Halfway through the soup, Lady Tolworth claimed his attention. “Do you play at the pianoforte, your grace?”
Alex shrugged. “I can, but it’s not something I pursue.”
Not to be deterred, Lady Tolworth said, “A music lover, to be sure. Wait until you hear our Fanny sing. I shouldn’t like to boast, but we are told she sings like a nightingale. You shall have to judge for yourself, your grace.”
“I shall look forward to it.” He smiled at Lady Fannia, then turned to the other sister, the disheveled one. “And do you sing, Lady Annia?”
She shrugged. “Not as beautifully as Fanny.”
Lady Tolworth frowned. “Annie disdains many of the feminine pursuits. While our Fanny dances as smoothly as a swan gliding across a pond, Annie abhors dancing and assemblies.”
He smiled to himself. They had not finished the first course and already the twins’ proud mother had fulfilled two of his prophecies.
“Then it appears Lady Annia and I have much in common,” he said.
Now the shy sister eyed him. Not as boldly as her sister continued to do but as one would gaze upon a long-standing acquaintance. “I believe we do, your grace. I am a student of political philosophy, and from what I’ve read in the newspapers, you are too.”
Now he gave her his full attention. He did not even notice how askew her hair was. “Do not tell me you’ve read Paine?”
“Of course I have.”
He smiled. “Then your father’s Whig sympathies have passed to this daughter?”
“Even were he not my father, I would greatly admire my sire.”
“Have you met Charles James Fox?”
She frowned. “Would that I had. Papa generally meets with him at Brooks.” She brightened. “I have been privileged to hear Mr. Fox speak in the House of Commons. His breadth of knowledge is amazing.”
“I agree, Lady Annia. Allow me to say you’re the only lady I know who sits in the galleries.”
“There is no place I would rather be—at least when a great orator is scheduled to speak.”
“Another matter in which we are in perfect agreement.”
Lady Tolworth cleared her throat and directed her attention at the duke. “Do you enjoy paying morning calls, your grace?”
“No. It’s not something I enjoy.”
“A pity,” the elder lady said. “Our salon is filled every day with gentlemen, but our Fanny has yet to meet a man worthy of one with all her attributes.”
Three, he thought.
He eyed his hostess. “I would say both ladies possess may fine attributes.”
Lady Tolworth glowed. And her lashes lowered.
How he wished he were at the other end of the table where Lord Tolworth was discussing Warren Hastings. The two men’s gazes locked. “I warn you, your grace, my Annie will direct all the conversation to civil liberties. I daresay she knows more about the subject than any of my colleagues—and I assure you no topic could bore the other females more.”
“I do hate the way my dear Tolworth spends so many evenings away,” Lady Tolworth said. “If the House of Lords is not meeting well into the night—which is an exceedingly common occurrence—he’s off at Brooks with the same group of men—along with the Whigs from the House of Commons.” She sighed. “I worry about him eating properly. The dear gets so caught up in his passion for Parliament he forgets to eat.”
Lady Annia peered at him. “Even after a quarter of a century, my mother is still besotted over Papa.”
Lady Tolworth looked at the large ruby ring upon her right hand. “See. The stone’s still red.”
He was puzzled. Why wouldn’t a ruby be red? And what did that have to do with the longevity of her love?
Lady Fannia explained. “Mama’s ring that reportedly dates to Roman times has been passed down the female branch of her family for hundreds of years. If the wearer loves and is loved in return, the stone stays red. It changes colours—to black—when the lady has no love. The ring will come to me.”
“Not necessarily,” Lady Annia interjected.
Lady Fannia stiffened. “I am the oldest.”
“You are not!” the other sister contradicted.
“Girls!” their mother admonished. “No one knows which of you was born first—owing to the incompetence of that nurse. Even in my pitiable state of infirmity on the day of your birth, I ordered that foolish nurse to tie a pink ribbon on the wrist of the girl who came first, but the silly woman forgot.”
“Nevertheless,” Lady Fannia said, “I know I am the oldest.”
Lady Annia glared. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“I do too. I am a half inch taller.”
“Forgive me, dear sister, but that’s the most imbecilic thing I’ve ever heard. Height is not an indication of age.”
Alex was inclined to agree.
Their mother sighed. “Girls!”
“I’m assuming the ring goes to the eldest sister?” he said, looking from one to the other.
“Since we don’t know which of us is the eldest,” the smarter twin said, “it’s best that the ring goes to the first of us who finds a true love.”
“I agree,” Lady Tolworth said, beaming at Lady Fannia.
That daughter straightened up and favored him with a dazzling smile. “That will be me, I am sure,” Lady Fannia said.
“It certainly will,” Lady Annia agreed, “if eagerness to entrap a husband is an indicator.” Then the lady must have realized how uncharitable that comment sounded for she quickly amended it. “Forgive me, Fanny. What I meant was that the ring will likely go to you because you have a stronger desire than I to marry.” Her voice softened. “I truly hope you find your heart’s desire.”
Lady Fannia smiled upon him.
She was exquisite. “A lovely lady like you is sure to capture the heart of a worthy man.”
Her lashes lowered.
* * *
Tonight was every bit as mortifying as the time her drawers fell to the ground as she entered the drawing room filled with nosegay-bearing suitors. Annie still shuddered at the memory.
Even that day, though, she’d been dressed prettily with perfectly coiffed hair—not that any man in that chamber would have noticed. All eyes had latched on to those drawers littering the Aubusson carpet like ink splotches on a white gown.
Tonight’s embarrassment almost eclipsed that debacle. As she had entered the dining chamber, she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the looking glass. What the devil was that bright red thing on her cheek? It looked like . . . like a paw print! Oh dear, Flufferness must have dipped her paws into Mama’s rouge pot!
Annie inwardly groaned. All this humiliation was Fanny’s fault. Eliza would have finished her hair had not Fanny stolen Annie’s bracelet, necessitating the trip to Fanny’s room, which distressed the poor sleeping kitty in Annie’s lap—not that Flufferness was exactly a kitty.
She wished she had allowed Eliza to finish her hair. She wished she were wearing her amethyst bracelet that so beautifully complemented her lavender gown. She wished she could have looked her best when she met the Duke of Axminster for the first time.
Instead she looked like a madwoman who quite possibly thought herself a cat.
Annie suddenly found herself wishing the duke was not so fine looking. Then, perhaps, Fanny wouldn’t have set her cap for him—as she’d so obviously done. One look at him, and Annie had known why he did not attend assemblies. He would be mobbed by females vying to be duchess to the incredibly handsome Duke of Axminster.
Annie herself—never one to ogle over a man—hadn’t been able to remove her gaze from his tall, lithe body. His long limbs were sheathed in gray breeches, and his broad shoulders were encased in a black velvet frockcoat. He eschewed the practice of wearing a wig and merely lightly powdered his dark hair that was bound into a queue that trailed down his back.
In spite of the finery of his clothing, there was a ruggedness about him. Perhaps it was his piercing black eyes beneath t
he hood of dark brows. Or was it the square cut of his powerful jaw? Whatever it was, the man was compelling.
All the newspaper articles she’d read about his supposedly radical beliefs came rushing back. When he started speaking—speaking of topics upon which she agreed wholeheartedly—she would have felt this man was her destiny, were it not for the fact he was a duke. How could a tall, bony girl like her ever hope to capture the affections of a duke?
There was also the matter of his handsomeness. A handsome duke could easily merit the most beautiful, exalted lady in the land. And that most assuredly was not she. Even if she had been at her best. Which she most certainly was not tonight.
Why was it the first time she ever wished to look lovely for a man was the first time she had ever stepped into Society looking so unkempt?
She glared across the table at her twin, who was practically purring over the duke. To her consternation, Annie found herself thinking how prettily her amethyst bracelet complemented Fanny’s pink frock. How she longed to swish the claret in her glass onto Fanny’s dress! Then her sister could experience some of the humiliation Annie suffered. Because of her.
After realizing how pitiable she looked, Annie determined not to talk to the dukely paragon. Then he would not have to peer at her.
This ploy, however, proved unsuccessful. The man persisted in directing questions at her.
“What, my lady, think you of Jeremy Bentham?” he asked Annie.
She regarded him with a smirk. “What makes you think I’ve read him?” Of course, she’d read every single word ever penned by the man.
“I would wager my matched bays that you have.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself. I suppose such a manner is consistent with being a duke.”
He flashed a smile. “Of course, but you’ve not answered me.”
“It pains me to inform you that you’re correct,” she finally said. “I suppose you’re accustomed to always being correct.”
“Really, Annie!” their mother chided. “How can you speak so rudely to our esteemed guest?”
“I beg that you not chastise your daughter, Lady Tolworth,” he said. “Lady Annia and I are merely engaging in friendly banter. Your daughter is most refreshing.”
“Thank you, your grace. I assure you, Lady Annia normally looks much prettier. If you care to see how she usually appears, look at Lady Fannia.” Lady Tolworth gazed with pride upon that sister.
The duke’s gaze flicked to Fanny, and he gave a quick nod. “Allow me to say how lovely you are, Lady Fannia.” He turned to Annie. “And you too, Lady Annia.”
Both girls inclined their heads and quietly expressed their gratitude.
Then he once again began addressing Annie, and she was obliged to converse with him—even if it did mean he’d have a greater likelihood of examining her slovenly appearance.
The remainder of the dinner, they never lacked for a topic to discuss. As long as it pertained to politics.
Did she approve of the French path to liberty? Had she read Edmond Burke’s newest? Had she ever heard Sheridan’s orations in the House of Commons?
That last question launched her into a gush of praise. “I have never heard a more clever man,” she answered. “Sheridan is possessed of great wit as well as a very fine voice which has a depth of volume.”
“I will own,” the duke said, “I would gladly pay a hefty subscription for the privilege of hearing that man speak.”
“Pray, your grace,” Fanny interrupted, “don’t allow my sister to bore you with that incessant talk of politics.”
“But my dear Lady Fannia, it’s not boring to me,” he said.
Fanny’s smile froze. “I daresay you read Rousseau.”
“Who doesn’t?” he responded.
“My sister doesn’t.”
“That’s not true!” Fanny protested.
“Reading a handful of pages is not the same as reading an entire book,” Annie said. “And you never read an entire book.”
“That’s not true!” Because everyone nowadays spouted Rousseau and Voltaire, Fanny knew she could not admit the truth without admitting to an absence of attics.
Annie would not have revealed her sister’s shameful secret were it not for the fact the cheating sister had ruined her night.
How Annie wished she looked pretty. She’d never before known a man she wished to find her beautiful. Until tonight.
And she could not have looked worse.
Now the duke began to discuss Rousseau with Fanny. Would he realize how much she was evading answering him? Would he guess by the few questions she addressed to him, that those were the only passages in Rousseau that she could discuss?
Later that night, when the duke went to take his leave, he eyed Annie, then Fanny, then Lady Tolworth. “Will you be home for callers tomorrow?”
Chapter Two
For all of her nineteen years, Annie had always slept like a baby. Nothing had ever deprived her of sleep—not the night before her come-out, nor the exhilarating night after Papa made his maiden speech in the House of Lords, not even that night the gales had resulted in a dozen broken windows at Brentley Manor.
But last night she had hardly slept a wink. She kept picturing those black eyes of the Duke of Axminster regarding her with amusement. She kept remembering every subject they had discussed. When she thought of him paying a call on her house that afternoon, her insides fluttered, and she launched into a mental catalog of every dress she owned. What would she wear? It was vitally important after last night’s fiasco that she look as pretty as possible today for she thought she might possibly be falling in love with the duke.
She wasn’t sure because she had no basis of comparison. Never before had she been in love. What she was experiencing must be. Only the strongest emotions would elicit such visceral response, and she’d experienced several physical responses to the handsome duke. Her breath had grown short when she’d observed him. Thinking of his coming to her house today sent her heart racing.
She dismissed the green muslin because it did nothing to draw the eye away from her resemblance to a flag pole. The scarlet gave the false impression she possessed a bosom. Which was good. But the colour was perhaps too vibrant for her. Because of her fairness, she thought accentuating the delicacy of her colouring and features would enhance her appeal. Last night’s lavender would have been perfect. If she’d had her amethyst bracelet.
By the time cheerful Eliza entered her bedchamber the following morning, Annie had decided which dress she would wear. “I shall need you to see that my powdery blue muslin is freshly ironed.”
Eliza drew open the draperies at each of the windows in Anne’s corner bedchamber. “Ye’ll be needing it this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“It’s me favorite of all yer gowns. Ye look like an angel in it.”
“Thank you. I hope a certain gentleman agrees.”
Eliza’s face brightened. “I’ve never before seen ye care a fiddle what any gent thinks of ye. Who is this man?”
“I dare not say his name because I’m so unworthy of him. He’s sure to marry well above me.”
“Don’t ye ever go saying such!” Eliza stood before Annie’s bed, gazing at her through narrowed eyes. “There’s not a lady in the three kingdoms who’s as fine as me Lady Annia Childe. Ye’re beautiful and smart and kind. And ye’re an earl’s daughter with a nice dowry. A man could not want for more.”
Annie regarded the former parlor maid she’d elevated to her lady’s maid at the time of her presentation two years earlier. Her copper-colored curls sparkling in the morning light, Eliza was ten years Annie’s senior but displayed a youthful countenance. What a jewel she had turned out to be! She was possessed of an uncommon flair for styling hair—so beautifully that Fanny begrudgingly admitted her skill surpassed that of her own French maid. “I am most fortunate to have you, dear Eliza.”
The door to Annie’s chamber opened, and Fanny stood there in her night shift, smiling
broadly. “Is not the Duke of Axminster the most handsome man in all of England?”
Annie glared. She knew there was nothing Fanny wouldn’t do to snare so lofty a peer. Especially one who was so sinfully handsome. “I daresay you wouldn’t say that if he were a mere mister like your Mr. Douglass.”
“He’s not my Mr. Douglass!”
“Mr. Douglass does adore you.”
Fanny grimaced. “So declares all of his very bad poetry. And I would too find the Duke of Axminster handsome even if he were a footman.”
“There is the fact that you have found the last three footmen to come to Tolworth House exceedingly handsome.”
Fanny frowned. “I hardly ever notice footmen. Unless they are handsome.” She sighed. “Can you credit it—the duke who never pays calls is coming to see me this afternoon!”
“Us. He’s coming to see us. And if the truth be known, it’s obvious he prefers me over you.”
Fanny returned her glare. “He couldn’t possibly. Had you peered into a looking glass last night you would have seen how hideous you looked. I daresay he was just being kind because he took pity on you.”
“The man admires a well-informed mind, and that, my dear sister, is something you do not possess!”
“Did you not say just before we went downstairs last night that you hoped I did marry him? Because I mean to have him.”
Annie sighed. “Another matter over which we are now opposed.”
“You can’t mean that you’re going to try to capture him? You’ve never been interested in men be- – –,” Fanny paused, her face collapsing. “You have fallen for him!”
“I have, but I doubt a man with all his attributes would be interested in a skinny lady void of a nicely rounded bosom. Make that two skinny ladies.”
Fanny came and sat on the edge of Annie’s bed. “I prefer the word slender. And I don’t feel it’s such a detriment. Any man with sense should realize that most slender maidens turn into well-shaped women whereas well-shaped maidens turn into fat matrons.”
Ever My Love: The Lore of the Lucius Ring (The Legend of the Theodosia Sword Book 2) Page 28