by Tanya Wilde
“Why would a creature as beautiful as you wish to wed? You could hold the world in the palm of your hand if you so desired, yet you waste such a gift on marriage.”
Her heart fluttered at the ridiculous compliment. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous man!
“For one, marriage will protect me from rogues that accost young women on balconies.”
A warm, velvety chuckle filled the space between them, making her skin tingle. “I have only ever accosted you on a balcony, my dear,” the duke murmured.
“Nevertheless, I am sure there are more than enough willing women to appease your desires.”
He waved her comment aside. “Spend one night with me, Fidelia, and you can name any man, and he will be yours.”
Anastacia coughed to cover the gurgling sound that had erupted at the use the name. Fidelia. Dear Lord.
Still, his words rankled. “And just how will you manage to convince whatever poor lord I name to marry a woman sullied by your touch?”
“You will be surprised, my dear, what a man can accomplish if he puts his mind to it.”
Just then, and much to her distress, Lord Averly appeared at the entrance. She would rather not have had him witness her exchange with the duke. And any doubts, however minuscule, she may have harbored about the duke’s reputation, that he was nothing but a rogue, vanished with the faltering smile of Averly when he spotted Blackcress. His eyes darted between them before he said, “Lady Anastacia, I believe this is my dance.”
Anastacia turned to give the younger lord what she hoped was her finest smile. “Lord Averly, you are just in time to save me from making an utter fool of myself. It seemed I interrupted his grace in a private moment when I came out for a breath of air.”
The duke stiffened beside her. Too late, Anastacia recalled they were the only people on the balcony. Oh drat. What would a private moment alone on the balcony entail? Retching in the plants? Relieving himself over the balustrade? From the corner of her eye, Anastacia noted the glare he shot her way but was grateful he remained silent.
The temperature in her cheeks rose.
Lord Averly, bless his heart, held out his arm, and Anastacia wasted no time placing her hand on the soft material of his jacket. Over her shoulder, she remarked, “My apologies, your grace, I hope to be more vigilant in the future.”
She would be much more vigilant!
Lord Averly turned on his heel and led her into their dance without so much as an acknowledgment to the duke, his displeasure clear. All the while, Anastacia could not help but imagine the duke’s dark, heated eyes burning into her back. The entire time, pondering what treasures she’d discover in sharing his bed for one night.
Chapter 3
The next afternoon, Anastacia attended the Countess of Bedford’s tea party. As it was quite a hot day, all of the guests gathered in the garden for the hope of a breeze. And, as it was also frowned upon for a young unmarried woman to attend any event unchaperoned, Anastacia had brought along a hired chaperone, one acting the part of a distant widowed relative. Luckily for her, nary one person took close note of her companion, except to see that one accompanied her. Not even during the previous evening were there any inquiries—at least certainly not enough to raise any valid questions.
Anastacia had never been partial to these sort of gatherings. For one, she preferred the dark brew of coffee. For another, they had always seemed rather pretentious to her, even in the country. They appeared to be more about rude gossip than sharing interesting stories. But today, she tolerated the quips of the elite for one reason and one reason alone: Lord Averly.
“—Did you see Lady Honoria’s hair?
—What is Miss Fairchild wearing?
—Never mind Miss Fairchild, Lady Constance has grown as fat as a pig!
Attempting to block out the titters around her, Anastacia knew this tea party provided the perfect opportunity to enter phase two of her plan for capturing the hand of the dashing lord. So far, her plan consisted of three phases. The first had been to catch his attention, which she already accomplished. Despite the unfortunate encounter with the Duke of Blackcress, who had almost ruined her carefully laid plans, Lord Averly had remained charmed by her presence.
With the first phase out of the way, Anastacia could now focus her attention on further enticing a marriage proposal from him with a funny remark here and there or perhaps a kiss to tempt him. Just enough to keep his interest. She wanted him to become enamored with her, so enthralled by her flattery that when she, in the third phase, appealed to his heroic side, the basic urge to rescue a damsel would compel him to save her.
No gentleman could resist the title of hero. Or so she hoped.
Of course, that still did not mean her plan would succeed. Too many variables depended on others, like her uncle. If he returned to the estate earlier than expected, he would find her missing and hunt her down. Or, God forbid, if someone inquired about her family tree and discovered her distant widowed aunt was no relative at all, but a seamstress who wished to earn an extra pound. Anastacia would be done for. But she was nothing if not thorough, with plans B, C, and D in her pocket. She had thought of everything, even the possibility that one of her uncle’s friends would see through her ruse and send word to him.
So far, however, Anastacia had been accepted back into society with no one questioning her presence. And why would they? There was nothing unusual about a lady joining the marriage mart, especially with an acceptable chaperone. But it was only a matter of time before news spread of her return to society or some busybody obsessed with social distinctions opened Debrett’s and began to tattle. Both options doomed her to a fate too terrible to contemplate.
Upon entering the parlor, Anastacia was greeted by the twins, Lord Henry and Lady Harriet, whom she had met years earlier.
“Lady Anastacia, it has been ages,” Lord Henry said with a warm smile, his sister following suit.
Anastacia returned their reception with a smile of her own. “Indeed, and yet you look no older than the last time I saw you,” she murmured, and they laughed merrily at her compliment.
From the corner of her eye, she spied Lord Averly through the connecting doors that led to the garden. Her smile broadened just a touch as she gazed up at Lord Henry.
Part of the second phase included a bit of competition. It was always good for a gentleman to see that a lady had plenty of suitors to choose from. That and Anastacia did not want to seem too desperate for Averly’s attention; such desperation could risk losing his interest altogether. So she pretended not to take note of him when he glanced her way.
Anastacia’s smile widened in delight, and Lord Henry blushed. “My lord, may I say you look quite dashing today.”
“Oh! It’s his new jacket,” Lady Harriet exclaimed. “I told him he would look smashing in royal blue.”
“Indeed, Lady Harriet,” Anastacia murmured. “The color brings out his eyes.”
At the compliment, the young lord returned her grin and captured her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of her palm. To her further enjoyment, she glimpsed Lord Averly angle her way again.
The unexpected head of the Countess of Bedford, their hostess, suddenly popped into Anastacia’s line of vision. The woman’s keen eyes scrutinized her chaperone, her lips pulling into a thin smile before turning to Anastacia.
Something akin to dread feathered down her spine.
“Lady Anastacia, allow me to say how pleased I am you decided to attend, your uncle is a dear friend of my husband.”
Oh no.
“Come, let us take a turn about the garden,” the countess murmured, not sparing her other three guests even the slightest of glances.
Anastacia sent them an apologetic smile as Lady Bedford led her outside. She quickly considered what she knew of the woman. Not much, only that Lady Bedford enjoyed taking lovers, mostly young married men—or so it was rumored.
Her stomach constricted into a painful knot as a sudden thought occurred to her. If the
countess was acquainted with her uncle, had she figured out Anastacia’s ruse? Did she know Anastacia had no such aunt? And would the countess send word to her uncle?
“How does Sheffield fair?” Lady Bedford asked, her eyes never straying from her guests.
An unpleasant taste formed in Anastacia’s mouth at the question. “Very well, though he regrets not being able to join me in London.”
“Yes, yes, he is an important man now.”
Anastacia only managed a nod. Like the previous night, warning bells rang loud in her head. She noted Lord Averly, who had taken notice of the interest that buzzed around her name at the attention of the countess. And she nearly sagged in relief when Averly made his way in their direction, a happy smile on his countenance as he bowed before them.
“Lady Bedford, Lady Anastacia, I daresay you are the most beautiful ladies in attendance.”
Anastacia felt her cheeks stain a pretty red.
The countess only harrumphed.
“I had hoped to steal Lady Anastacia away for a stroll down the garden paths,” he addressed the hostess directly. “They are quite magnificent.”
Anastacia glanced over to the Countess, who gave a curt nod and said, “Do give my regards to your uncle, Anastacia, when he returns to London.” And with those parting words, words that caused Anastacia’s heart to slam against her ribs, the countess took her leave from them.
Would she ever escape feeling as if the fingers of fear constantly gripped her throat, her belly, her soul?
“Lady Anastacia?”
She managed a smile for Lord Averly. “By all means, my lord, lead away.”
He placed her hand in the crook of his arm, leading her onward. “Have I mentioned how lovely you look, my lady?” he murmured with a wicked grin.
“Yes, but I thank you, all the same, my lord. You look quite dapper yourself. Blue seems to be the color of the season.” She batted her lashes up at him, and he chuckled, a rich sound she imagined had made many women swoon.
“No one has ever called me dapper before. I think I like it. As for fashion, perhaps green shall make a comeback next year,” Averly teased before continuing curiously, “So tell me, what brings a pretty lady to London so late in the season?”
Anastacia paused. She had not expected that question, not so soon. Not at all. The reason should be clear enough but she suspected, at least to others, with the season almost over, it may seem pointless to go husband hunting. However, it was still too soon to mention marriage in his company.
“Unfortunately, circumstances prevented me from arriving earlier to enjoy the advantages of London this time of year, but I gathered a few weeks are better than none.” She glanced up at him, their eyes locking. “I could not bear to miss one more tea party.”
His head tilted back as he laughed, the action causing his blond hair to bounce. “Tea parties are all the more exciting since your arrival, Lady Anastacia. Needless to say, you did not miss much, except for the elopement of Lady Penelope, which caused quite the scandal.”
“How so?”
“She eloped with the son of a pirate much to the detriment of her father.”
A bubble of laughter ignited in her throat. “Oh dear, I suppose there are worse men to marry.”
“Indeed.”
They walked in silence for about ten paces before he suddenly halted and turned toward her, his eyes alight with interest. “I have a confession, my lady.”
“Oh? Will I be shocked by this admission?” she said, a slight smile teasing the corners of her mouth.
“I daresay you will.”
Anastacia held her breath as she glanced at him with all the expectancy of a small child. This was it: the defining moment of her future.
“You have intrigued me from the moment I met you at the Hamilton musical, and since then, I find myself overcome with deep affection for you.”
Oh, thank God.
“My lord, I do not know what to say. I myself find you intriguing and am quite overwhelmed, if I may say so, by unexpected adoration.”
They stared at one another for a wondrous moment before his gaze dropped to her lips, which parted at his perusal. It was happening. He would kiss her if she so wanted. And she wanted. Badly. Only, they stood in a garden filled with onlookers.
“I have a confession as well, my lord . . .” Anastacia said, pausing midsentence to dart her tongue over her lower lip. If they could not kiss, she could at least play coy and have some fun.
“Is that so?” Came his expectant reply, his eyes lighting with curiosity.
“I’m quite . . . parched,” she finished with a dazzling smile.
His head snapped up, and he groaned when he noted her amusement. “You are a merciless tease, Lady Anastacia.”
“Perhaps, but I remain a parched merciless tease, my lord.”
His grin matched hers when he said, “Remain here. I will fetch something to quench your thirst.”
“I shall not move from the spot.”
Anastacia watched him make his way to the refreshment table, her heart as light as a feather dancing on the wings of a gentle breeze. Her plan had worked! Of course, there was still the matter of the marriage proposal and persuading him to elope, but the hardest part had been accomplished.
Just then a shadow fell over her, and from the silhouette, a voice emitted, “Just when I believed it got interesting . . . him leaning into you, your lips parting in invitation . . . it all went down in flames.”
Anastacia groaned as the familiar voice seeped into her skin, her spine tingling with sudden awareness. Sure enough, a few feet away stood the annoying, much-too-handsome-for-his-own-good Duke of Blackcress with a wicked glint gleaming in his coal eyes.
“What are you doing here?” She had not meant to sound so snappish, or perhaps she had, but this rakish duke brought out the worst in her. She spared a quick glance to Lord Averly, who appeared to be waylaid by a group of giggling misses, and Blackcress chuckled.
“That is no way to speak to the man you lied to, now is it, Lady Anastacia?”
Chapter 4
Sebastian watched with bemused pleasure as her cheeks blossomed with a bright red color. She had lied to him, and quite boldly at that. Fidelia June Williams. He inwardly shuddered at the name. Not the kind of name a man wants to shout out in bed, especially in pure ecstasy. And he possessed no doubt that was the heights to which she would bring him, and he her. And though her lie had rankled, his curiosity, however, had all but burst at the seams.
“Imagine my surprise when my inquiry about a particular Lady Fidelia June Williams rendered no results, as if the lady herself did not exist. It begged the question, why would a woman of excellent moral repute lie? Perhaps I resemble an ogre?”
When her chin lifted in defiance, Sebastian grinned. Such spirit! It was rare in true ladies these days.
“I would say it was quite obvious—to avoid this exact situation, where someone of your disreputable character sets his sights on what he perceives to be an easy target.”
“Oh, come now, Lady Anastacia. Surely my character is not that bad?”
“Rumors would suggest otherwise. And as I have a singular purpose in London, I cannot allow you or anyone else to ruin my plans.”
Now that intrigued him even more.
So the little lady had set her sights on the young buck Averly, which would be such a waste. Sebastian could think of much better ways for her to spend her time, like in his bed. And he saw it as his rakish duty to dissuade her of the notion. That it defied explanation how much he wanted this woman—like nothing he had ever wanted before—did not signify. Sebastian had never been a man to deny himself his desires.
“Walk with me.”
“As you were eavesdropping on our conversation, you undoubtedly know I have promised not to move from the spot.”
“Averly has been detained by a group of giggling misses. I doubt he will escape their clutches soon. Walk with me.”
“I’d rather not.”
/> “Please.”
Sebastian watched with concealed amusement as she cast a nervous glance Averly’s way, seemingly debating her choices. To his surprise, her eyes flashed with resolve, and he saw the exact moment she concluded her suitor would be a while.
He pounced.
“Walk with me, Lady Anastacia Fidelia June Williams. Where is the harm in a stroll?”
She shot him a bemused glance, and he held out his arm.
With a sigh of defeat, she placed her fingers on his arm. “Very well, your grace.”
Sebastian hid a grin. “Why did you lie?” he asked as they started forward. “Did you think I would not discover the truth?”
“I had hoped.”
“There is little you can hide from me, Lady Anastacia, though I am curious. I have been able to learn your name, some family history but little else. It seems you are a ghost.”
Even her debut had been all but hushed. Another fact that intrigued Sebastian. He had tried to purge her from his mind with drink, and lots of it, but her singular purpose of marrying had not even been enough to scare him off.
Her soft laughter reached his ears, a whimsical sound that warmed his insides. “A ghost? Such things do not exist, your grace, and there is nothing to tell.”
Oh, he doubted that.
“Tell me why I’ve not seen you in London before now,” he persisted.
“Perhaps you have never noticed me,” she murmured. “Before now.”
“I would have remembered a face like yours.” When another delectable blush stole over her features, Sebastian wondered what she would look like fresh out of bed. Hell’s bells. It appeared his mind had latched onto a singular purpose, as well. It must be the mystery surrounding her. He could think of no other reason why he lusted after a lady whose sole intent was to secure a husband.
“I spend most of my time in the country if you must know.”
To the point of exile, it seemed. “Pity,” Sebastian murmured.
“I suppose you would think so.”
“An exquisite creature depriving us of her company is a travesty.”