The Duke of Yanborough was dancing with Camilla’s friend, Elen, another member of the corps de ballet. She had never been quite so mean to Anna as Camilla was, but Anna was still wary of her. The sight of her dancing with the Duke made Anna clench her fists in frustration.
She wished for nothing more than to be back on the dance floor with him, but she knew that she could not dance with him again tonight without causing a scandal. Still, she could not entirely hide her delight when she saw that the Duke looked quite bored by Elen and was not speaking to her at all as they moved across the dance floor.
If she was completely honest with herself, Anna was surprised to see that the Duke was not more taken with Elen. She was quite beautiful with glossy curls, the color of spun gold, framing her heart-shaped face. When Anna had first met her, she had been quite jealous of Elen’s golden hair, having always hated her own ginger locks. She knew that it was petty, but she could not help feeling pleased that the Duke seemed uninterested in those golden curls.
She continued to look around, watching couples dance across the floor, while others mingled at the edges of the stage. Her feet were beginning to ache, and she was just wondering whether she might be able to sit down without raising too many eyebrows, when Bridget approached her.
Bridget was holding two glasses of champagne, and held one out to Anna, who took it from her with a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
“Come,” Bridget said, her voice cheerful. “Let us sit and talk. You must be quite tired after all of that dancing. I know that I certainly am.”
“That sounds lovely,” Anna said, taking Bridget’s arm and walking with her to the side of the stage where a few chairs were lined up in a row.
“What did you think of the Duke of Yanborough?” Bridget asked, looking curious.
“What do you mean?” Anna said, unsure of how to answer the question.
“You seemed to be talking to him for quite some time,” Bridget said, her tone light and casual. “I only spoke to him for a few minutes, and he seemed pleasant enough.”
“Oh, yes we did talk for a bit, but then his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Yanborough,” Anna added a mock aristocratic accent when she said the Dowager Duchess’s title, causing Bridget to giggle, “came and took him away.”
“I see,” Bridget said. “No doubt the Dowager Duchess has many opinions about what her son ought to be doing at soirees like this one. It seems that Dowagers always do.”
“What does that mean?” Anna asked, uncertain of whether Bridget was being serious or not.
“Oh, who knows?” Bridget said, giggling once again, “Do you know, I think I may have had a bit too much champagne.”
“I think you may be right,” Anna said, taking the champagne glass out of her friend’s hand and placing it on an empty chair beside her. She had only had a small amount of champagne herself but Anna could not help laughing along with Bridget. They always had such fun together, and once one of them began to laugh, it was rare that the other did not join in.
Anna and Bridget sat together through two more dances, commenting on the couples they saw on the dance floor, speculating about which aristocrats might be seeking out mistresses amongst the ballerinas, and discussing what everyone was wearing. However, they could not do this all evening, and Anna soon saw Mr. Bamber glaring at them from across the room.
“Get up,” she whispered to Bridget.
“Why?” Bridget asked, “I am too tired to get up.”
“Mr. Bamber is watching us,” Anna said. “He does not look happy that we are sitting here rather than dancing and mingling with the patrons.
“Oh, all right, fine,” Bridget said, sounding as though this was anything but fine, in her opinion.
Anna knew that she could not avoid dancing with someone else forever, and thought that it would be best to jump right in, so to speak. She approached the dance floor as a song was ending, and was soon asked to dance by Mr. Harper.
She would not have chosen Mr. Harper as her dance partner, but she supposed that he was better than someone she did not know at all. At least with Mr. Harper she knew exactly what to expect and was therefore not surprised when the hand that he placed at her waist seemed to creep steadily downward throughout their dance.
“My dear, you look positively radiant this evening,” Mr. Harper said, as they danced.
“Thank you, Mr. Harper, it is due in large part to you,” she replied, forcing a smile, and holding her body stiffly away from his, as much as his arms would allow.
“Yes, I suppose that beautiful gown does add to the effect,” he said, his eyes travelling up and down her body without the slightest effort at discretion. They stopped at the tops of her breasts, exposed by the low neckline of the gown, and he said, “Though you certainly bring something special to the dress.”
“You are too kind, Mr. Harper,” Anna said, careful to keep any hint of distaste out of her voice.
“No false modesty, now.” Mr. Harper chided her. “I speak only the truth, as you well know.”
Anna could think of no way to respond to this without sounding terribly vain, so she simply smiled at Mr. Harper, hoping that the smile was believable enough that he would not sense her discomfort. She felt very relieved when the music stopped and they changed partners once more.
The rest of the evening was something of a blur. Anna felt more tired than she ever remembered having felt, both physically and mentally. She danced with several more gentlemen, making polite conversation with them for the length of one song and then promptly forgetting their names.
Anna shared the last dance of the evening with a wine merchant who would not stop telling her about his wares, no matter how disinterested she seemed. She did not say a word during their dance, but merely nodded from time to time as he spoke about a varietal that he was importing from Italy.
As she had done so many times tonight, Anna scanned the dance floor in search of the Duke of Yanborough. He was on the other side of the floor, dancing with a young lady who appeared to be quite taken with him. She stared up at him, and grinned through the entire dance.
Anna could not tell if the Duke spoke to his dance partner, but she thought that he seemed uninterested in her as they moved about the dance floor. She longed to trade places with the young lady, thinking that perhaps the aristocrat’s daughter might even enjoy hearing what the wine merchant had to say.
When the song ended, the couples cleared off of the dance floor and people began to collect their coats and hats from the cloakroom. Some people moved out quickly, while others lingered to speak with their friends and associates. Anna looked around, hoping that she might be able to at least bid the Duke goodnight before setting off for home.
She was therefore delighted when she saw the Duke walking toward her, and she smiled broadly at him as he approached. Seeing him return her smile, she felt warmth spreading through her chest, out through her arms and legs, making her tired body feel energized once more.
“Greetings again, Miss Conolly,” he said, when he finally reached her. “Or I suppose I ought to say goodbye, for now.”
“I suppose so, Your Grace, the hour is quite late,” Anna said, looking up at the large clock on the wall of the theater lobby.
“Indeed,” the Duke said, frowning slightly. “I trust you will not be walking home at this hour?”
“Oh no, Your Grace,” Anna said. “Mr. Bamber would never allow it. He has hired hackneys to ensure that we all arrive home safely.”
From over her shoulder she heard a snort and a loud whisper, and she knew that it must be Camilla making some snide remark about her. She found that for once, she did not care about anything that Camilla might be saying behind her back, and she continued to smile at the Duke, who seemed not to have noticed the sound.
“Well, I am pleased to know that you will make it home safely,” he said, looking serious now, “especially since I still plan to call upon you tomorrow.”
“I am looking forward to it, Your Grace,” An
na said, feeling breathless with anticipation, but managing to keep her voice relatively calm.
“There is one thing that I must ask you first, though,” the Duke said.
“What is that, Your Grace?” Anna asked, concerned about what this request might be.
“Well,” the Duke said, a mischievous grin spreading across his handsome face, “if I am to call upon you at home, then I shall need to know where you live.”
“Oh,” Anna said, feeling foolish for not having thought of this herself. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Anna told him the address of her boarding house, and explained that it was only a few blocks away from the theater. He repeated the address back to her, ensuring that he had gotten it correct.
They had only just exchanged this information when the Dowager Duchess approached them again.
“Your Grace,” the Dowager Duchess said, sounding exasperated, “you still have not collected our coats?”
“I apologize, Mother,” the Duke said, a hint of frustration not entirely concealed in his voice. “I was just bidding Miss Conolly good night, and congratulating her once again on her performance.”
The Dowager Duchess turned to look at Anna now, offering her a tight smile that did not reach beyond her mouth. “Yes, congratulations. You danced the role quite competently. Now, if you will excuse us, the Duke and I must be on our way. Good evening, Miss Conolly.”
The Duke looked at Anna sadly, and whispered, “I am sorry, Miss Conolly. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” before turning to follow his mother out of the theater.
Chapter 17
Nathaniel stood at the doorway of the theater with his mother at his side, waiting for their carriage to arrive. The night air was cold, and he pulled his coat tightly around himself.
“Are you warm enough, Mother?” he asked, worried about what might happen if she caught a chill from this biting wind.
“I am fine, Nathaniel,” she said impatiently. “There is no need to fuss.”
“All right,” Nathaniel said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I promise not to fuss. I just want to make sure that you have what you need.”
“Yes, I know that you are fond of taking care of people, and I do so appreciate it,” his mother said, “but it is not always necessary.”
Just then, their carriage pulled up and the footman opened the door. Nathaniel held out a hand to help his mother into the back of the carriage and then followed her in. They sat down opposite one another and arranged themselves in the seats as the coachman set off.
For a moment they sat in companionable silence, but then Nathaniel spoke. “Mother?” he asked, “what did you mean about my being fond of taking care of people?”
“Well, it is nothing to be ashamed of, in itself,” she said. “It is only when you take things too far that one worries.”
“Yes, but what do you mean?” he asked once again, still confused about what she was referring to.
“Nathaniel, ever since you were a little boy, you have wanted to take care of anyone and everyone,” his mother said, and her voice was a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You used to find baby birds in the grounds and bring them inside to care for them.”
“I suppose I remember doing something of that sort once or twice as a boy. But what is so wrong about that?”
“Nothing is wrong about that, as I have said,” his mother replied. “So long as you do not take things to the extreme.”
“And what does it mean to take things to the extreme?” he asked, genuinely curious about what she might mean.
“Do you recall when you were about eight years old, one of the parlor maids broke her leg and was no longer able to work?”
Nathaniel searched back in through his memory for this person, and found a vague memory of a teenaged girl who had worked in the family’s country estate, until one day she was simply gone. “Not well, but I think I remember who you mean,” he said, feeling even more confused now.
“Well, you were too young to realize it at the time, but I’m sure it will not surprise you to learn that she did not break her leg,” his mother said, sounding put out, as though she were talking about something extremely unpleasant.
“She was with child, as you might have guessed. In any event, she could no longer work, so we had to send her away. You cried and begged us to bring her back, and I thought that perhaps you had been infatuated with her, as young boys sometimes are.”
“I do not remember being infatuated with her,” Nathaniel said, still uncertain of where this story might lead.
“As it turned out, you were not. You were worried about what might happen to her since she had lost her place at the estate.”
“What did happen to her?” Nathaniel asked, hoping that she had found a new position, or perhaps a husband to claim her child.
“How on earth should I know? She was no longer any concern of ours,” his mother said. “And this is my point—you wasted so much time worrying about some poor common girl, when you ought to have been doing anything else.”
“Who was the father?” Nathaniel asked.
“What?”
“You said she was with child,” Nathaniel said. “Who was the father of the child?”
“Does it matter?” his mother asked, incredulously
“Was he sacked as well?”
“Don’t be absurd, Nathaniel.” his mother said, her tone acid now. “For one thing, I haven’t the slightest idea who the father was, so I could hardly sack him. But even if I had known, there was no reason that he could not continue working. What would be gained by sending away a perfectly capable stable hand or footman?”
Nathaniel had no answer to this, but simply stared at his mother. He felt as though he were truly seeing her for the first time. He had always known that she was ambitious and stern, and in truth, he was not surprised to learn that she had turned a pregnant maid out of the house without a second thought. Still, her complete disregard for the girl and her child was shocking to him.
“I can see that you think I am some sort of monster,” his mother said. “And that is quite all right. Everything that I have done, I have done for the sake of my family—for you. So, you may think badly of me, but know that you have always been the beneficiary of my choices.”
Nathaniel remained silent, still not knowing what to say to any of this, and his mother remained silent for a time as well. Believing that they had reached a stalemate in their discussion, Nathaniel turned his head to look out the window at the night sky.
The moon was nearly full, and the stars shone brightly, casting a beautiful silver glow over the city that passed around him. He was reminded of the beautiful, luminous quality of Miss Conolly’s creamy white skin. On stage, covered in shimmering makeup, it had glowed silver like the moonlight.
As though she knew what her son was thinking about, Nathaniel’s mother spoke once more.
“You spent too much time speaking to the prima ballerina tonight, Nathaniel,” she said, as though she were scolding a schoolboy.
“Mother, I am a grown man, and a Duke. You cannot tell me who I may or may not speak to,” he said, hearing the edge in his voice and not bothering to control it. “We have already discussed this. I wished to congratulate her on her performance, and we spoke for a few minutes, which was the purpose of this event.”
“And as I said when we spoke of this earlier, you would do well to save your attentions for people that can be of use to you in the future, and I assure you that a ballerina is not that sort of person. Nor is she a baby bird in need of saving.”
“I have no interest in saving Miss Conolly from anything,” Nathaniel said sharply, glaring angrily at his mother now. “Nor any reason to believe that she requires saving.”
“So you have no intention of seeing her again?” his mother asked, fixing him with a piercing gaze.
“I thought we were speaking of trying to rescue her,” Nathaniel shot back.
“Do not be clever with me, Nathaniel
, I know you too well. Do you, or do you not, intend to see her again?”
“I suppose that I may see her again in the next ballet that I attend,” Nathaniel told the lie easily. Ordinarily lying was a challenge to his usually honest nature, but tonight, he was angry at his mother that he felt no guilt in being dishonest.
“Perhaps,” his mother replied. “If she remains with the company.”
Nathaniel managed to hide his reaction to these words, but his anger continued to bubble in his stomach for the rest of the ride back to the townhouse. He did not speak to his mother again for the rest of the journey.
The Art 0f Pleasuring A Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 13
