“And thank you for accompanying me home, Miss Conolly,” he replied, taking her hand in his and kissing it. “I hope that you have a safe journey, and a pleasant visit with your mother.”
The coachman had climbed down and was now opening the carriage door to let the Duke out, and Anna bid him farewell. She watched him walking away from her up the path to the townhouse for a few seconds before the coachman closed the door and resumed his seat.
Once the Duke left the carriage, Anna sat back in her seat, preparing for the ride home to Wiltshire. She was about to spend hours alone, and with nothing else to pass the time, she gave herself over to thoughts of the Duke.
Anna had longed to lean forward and kiss the Duke during their carriage ride, and now that she was alone, she imagined doing exactly that. She had trembled at the barest touch of his lips on the back of her hand. They were warm, full, and soft. The thought of them pressed against her own lips, filled her with a longing unlike anything she had ever known.
Anna was thankful for the privacy of the carriage, for it allowed her to close her eyes and give herself over to the fantasy. She imagined the Duke’s lips moving from her lips, down to her neck and over her throat. She could almost feel his hair, as she imagined running her fingers through it, pulling him closer to her.
Anna knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that she must not wander any further down this path. She did not see how she could prevent herself from thinking about him. However, her near loss of control in the back of the carriage made it clear that those thoughts were in danger of spilling over into actions.
Chapter 28
Once Miss Connolly had left London, Nathaniel found that he was restless at home and bored by his usual pursuits. He wondered what he had thought about before she had been a part of his life. Time passed slowly, and he found himself thinking of little else but what he might say to her upon her return.
He spent many hours reading, took walks in the park and along the city streets, and continued working on his painting of the prima ballerina. None of these activities held his interest for long. He also had lunch with David at their club early in the week, but he feared that he had been a poor dining companion, distracted as he was.
Deciding that this state of affairs could not continue for the remainder of Miss Connolly's absence, Nathaniel sat down at his desk on the third day. He would take advantage of this time without romantic entanglements to distract him.
Nathaniel decided to review those pieces of legislation most likely to be debated in the House of Lords in the coming weeks. Though he had struggled to understand it in the past, he tried once again to read Lord Allingham's memorandum on the standardization of weights and measures.
As he read, Nathaniel was struck by the fact that he knew so little about the subject. He bought pigment for mixing paints by the ounce but he did not really know what that measurement meant. He had no way of knowing if the ounce that he bought in one shop was equivalent to the ounce that he bought in another.
It had never occurred to him to question this. He had always bought more pigment as soon as he ran out. Now, he wondered what would happen if an unscrupulous vendor sold Miss Connolly a yard of fabric that was not truly a yard. Would she be able to buy more on a ballerina's wages?
He had no idea how much a ballerina earned, nor how much a yard of fabric might cost. Still, he knew enough to understand that Miss Conolly, and people like her, could not afford to be short-changed.
Lord Allingham had not done himself any favors in drafting his memorandum. It was as though he had gone out of his way to make the information as dull and incomprehensible as possible. Surely he ought to have talked about the ways in which this issue impacted real people's lives.
Deciding that he ought to discuss this with a colleague, Nathaniel sent a note to the Earl of Berwick, inviting him to lunch at the club the following day. In addition to discussing their work, this would be a good way for Nathaniel to distract himself from thoughts of Miss Conolly, all while reciprocating the invitation that Berwick had already extended to him.
So, the following day, Nathaniel set out at midday to meet Berwick. He would usually have taken the carriage to the club, but it was in Wiltshire with Miss Conolly, and the weather was fine, so he decided to walk, even though it would take him the better part of an hour.
He had just been seated at a table in the dining room when Berwick arrived. They made pleasant small talk while Berwick sat down and they ordered their food. Once the steaks were served, Nathaniel decided that the time was right to bring up work.
“I've just been reading Lord Allingham’s memorandum again,” he said.
“Have you managed to finish it without falling asleep this time?” Berwick replied, with a wry smile.
“Do you know, this time around, I actually managed to read the whole thing,” Nathaniel replied with a smile to match his friend’s. “It is a shame that Allingham is such an abysmal writer, for I can see now that this is actually a matter of real importance.”
“Indeed it is,” Berwick agreed. “I plan on championing it myself, if Allingham will let me get a word in. Out of curiosity, what made you realize its importance?”
Nathaniel explained his realization that he did not truly understand the measurements used when he purchased items like paint.
“And I realized,” he added, “That for myself, if someone sells me less paint than expected, I can always buy more. But for someone like Miss Conolly, she cannot afford to be sold short.”
“Miss Conolly?” Berwick asked, one eyebrow raised as he spoke.
“Oh.” Nathaniel said, trying to sound casual, but inwardly cursing himself for mentioning her name. “She is merely an acquaintance.”
“An acquaintance about whom you were thinking when you ought to have been focusing on your work?”
Nathaniel was confused by this statement. He could not tell whether Berwick was scolding him or not, but he did not appreciate being spoken to like a naughty schoolboy.
“No need to look so shocked, Yanborough,” Berwick said, with a chuckle. “You will receive no judgement from me for keeping a mistress.”
“Miss Conolly is not my mistress,” Nathaniel said, sharply. He knew that he ought not to be upset at the suggestion. After all, he did not even know what to call his current arrangement.
“My apologies, I ought not to have assumed,” Berwick said. “But do tell me, who is this Miss Conolly? It is clear that you find her most intriguing.”
Nathaniel paused for a moment, wondering whether he ought to tell Berwick the truth. If Miss Conolly had indeed been his mistress, he would have no cause to be cryptic about it here, at the club. Most of the gentlemen present kept mistresses and would not judge him for doing the same.
He knew that he would need to be more cautious in talking about Miss Conolly. He knew now that he was falling in love with her, and he wished to marry her. This would undoubtedly cause a great scandal, and the gentlemen at the club would be far less understanding than if she had been his mistress.
Nathaniel considered all of this in a matter of seconds, and then decided that he could trust Berwick.
“She is the prima ballerina of the London Ballet Company,” Nathaniel said, and a smile crossed his face, unbidden.
“I see,” Berwick said, leaning a bit closer, and looking very curious now.
“She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but even more than that, she is charming, kind, and clever.”
“And you are quite sure that she is not your mistress?” Berwick asked, sounding amused. “You are obviously smitten.”
“When we met, I asked if I could call upon her the next day and she told me, quite directly, that she would not consent to be my mistress,” Nathaniel said. “I believe that she disapproves of such arrangements on principle.”
“Well, I admit that I know little of ballerinas, but in my limited knowledge, I believe that makes her most unusual.”
“I believe that you are rig
ht,” Nathaniel agreed. “Though I knew almost nothing of the ballet until very recently.”
“I take it that you have been learning about it from the virtuous Miss Conolly?” Berwick asked.
“Yes, I have been calling on her most days,” Nathaniel said, wistfully. “She is not in London this week, as she has gone to visit her mother, so I suppose that I have been thinking of her quite a bit in her absence.”
Berwick was studying Nathaniel now, a serious look upon his face. “What, exactly, do you hope to gain by these social calls you have paid to Miss Conolly?”
“What do you mean?” Nathaniel asked, although he thought that he knew the answer.
“I mean, you are clearly infatuated with her, but she will not be your mistress.”
“Nor do I wish her to be.” Nathaniel interjected.
“Yes, I see,” Berwick said. “So what do you want her to be?”
Nathaniel took a deep breath, and looked around the dining room. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him or Berwick.
Ought I to tell him what I wish for?
After a moment of silence, during which Berwick continued to scrutinize him, Nathaniel said, “I want her to be my wife.”
“Ah,” Berwick said, with a smile. “Well, I can hardly fault you for that, having married for love myself.”
“Oh.” Nathaniel said, “I had forgotten.”
“Yes, it was quite a scandal at the time, a Viscount marrying the daughter of a wine merchant.”
“Of course,” Nathaniel said, remembering now that his mother had talked about it at the time. She had crooned about how sorry she felt for the family dealing with the consequences of their son’s choice. However, it could not have been any clearer that she enjoyed telling the story at every opportunity.
“No doubt you heard many noble ladies bemoaning my terrible choice at the time,” Berwick said, as though he had read Nathaniel’s mind. “But as you can see, two years later, the only person who still talks of it is my mother.”
“Is your mother still upset?” Nathaniel asked, wondering just how long it might take for his own mother to get over such a scandal.
“I suppose she still wishes that I had made a different choice,” Berwick said. “But in the end she has come to accept Mary as her daughter-in-law, especially now that Mary is carrying her first grandchild.”
“Congratulations,” Nathaniel said, feeling genuinely happy for his colleague, who he was now beginning to think of a friend. “You must be very excited.”
“Indeed, I am,” Berwick said, a wistful smile gracing his face. “I think that I am, perhaps, one of the luckiest men in England.”
“That is an enviable attitude, to be sure,” Nathaniel said, wondering if he might ever feel as happy as Berwick seemed to be.
“Most of our colleagues count themselves lucky if they can tolerate their wives,” Berwick reflected. “So they keep mistresses, whose company they much prefer.”
Nathaniel nodded his head at this, thinking of David and his wife, and Miss Rowley. No doubt David would have said that he was happy enough with the arrangement, but Nathaniel could not really see how.
“Of course, I can hardly blame them,” Berwick said. “They do what is expected of them, and take their pleasures where they can. I suppose some of them are happy enough with such arrangements. But I…”
He trailed off here for a moment, smiling, and appearing to be lost in thought. Nathaniel said noting, but looked at his companion, eager to hear the end of this sentence.
After a few seconds, Berwick continued, “I go home every evening, happy to see my wife, the woman I love. The only woman with whom I wish to spend my evenings, is the woman with whom I actually spend my evenings. And soon enough we will spend them with our child, as well.”
Nathaniel pictured this cozy scene, and found that it was easy to imagine himself and Miss Conolly in place of Lord and Lady Berwick. He knew, with absolute certainty, that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. He could not, would not, give it up for the sake of a politically advantageous marriage.
“You are very lucky, indeed,” Nathaniel said. “I think that I should be very happy if I could have a life such as yours.”
“Well, perhaps you can,” Berwick said, sounding more serious now. “You love Miss Conolly, that much is clear to me. Does she love you?”
Does Miss Conolly love me? Why would she consent to see me so often if not?
“I cannot be sure,” Nathaniel said, “but I think that she might. I cannot deny that there is a spark between us whenever we are near each other.”
“Well then, I think you know what you must do,” Berwick said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Chapter 29
Anna was enjoying her visit to Wiltshire, but she could not deny that she missed the hustle and bustle of her life in London. She could not understand how her mother could be content to live alone in this cottage, in this tiny village with no prospect of excitement, without even new people to meet.
She had spent her days helping her mother with work around the house, cleaning the kitchen and helping to knead and bake bread each day. This morning she was helping her mother with the mending that she took in from the neighbors to earn her living.
The two women sat by the window, with a basket of clothes in-between them. Each held her work close to the window to see it more clearly in the sunlight. It was the third day of her visit, and Anna was beginning to fear that they had run out of things to talk about.
Her mother had been eager to tell her the village gossip, but the village was so small that this had taken hardly any time at all. Even after a lengthy discussion of a neighbor who had been married in haste and given birth only six months later, there had been little more to say after only a few hours.
Anna had told her mother a bit about her life in London, but was hesitant to speak of the Duke of Yanborough. She knew that it would be impossible to explain their arrangement without raising awkward questions. She could not really even explain it to herself. However, so much of her time had been spent with the Duke of late that she had little else to report.
Perhaps it was a fear of uncomfortable silences, but by that third day, Anna thought that she might do better to tell her mother about the Duke than to continue to hide her association with him.
“I suppose you must be missing London,” Anna’s mother said, glancing up at her daughter as she spoke.
“I do,” Anna said, “though I am enjoying my time here as well.”
Her mother smiled at her ruefully, “Well, it is kind of you to say that, my lovely, but you must be missing city life. You were always meant for something bigger than life in the village.”
“Oh, Mama,” Anna said, feeling a pang of guilt. Her mother was right about everything. Even before she had moved to London, Anna had dreamed of leaving the village behind. She felt terrible about this, for leaving her mother behind. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” her mother asked. “You can’t help it, after all.”
“I know,” Anna said, with a sigh. “I just feel badly for leaving you behind when I moved to town.”
“Bah,” her mother said, waving a hand to dismiss this idea before returning to her work. “You could never be happy staying here in the village, and I could never be happy in London. I like my quiet life here in Wiltshire.”
“Still, I wish that I could see you more often,” Anna said.
“Well, now that you can afford to hire a carriage to come home, perhaps you will be able to visit more often,” her mother replied. Anna saw her mother’s eyebrow arch slightly at this, and wondered if she suspected anything about her use of the carriage.
“Well,” Anna said, pausing for a moment. “I may not always be able to use the carriage.”
“No?” her mother asked. “And why is that?”
Anna thought that she might as well tell her mother the truth about the Duke, having come this far. She had never been able to keep secrets from her
mother, and it seemed that nothing had changed even now that she was an adult.
Of course, there is no need to share too many details with Mama—no reason to tell her about the way that I felt riding with him in the carriage.
“The carriage actually belongs to an acquaintance of mine,” Anna said, looking determinedly at the stocking she was darning. “He was kind enough to lend me the use of it so that I could come home to see you.”
“Well,” her mother said, sounding surprised. “That was exceptionally generous of him.”
“It was,” Anna said, smiling down at her hands in her lap.
“And who is this very generous acquaintance of yours?”
The Art 0f Pleasuring A Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 21