry her," Anthony said, leveling his gaze at Frances as if studying her response.

Frances felt her mouth fall open in shock, but she did not care for manners at the moment. Abigail? Married to that horrible man? It was unthinkable. It was no wonder Anthony had done his utmost to conceal her.

"How can he possibly expect… she's a child! And in such poor health! How does he intend to care for her? How would he ever think she was able to—" Frances stopped, her agitation enraging her.

"I know. I'm sure you can see why I've been an utter tyrant where she is concerned."

"I do indeed. I apologize for not trusting you," she confessed, feeling the sting of shame. "However, I wish you'd thought you could trust me. Since I was only a ruse, I suppose you could not be bothered to get to know me well enough."

"Frances, I must explain that," Anthony began, and Frances stared at him in anticipation. It seemed to have unnerved him, for he stopped to flounder for the right words. He finally looked defeated and confessed, "It's true. I only needed a wife who would marry me at once, someone who would be so grateful to marry well that she would overlook all of these other issues. The fact that you are beautiful and smart and kind was all merely my good fortune."

"What was so pressing that you had to debase the both of us and marry in such haste?"

Anthony looked down at his folded hands, taking so long that Frances began to fear the worst.

"Someone informed Sir Perry about all the things I've bought for Abigail. I do not know how he found out, but he did. It caused him to believe that she was here in the city and not away at a hospital on the Continent as I'd told him."

"Who would do something so outrageous?" Frances asked, burning with anger for Abigail.

"I know not, but I suspected some of our servants or the shops where I'd ordered some of her things. That is the reason there were but three servants here, why they never complained about the labor of seeing to a house of this size. That was also why there were several mistaken parcels that arrived for you. It was intentional, for the items could easily be believed to be for you instead of Abigail. By claiming that these items were for my betrothed and then my wife, I was able to put him off for much longer. But eventually, I had to produce this wife, else he'd know I had lied."

Anthony took his time looking up at Frances, and for the first time, she saw very real, heartfelt emotion on his face. His eyes had softened, and the deep guilt he bore was clear to see. The flames of humiliation Frances had endured began to snuff out, knowing that at least Anthony had some semblance of good reason for his actions.

"I'm so sorry, Frances. I never intended for you to know any of this. I sought you out, asked for your hand, and made quick work of marrying you, all while telling myself I would give you a good life and a good home. I had every intention of treating you well and showing you all the kindness and respect you deserve. I intended to take my motives to my grave without you ever knowing of my scheme."

"You would have pretended to love me, you mean," she said, her voice cracking as the tears began to fall.

"Yes. Though I had every reason to hope that my feelings for you would grow, that we could come to be quite fond of each other. I convinced myself that countless other marriages had begun the same way, and no one had suffered for it. But with every waking day, I felt like more and more of a villain for stealing away your chance at real love."

Frances was silent as she pondered his confession. She was furious and hurt and embarrassed for believing him, but she had to admit that his motives had been pure. It pained her to know that she had been toyed with, but had she not done the same thing to Anthony? Hadn't she accepted his offer only to avoid the very fate that Abigail was facing?

There was also the matter of Anthony's words, uttered while Frances was hiding in Abigail's room, came rushing back to her. He had confessed his love for her, but she wasn't about to let him know that she knew.

"Anthony, I am not blameless in all of this. I accepted your offer knowing that we were not a love match, but only because it afforded me a better option. I would be the worst sort of hypocrite if I was angry at you now."

And I would be a liar if I said I did not love a man who cares so much for his invalid sister that he would stage an entire marriage to protect her! Franes thought, though she didn't trust her heart enough to say so.

"Can I hope that someday you'll be able to forgive me?" he pressed, looking up at her from across his desk.

"I already have," she promised.

Frances leaned forward and stretched her arm across the desk, opening her hand for Anthony to take. He looked at it for only a second before taking it in his and wrapping his fingers around it tightly. He held her hand in both of his, the strength and protection that had been missing all her life seeping into her bones.

This man has said that he loves me, even if he didn't speak such words to me, she reminded herself with a smile. For now, that may have to be enough.

"What do we do now?" Anthony asked, his hands still lingering on hers.

"Well, I should think we begin again now that we know each other better. This time, I shall not agree to things that I don't intend to follow through on, and you shall trust me enough to tell me what is going on here."

Anthony stiffened, but soon enough he nodded thoughtfully.

"So, you've met my sister," he began, and the story poured forth. There had been a time when Abigail was quite content to live downstairs and be doted on by a house filled with a small quantity of servants. Friends, close ones though few in number, would pay a visit and come to dinner. Through it all, Anthony had been reserved but appreciative.

"Then, Sir Perry arrived. He brought a contract from my father, and though as the current duke I have the right to nullify it if I wish, he threatened to ruin my good name and Abigail's reputation. He stated that he would make it known that he was the one to break the contract on account of her ‘loose morals.'"

"That's unthinkable!" Frances protested.

"He did not know about her health, merely that she existed," Anthony explained. "When I informed him that there would be no marriage due to her condition, I paid him a good sum for severing the contract and sent him on his way. I thought that was the end of it, but it is not. He's been demanding more and more payments from time to time, going on for almost a year now."

"And there's nothing your solicitor can do about it?"

"Not without exposing Abigail and informing all of the city that she's frail. She would hate that. Besides, she only knows about the first meeting, and that Sir Perry inquires from time to time. She is not aware that he is practically extorting money from me because of her."

"I see. So, between outfitting her apartments and showering her with gifts like an adoring brother, plus this money that the baronet is bleeding from you, it's no wonder that your house is in dire need of repair," Frances said, seeing the problem in a new light.

"This house was one of my father's greatest sources of pride. It represented the toils of generations before us. Letting it fall half into ruin has been another knife in my already embattled heart."

Frances clucked sadly. She was overcome with sympathy, though she could well understand why any man would strive to keep these things a secret.

"What must we do to fix all of this?" she asked. "I can only think of one solution, and I don't think either of us will enjoy going to the gallows for murdering this Sir Perry."

"I must stop him before he causes anyone harm. At first, I thought he was merely a nuisance, that he would go away and leave us alone if he got what he wanted. Now, I've learned that he is ruthless. He has allegedly killed before, and I'm of the mind that he will have no reservations about doing it again. I have yet to come up with any answers, though."

"I may have a plan," Frances began, measuring her words out of caution, "but I'm certain you will take issue with it."

"I fear I may already agree with you, but I cannot know until you tell me."

"All right. But just remember something," Frances warned, smiling at him and grasping his hand again. "You have to trust me."